Breaking a Leg

The loud crash of Wei Dayong breaking down the door was particularly jarring in the silent night. He panted heavily, a blunted waist saber in his right hand, staring intently at the trembling door.

Just then...

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

Four figures, like falcons, leaped over the courtyard wall and landed silently about ten feet in front of Wei Dayong. All four wore dark green martial attire, their sabers uniform in style, their faces stern, their eyes like knives, exuding a fiercer killing intent than the two guards at the gate. They spread out in a semi-circle, instantly cutting off all of Wei Dayong's escape routes.

The leader, a tall, thin man with a scar on his cheek, coldly swept his gaze over the two guards lying on the ground, their fate unknown. His eyes fell on Wei Dayong, covered in blood. His voice was like the grinding of iron plates:

"Rebel? You dare to kill someone on the General of the Middle Army's territory?"

Pressure descended like a mountain. Wei Dayong could feel that any one of these four was far stronger than the previous two! But he had no path of retreat. His blood-red eyes glared at the scarred face. "I said it! I just want to save my daughter! Hand over the Nightmare that harmed her, and I'll leave immediately! I have no intention of being your enemy, much less the General of the Middle Army's enemy!"

"Hahahaha!" The short, stout man beside the scarred face heard this and burst into laughter as if he'd heard the greatest joke in the world. "You attacked, you killed, and you still want to leave? Still want to demand something? You muddy-legged peasant, did killing pigs scramble your brains?"

The tall, thin scarred man raised his hand, and the stout man's laughter abruptly stopped. The scarred man stared at Wei Dayong and slowly said, "No matter why you came, since you've drawn blood and disturbed the peace here, you must leave your life behind."

Before his words fell, all four moved at once! No shouts, no extra nonsense, their coordination as seamless as if they were one person. The tall, thin scarred man charged forward, a fierce hand strike aimed directly at Wei Dayong's throat, swift as lightning! The short, stout man on the left bent low, sweeping at his legs; the two on the right attacked simultaneously, one with a punch to the temple, the other with fingers like a halberd, stabbing at the vital pressure point on his waist! Their attacks were vicious and cunning, sealing off all space above, below, left, and right. This was clearly a well-trained formation attack, designed for instant annihilation!

Wei Dayong's pupils contracted. At the brink of life and death, the fierce aura that had been suppressed deep within him could no longer be contained and erupted with a roar!

"Ah!"

He let out a bestial roar, his blood and qi surging like boiling water. An aura far more powerful and solid than before shot towards the sky! His skin took on a faint bronze sheen. Though not as obvious as Wang Quan's, it was undeniably the aura of someone beyond an ordinary Martial Practitioner—Mortal Transformation Realm! This seemingly ordinary Garrison veteran had been hiding his Mortal Transformation Realm strength all along!

Under the surge, Wei Dayong's speed and strength increased dramatically. He jerked his head sideways, narrowly dodging the scarred man's throat-striking hand, while simultaneously flicking his waist saber upwards to block the punch aimed at his temple. With a "clang," sparks flew, and the attacker was forced back half a step, a hint of surprise on his face.

But Wei Dayong couldn't defend against everything. The stout man's sweeping leg connected solidly with his lower leg, a faint sound of bone cracking, and searing pain shot through him! He stumbled, and the finger strike aimed at his waist was already upon him!

"Pfft!"

The fingertips felt like steel drills, piercing deeply into Wei Dayong's right waist. Although he tensed his muscles at the last moment to deflect some of the force, it still penetrated an inch deep, drawing a spray of blood. Wei Dayong grunted and retreated rapidly, trying to create distance.

"Trying to leave?" The tall, thin scarred man was right behind him. He noticed Wei Dayong's unstable aura after his burst of power, clearly indicating a recent breakthrough or forced exertion. He sneered, turning his palm into a claw, his five fingers hooked, tearing through the air with a sharp hiss as he lunged for Wei Dayong's chest! If this claw connected, it would rip out his heart!

Wei Dayong had no way to dodge. A fierce glint flashed in his eyes. He stopped blocking altogether, instead pouring all his strength into his right arm. The blunted waist saber, with a suicidal intent, slashed towards the scarred man's waist! It was a fight to the death!

The scarred man clearly hadn't expected the opponent to be so fearless. He didn't want to trade lives with a cornered Mortal Transformation Realm expert. His claw strike faltered slightly, changing from a grab to a slap, striking the side of the saber.

"Clang!"

Wei Dayong's tiger mouth was completely torn open, and the waist saber flew out of his hand. The residual force of the scarred man's palm struck his chest, making it feel heavy, and a sweet taste rose in his throat.

In this moment, when his old strength was spent and new strength had not yet arrived, the other three had already closed in again. Fists, feet, and palms rained down on Wei Dayong like a storm. He managed to protect his vital points, but two fists are no match for four hands, especially when those hands belonged to four skilled individuals with perfect coordination.

"Bang!" A heavy punch landed on his ribs, breaking them.

"Crack!" A kick struck the side of his knee, twisting his left leg into an unnatural shape.

"Pfft!" A heavy palm strike landed on his back, causing him to spew blood.

Wei Dayong was sent flying like a tattered sack, crashing heavily onto the cold stone slab floor. He rolled a few times, covered in blood, lying there with more air going out than coming in. The explosive aura rapidly waned, and the faint bronze sheen on his skin disappeared.

The tall, thin scarred man slowly paced forward, looking down at Wei Dayong, who resembled a puddle of mud on the ground. He raised his foot, his boot sole carrying dust and blood, and slowly, but with immense weight, stepped on Wei Dayong's only relatively intact lower leg.

"Crack!"

A sickening, clear sound of bone shattering echoed in the dead silent alley, exceptionally piercing.

Wei Dayong's body convulsed violently. Veins bulged on his forehead, his eyeballs protruding, bloodshot. He opened his mouth wide, a gasping sound coming from his throat. His entire body trembled uncontrollably from extreme pain, cold sweat mixing with blood. But he bit down hard on his teeth, his lips tearing, blood flowing down the corners of his mouth. He truly did not cry out.

A flicker of surprise crossed the scarred man's eyes, which then turned to a deeper coldness. He applied a little more pressure with his foot, grinding the broken bone.

Wei Dayong's body trembled again. He struggled to lift his head, his face a mess of blood and sweat. The ferocity and violence in his eyes were replaced by endless pain and pleading. He looked at the scarred man, his voice hoarse and broken, choked with sobs, word by word, as if weeping blood:

"Please... please... give me the Nightmare... for my daughter... I can't hold on any longer..."

"Take my life... I, Wei Dayong, have nothing to say... I accept it..."

"But she's still young... she's only six years old... she knows nothing... please... give her a way to live..."

Looking at this man who had fought so bravely moments ago, now groveling and begging like a lame old dog, the stout man behind the scarred face could no longer hold back. He burst into laughter, his laughter filled with cruel delight:

"Hahahaha! Your life? How much is your life worth? In this Anping County, the General of the Middle Army does as he pleases! Your lives, including your little girl's life, all belong to the Lord!"

Another man sneered, "Exactly! Pitifully naive! Still want a way out? If the Lord wants to use your lives, that's your 'good fortune'!"

"Hahahaha!" The four men looked at the utterly miserable Wei Dayong on the ground as if watching a farce, their mocking laughter echoing in the alley.

The light in Wei Dayong's eyes gradually extinguished. The pleading froze on his face, leaving only empty despair and deathly silence. He lay on the ground, motionless, only the slight rise and fall of his chest proving he was still alive. But his eyes were no different from those of a dead man.

The tall, thin scarred man withdrew his foot and coldly waved his hand. "Drag him in. Don't kill him yet; perhaps the Lord will be interested in his Mortal Transformation Realm bones."

Two subordinates responded and stepped forward, grabbing Wei Dayong's arms like dragging a dead dog and hauling him towards a side door that was slowly opening. Two long, shocking bloodstains were left on the ground.

The side door closed heavily behind Wei Dayong with a dull "clang," completely cutting off the outside world. An indescribable stench, a mixture of rotting flesh, medicinal liquids, blood, and some strange fishy smell, assaulted them, almost suffocating.

Wei Dayong was roughly thrown onto the cold, damp ground, the intense pain making his vision blacken. He forced his blood-smeared eyes open and, upon seeing the scene before him, his stomach churned violently.

This was no warehouse; it was a massive, sinister underground workshop! All around were piled jars and bottles of various sizes, filthy and disgusting. Some contained unidentifiable organs or severed limbs, while others bubbled ominously. The walls were hung with all sorts of bizarre knives, hooks, and chains, all stained with dark red smudges. Even more horrifying, illuminated by the dim, flickering oil lamps, were "people" curled up in corners or lying directly on the ground—if they could still be called people. Most were incomplete, some with extra limbs, some with festering skin, others with vacant stares, emitting mindless moans, like an enlarged, hellish version of Madman Xu's room!

"My Lord, we've captured a live one, Mortal Transformation Realm. Please..." the tall, thin scarred man said respectfully to a hunched figure in the depths of the workshop.

The figure slowly turned around. It was an old man, as thin as a skeleton, clad in a gray robe stained with unknown filth. The wrinkles on his face were deep enough to trap flies, but his eyes were unusually bright, gleaming with an almost crazed, greedy light. He held a long, slender knife, its tip still dripping dark red liquid.

"Oh?" The old man's voice was hoarse, like a bellows being worked. He shuffled over slowly, his cloudy eyes appraising the mud-like Wei Dayong on the ground, as if evaluating a piece of merchandise. "Mortal Transformation Realm? His aura is unstable, recently broken through, foundation not very solid... Hmm, passable, barely acceptable. Can be used as 'medicinal material' for now."

He extended his withered, bird-like fingers and pointed at Wei Dayong's broken leg bone through the air, as if sensing the residual blood and qi fluctuations. He then shook his head, seemingly dissatisfied. "Still not enough... The best 'vessels' require special bloodlines or roots. This one will have to do; let's see if he can survive the 'Monster Fusion' stage."

Hearing the old man evaluate him in the same tone he'd use to discuss medicinal herbs, Wei Dayong felt a chill run down his spine. But his daughter's pale little face flashed through his mind, and the desire to survive and his fatherly love overwhelmed his fear. He used his last bit of strength, struggling to lift his head, and rasped, "Nightmare... take away the Nightmare that harmed my daughter! Let my daughter go! I... I'll give you my life! Do whatever you want with me! I'll be your test subject willingly!"

"Hm?" The hunched old man's movement to turn abruptly stopped. He snapped his head back, his crazed eyes fixed on Wei Dayong, sharp as knives. "You... actually know it's a 'Nightmare'? And know about 'test subjects'?"

The carelessness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a sinister, taboo-breaking gloom and killing intent. "Did that crazy Xu fellow from the west of the city tell you? Hmph! Him again! That persistent old bastard! If it weren't for... if it weren't for the higher-ups ordering me not to touch him yet, I would have already..."

He stopped mid-sentence, seemingly realizing he'd spoken out of turn. He abruptly cut himself off, letting out a series of bone-chilling, low chuckles from his throat. "Hehehe... hehehe... Fine. Since you know a bit, and you're 'willingly' offering yourself, it saves me a lot of trouble. Don't worry, you'll be 'put to good use.' As for your daughter..."

The old man bent down, his wrinkled, age-spotted face nearly touching Wei Dayong's. The breath that came from his mouth carried the stench of rotting corpses. He bared a cruelly twisted smile. "When she's no longer useful, she'll naturally be made into the best nourishment. Perhaps... she'll even reunite with you, her father, in my precious jar? Hehehe... Hahahahaha!"

His mad laughter echoed through the foul-smelling underground workshop, sending shivers down one's spine.

Wei Dayong's eyes bulged with rage. Despair and fury burned through his insides like poison fire. He wanted to roar, to fight back desperately, but his severely injured body and fading strength made it impossible to even move a finger. He could only glare fiercely at the old man's contorted face, a desperate whimper, like that of a trapped beast, escaping his throat.

The old man straightened up and waved his hand, instructing the scarred, thin, tall man, "Drag him to the initial refining room. Seal his remaining vital energy with the Spirit Sealing Needles. Don't let him die. I'll deal with him after I finish with this one."