The Wounded Crossbow Is Still More Than You Can Stop!

The Wounded Crossbow Is Still More Than You Can Stop!

Wang Ritain's long saber gleamed with a cold light. Blood clinging to its blade dripped onto the ground, splashing into tiny crimson flowers. His gaze was resolute. He raised his hand and brought the blade down. With a soft thud, Xuanyuan Jingxuan's head flew into the air, arced through the sky, and crashed to the ground. Xuanyuan Jingxuan's face still wore an expression of unwillingness, his eyes wide open, as though he couldn't believe that he had died at the hands of a Half-step Grandmaster.

Everyone stared at the scene, their scalps prickling. Their mouths hung open, but not a sound came out; their shock defied words. Wang Ritain, once an obscure nobody in the martial world, had used the strength of a Half-step Grandmaster to defy the odds and kill Xuanyuan Jingxuan, a Finger Profound Realm expert. Such a feat was simply unheard of and unprecedented.

"How... How is this possible?" one martial artist stammered, his voice full of fear and disbelief. His legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed. At that moment, he secretly congratulated himself for not joining the attack on Wang Ritain. Otherwise, the corpse lying on the ground might have been his.

The Xuanyuan Family's retainers were just as shaken. As they looked at Xuanyuan Jingxuan's corpse, fear spread through them like a rising tide. They had assumed that Xuanyuan Jingxuan, the family's foremost expert after the ancestor, would have no trouble dealing with Wang Ritain. Reality, however, had slapped them hard. Wang Ritain's strength far exceeded their expectations. He was like a demon god from the depths of hell, filling them with terror.

"Run! Hurry, run!" someone shouted. The retainers snapped out of their daze and scattered in every direction. They stumbled over themselves in their haste. At that moment, they had only one thought: get as far away from Wang Ritain as possible.

Xuanyuan Qingfeng stood to one side, having witnessed everything. Her face was as pale as paper, her eyes filled with shock and fear. Her body trembled faintly, as though a gust of wind could knock her over. She had never imagined things would turn out this way. Xuanyuan Jingxuan, a mighty figure who had commanded respect within the family, had been slain by Wang Ritain. She recalled the confident words Wang Ritain had spoken earlier and couldn't help feeling a pang of regret. He hadn't been raving after all; he truly possessed such terrifying strength. She even began to wonder if Wang Ritain might really climb Mount Hui one day and kill the ancestor, Xuanyuan Dapan.

Xuanyuan Qingfeng watched Wang Ritain in silence, waiting to see what he would do next. Her feelings were conflicted. On one hand, she feared his strength; on the other, she was intensely curious about him. How had this insignificant figure, once bullied by his own family, become so powerful?

Wang Ritain was badly wounded. The injuries within his body burned like a mass of flames, constantly ravaging him. Yet he forcibly suppressed them and looked calmly at Xuanyuan Qingfeng. "Xuanyuan Qingfeng, go back and tell Xuanyuan Dapan that the Xuanyuan Family has been rotten for far too long. I'll come for his head myself. For now, I'll let it stay on his shoulders a little longer." With that, Wang Ritain turned and walked slowly away. His steps faltered, but his resolve did not. He paid no attention to the fleeing retainers and martial artists, as if they were nothing more than insignificant ants.

As they fled, the retainers kept glancing back at Wang Ritain. Confusion filled their minds. They remembered the image of him as a terrifying, unstoppable killer, then looked at him now and sensed that something was off. Just then, Wang Ritain gave a faint cough, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"He's wounded!" one retainer whispered, a flash of delight in his eyes.

"Right. He must be completely spent. He's badly injured and has no strength left to deal with us," another retainer agreed.

The thought of taking a gamble began to stir among the retainers. This was a golden opportunity to earn merit, they thought. If they could kill Wang Ritain, the Xuanyuan Family would surely reward them; they might even become disciples of the family ancestor himself. Driven by greed, they gradually grew bolder.

"Attack! Kill him!" shouted a retainer who was a Half-step Grandmaster. He charged toward Wang Ritain, gripping a long sword whose blade gleamed coldly, as if ready to cut him down.

Wang Ritain acted as though he hadn't heard and continued walking forward with steady steps. There wasn't a trace of panic in his eyes. It was as if he didn't even notice the retainer charging at him.

As the retainer drew near, Wang Ritain casually swung his long saber. The seemingly effortless strike carried immense power. The retainer saw a flash of cold light, and his expression froze. His body seemed to be torn apart by an invisible force as blood sprayed skyward. The next moment, he was cleaved in two and crashed to the ground with a dull thud. He writhed in agony, his eyes filled with fear and despair.

Everyone else who had been thinking of attacking Wang Ritain broke into a cold sweat, their hearts pounding. They stared at the mangled corpse on the ground, and their fear swelled once more. They realized that even badly wounded, Wang Ritain was still terrifying. He was like a wounded tiger: exhausted, perhaps, but still capable of inflicting lethal damage.

"We can't attack him again. He's too terrifying!" one retainer stammered, his voice trembling with fear.

"Exactly. None of us knows how much strength he has left. We can't be the ones to charge in first," another retainer agreed.

Everyone stared blankly at Wang Ritain's retreating back, filled with awe. They didn't dare pursue him and could only watch as he gradually disappeared into the distance. Wang Ritain walked away one step at a time, and no one dared stop him.