Spoils of War

Night, thick as ink, pressed heavily over this battlefield steeped in bloodlust and killing intent.

Li Yang stood alone, the gale howling as it wantonly whipped his tattered clothes about, like a ruined banner struggling in the wind.

Although he was powerful now, the group of experts from the Xiao family had not been easy opponents.

His breathing was heavy and hurried. Every breath carried smoke and exhaustion so oppressive it nearly suffocated him. His clothes were in tatters, crisscrossed with gashes from sharp blades. Blood mingled with sweat and slowly slid down his battered body, covered in bruises and cuts, dripping onto the muddy ground strewn with severed limbs and shattered armor. It seeped into dark, horrifying patches of blood that blended with the surrounding silence, bearing silent witness to the brutality of the battle.

Although Li Yang had successfully taken down all his opponents, the toll on him was clearly immense as well.

Li Yang's gaze slowly swept across his surroundings. The corpses of the Xiao family experts lay sprawled everywhere, their limbs twisted beyond recognition, their deaths utterly horrific. They had once been terrifying presences across this land, throwing their weight around through the Xiao family's power and their own profound cultivation. But now, all signs of life had vanished from them, leaving only cold, rigid shells to silently witness this brutal battle.

Dragging feet as heavy as lead, Li Yang walked step by step toward the nearest corpse. It belonged to an elder of the Xiao family, whose cultivation had been unfathomably profound in life and whose methods had been vicious and ruthless. He had been renowned across this continent. Li Yang crouched down, and muddy water instantly soaked his trouser legs. Cold rose from the soles of his feet, but he did not notice it