Ch. 25 - Massacre

“They gave it to me, yes. But when did I ever say that just because they handed over the divine pearl, I wouldn’t wipe out their whole clan?” Xu Zimo asked in return.

“Uh…” Guan Zhenhai was stunned. “Now that you mention it… you actually never said that.”

“There you go,” Xu Zimo replied. “Even if I had said it, so what? Can’t I just change my mind now? Who’s going to stop me?”

“…Fair. Fair,” Guan Zhenhai nodded awkwardly after a moment of stunned silence.

Everyone nearby felt their worldview had just been shattered.

Breaking a promise, and being so brazen and self-righteous about it, Xu Zimo made it sound like the most normal thing in the world.

The only thing they could do was sigh: “I have never seen anyone so utterly shameless.”

After all, the True Martial Sacred Ground was a prestigious and upright sect, a powerful imperial lineage.

Its Vice-Lord was a peerless figure, having opened seven meridian gates at a young age and reached the Empyrean Meridian Realm.

And yet… his son turned out to be this cunning, this unpredictable.

As night deepened, a few dog barks echoed through the streets, but the rest of Skysword City was fast asleep.

Only the Chang Clan estate was ablaze with light.

Inside the main hall, the key decision-makers of the Chang Clan were gathered.

“The True Martial Sacred Ground is going too far! They don’t treat our Chang Clan as anything at all!” the Grand Elder, with his white beard and flushed face, roared in anger.

“Why should they treat you as anything?” the Fifth Elder muttered. “Just one elite inner court disciple from their sect could wipe our whole clan out.”

“I say we file a formal protest with the sect! I know an outer court elder in their ranks,” the Second Elder added.

“What good is an outer court elder?” the Fifth Elder retorted weakly. “He can’t even control an inner court disciple.”

“Old Five, no one asked for your opinion,” Chang Tianxiong gave him a cold glance.

“Exactly!” the Third Elder huffed. “We’re all pissed off here, can’t we even vent a little?”

“Enough squabbling, gentlemen,” said a sudden voice. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk things out… in hell.”

Everyone froze and looked toward the doorway.

There, a man in black walked in slowly, sword in hand, blood still dripping from the blade. The guards outside had clearly all been killed.

“Who are you?” Chang Tianxiong frowned, three of his meridian gates opening with a burst of aura.

The other elders all tensed as well, gathering their pressure and releasing it toward the intruder.

“Springwheel... Deepbone... Dawnwind...”

The black-clothed man spoke softly.

With each step he took, another meridian gate opened.

On the fourth step, the fourth gate, Vastsea, burst open.

A surging aura like a crashing tidal wave engulfed the entire hall, making everyone struggle to breathe.

• Springwheel: Located on the back of the left hand.
• Deepbone: Located on the back of the right hand.
• Dawnwind: On the chest.
• Vastsea: Opposite the chest, located on the back.

When all four gates were open, every elder’s expression changed.

“D-Desolate Meridian Realm?!” they gasped.

The man in black slowly raised his sword, the tip pointed at his own chest. Then, with a flick of his wrist, a flash of sword light burst forth.

The Grand Elder didn’t even have time to react. He was instantly torn into pieces by the sword light.

“Don’t panic! Everyone attack at once, hold him off while I run to the City Lord’s Mansion for reinforcements!” Chang Tianxiong shouted, turning and fleeing immediately.

The black-clothed man raised his sword again. This time, the blade flashed in the shape of a cross.

The sword light expanded rapidly, aimed straight for Chang Tianxiong.

Before it could hit, the Fifth Elder leapt in front of him, taking the blow.

“Clan Head, run! The Chang Clan cannot end like this!” he cried, spitting out blood and falling unconscious.

“You talk too much, but when it counts… you’re reliable,” Chang Tianxiong said with bitter emotion.

The black-clothed man held his sword in his left hand. In his right palm, fireballs began to form, one after another.

He hurled them into the estate. The blasts collapsed buildings, igniting fires as they went.

Flames filled the sky, smoke billowing like thunderclouds, rising to blot out the stars.

In the rear courtyard, the Third Prince of the Violet Sun Empire and his elderly attendant immediately sensed something was wrong.

The old man tried to shield the prince and escape, but the black-clad figure intercepted them.

“Sir, this man is the Third Prince of Violet Sun Empire. He has nothing to do with the Chang Clan! We’ve always been loyal to the True Martial Sacred Ground!” the old man quickly explained.

Floating midair, four meridian gates open, he was also a Desolate Meridian cultivator.

“What’s all this about sects and empires? I’m just a humble rogue cultivator,” the black-clad man said indifferently. “I couldn’t stand the Chang Clan’s tyranny, so I’ve come to serve justice. This has nothing to do with the sect.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the old man nodded rapidly. “Your righteous spirit is admirable.”

“Go. You saw nothing tonight.”

“Thank you, sir!” the old man bowed deeply, then quickly fled with the prince.

Back in the sect branch courtyard, Xu Zimo sat beneath the moonlight, sipping tea and admiring the fiery red glow that lit up the distant sky.

In his past life, the Chang Clan had been the first faction to pledge loyalty to Chu Yang.

They even offered the Hell-Suppressing Pearl to him.

Though the Clan now seemed pitifully weak, Xu Zimo didn’t want to leave any future threats behind.

“You’re from the True Martial Sacred Ground,” Chang Tianxiong shouted, tears of rage in his eyes as he looked over his ruined clan.

“Why?! I gave you the pearl, why slaughter us?!”

“Does a weak man need a reason to die?” the black-clad figure replied calmly.

“I don’t understand… what did our Chang Clan do to deserve this?” Chang Tianxiong whispered in despair.

Five centuries of toil, of rising through adversity… all of it destroyed in a single night.

He remembered the day his father passed him the mantle of Clan Head.

“Tianxiong, you must find the chosen one. Lead our clan into a golden age. Don't let Skysword City become a cage that shackles our wings.”

He picked up his sword. All around him, children wept, clan members screamed, and the glory of 500 years burned in the firelight.

He raised the sword, looked up at the dark sky.

At some point, his topknot had come loose.

His long hair fell over his shoulders as he let out a heart-wrenching roar and slashed the blade toward his own neck.

Clang, the sword slipped from his hands and hit the ground.

Chang Tianxiong knelt, blood pouring from his neck, vision fading.

Then, finally, his body collapsed.

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