The Seven Kill Sect Emerges

"You—"

Zhou Wenbin's expression changed drastically. He lunged backward, waving his hands in front of him as a thick barrier of true qi condensed before his chest.

As a manager of the Treasure Pavilion, his cultivation at the third level of the Zhuqi Realm made him a formidable expert in Tiannan Prefecture. In this life-or-death moment, the true qi within his body surged frantically like a boiling river.

His third-level Zhuqi Realm cultivation was displayed to its fullest extent, the true qi forming a translucent shield wall before him that looked almost solid.

However, the old man merely flicked his sword.

The baleful aura on the Seven Kill Sword surged like a burst dam, instantly shattering Zhou Wenbin's true qi barrier.

That pitch-black sword qi seemed to originate from the nine nether hells, carrying endless resentment and the intent to slaughter. Wherever it passed, Zhou Wenbin's true qi was torn apart like thin paper, failing to cause even the slightest delay.

"No—"

Zhou Wenbin only managed to utter half a word, his eyes filled with disbelief and terror.

He tried to dodge, only to find his body seemingly locked by some invisible force, unable to move even a single finger.

The sword light flashed.

A thin line of blood appeared on his throat. At first, it was as fine as a strand of hair, but it spread in the blink of an eye.

Zhou Wenbin's eyes bulged, his mouth hanging open, but he could not make a sound.

Even more eerie was the fact that all the blood in his body was being drained by the Seven Kill Sword; the pitch-black demonic blade seemed like a greedy glutton, frantically devouring his essence and blood.

Zhou Wenbin's body withered at a speed visible to the naked eye. His once-plump face collapsed rapidly, turning him into a horrifying dried corpse that fell stiffly to the ground with a dull thud.

A deathly silence filled the hall.

Everyone was stunned. Some dropped their teacups, the scalding tea splashing onto their robes without them even noticing. Others had their mouths agape, their screams stuck in their throats, while some had legs so weak they collapsed directly to the floor.

A manager of the Treasure Pavilion, an expert at the third level of the Zhuqi Realm, killed by a single sword strike?

What kind of cultivation did this old man possess?

More importantly, if they hadn't misheard, this old man before them was from the Marquis of Tiannan's Mansion?

Had he returned to seek revenge against the various factions that had destroyed the Marquis of Tiannan's Mansion all those years ago?

The old man stood on the high platform, holding the Seven Kill Sword, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. The killing intent on his body burned like tangible flames, and the baleful aura of the Seven Kill Sword merged with his intent, forming a pitch-black mist around him.

"Heaven produces all things to nurture man, yet man has no virtue to repay Heaven."

The old man suddenly shouted, his voice aged yet full of vigor, echoing endlessly throughout the hall.

"Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!"

As his words fell, a series of echoing responses suddenly erupted throughout the hall.

The voices were uniform and carried a hair-raising fanaticism, sounding like a funeral knell from hell.

Dozens of people sitting in the corners of the hall stood up simultaneously, tearing off their outer robes to reveal black martial attire underneath.

Embroidered on their chests was a blood-red "Seven Kill" character, the script so savage it looked as if it had been written in fresh blood.

"The Seven Kill Sect reveals itself today!"

The old man raised the Seven Kill Sword high. The blood-red light on the blade flared brilliantly, and a pitch-black streak of sword qi shot into the sky, cleaving a massive fissure through the roof of the Treasure Pavilion.

"Twenty-some years have passed; the blood feud of the Marquis of Tiannan's Mansion shall be settled!"

"Kill!"

Dozens of men in black attacked simultaneously, blade light and sword shadows flickering throughout the hall.

Screams, gasps, and the sound of overturning tables and chairs mingled together, plunging the hall into chaos.

A wealthy merchant in silk robes had just stood up when he was struck by two crossing blade strikes, his body severed into three pieces as blood gushed out.

A beautiful young maid screamed as she tried to flee, only to be pierced through the back by a longsword and pinned to a pillar.

Several martial artists who attempted to resist were struck by multiple blades before they could even draw their weapons, reduced to a pile of gore.

"The Seven Kill Sect? Could this old man be a remnant of the Seven Kill Army that the Marquis of Tiannan commanded at the border?"

In a private box, a middle-aged martial artist of the Zhuqi Realm turned pale, his voice trembling.

The Seven Kill Army was an elite force that had struck fear into the hearts of enemies when the previous dynasty still stood. It was said that every soldier was a one-in-a-hundred martial artist, stationed at the border to defend against the Northern Barbarians.

"Let's get out of here."

"Whether it's the Seven Kill Army or the Seven Kill Sect, the Three Great Sects can deal with the headache; this has nothing to do with us."

"Indeed, the Marquis of Tiannan fell unexpectedly back then, and the shadows of the Three Great Sects were behind that."

The various Zhuqi Realm experts in the auction boxes rushed toward the exits.

Their figures flickered as they either smashed through windows or utilized movement techniques to leap out through the fissure in the roof, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

The martial artists of the Seven Kill Sect did not stop them; their targets seemed to be only the ordinary guests in the hall.

The old man stood on the high platform, channeling the Seven Kill Sword in his hand to unleash an invisible force of attraction.

The blood from the corpses lying on the ground flowed slowly from their wounds toward the blade of the Seven Kill Sword, as if drawn by some mysterious power.

The sword body seemed to possess a life of its own, greedily absorbing the fresh blood and emitting an eerie red glow.

As it absorbed more and more blood, the runes on the blade lit up one by one, and that monstrous baleful aura grew increasingly intense.

The chaos lasted for less than half an incense stick's time before it ended.

All the guests attending the auction, the maids of the Treasure Pavilion, the guards... everyone had been killed and reduced to mummified corpses.

"Vice Sect Master, the cleanup is complete."

A man in black walked up to the old man and knelt on one knee.

"Let's go, follow me and kill our way out."

The old man swung the Seven Kill Sword, the blood-red light on the blade surging violently as it erupted with a terrifying sword qi.

That sword qi was several zhang long, black as ink, and carried the power to destroy heaven and earth, splitting the auction hall in two with a single strike.

Walls collapsed, pillars snapped, and the entire Treasure Pavilion teetered on the brink of ruin under that single blow.

Dozens of men in black followed behind him, surging out of the Treasure Pavilion like a tide.

Inside the inn.

"So this is the Zhuqi Realm!"

Chen Xuan cleaned the grime off his body, changed into fresh clothes, and carefully sensed the changes in his physical form.

The bronze luster on the surface of his skin had become subdued, replaced by a faint, ethereal golden halo.

Chen Xuan stretched his limbs, his joints popping and cracking like roasted beans; he felt as though his body had become much lighter, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted from him.

With a casual wave, his arm sliced through the air, producing a sharp whistling sound—the result of the air being torn apart by his sheer speed.

Beyond that.

Chen Xuan also felt his five senses had been significantly enhanced.

His eyes saw things with greater clarity; he could discern the veins on leaves a hundred meters away, and the speed of insects flying through the air seemed to have slowed several times over, with no minute detail able to escape his gaze.

His ears could capture the sound of wind rustling in the far distance, and the noise from the street outside the inn window, once chaotic, now became distinct and layered.

He could clearly distinguish the footsteps of guests upstairs, the breathing of people in the room next door, and even the crisp sound of the innkeeper clicking an abacus downstairs.

The cries of street vendors in the distance, the laughter of children, and the sound of carriage wheels rolling over bluestone slabs flooded his ears like a tide, yet they did not make him feel agitated; his brain seemed to automatically filter out the noise, capturing only useful information.

Suddenly, Chen Xuan heard a burst of commotion coming from the street in the distance.