Slaughtering Qin Sihai

"Is this... the Blood Origin Technique? You are from the sect, but I don't recognize you. Why are you trying to kill me? Who sent you?"

"Even if I lost Baishui Town and caused the sect to suffer losses, I have put in years of hard work in Lianshan City, if not meritorious service. My crimes do not warrant death."

Qin Sihai's pupils constricted slightly as he asked.

He truly could not understand.

It was merely losing a single Baishui Town.

How could the sect send someone to kill him over that?

Furthermore, even if they truly intended to punish him, they would not send someone to do it so covertly. They would have dispatched sect law enforcement officers to bring him back to the sect for judgment.

"No comment."

A smile appeared on the corner of Chen Xuan's mouth, but there was no warmth in it; it was like a blade that had just been quenched in ice water.

With a gentle flick of his wrist, the Hanfeng Sword let out a clear, resonant hum. The blood-red light flowing along the blade suddenly surged, transforming into a mournful streak of light that tore through the night and struck directly at Qin Sihai's face.

Passing off the fake as the real.

The Huanri Technique was truly a peerless art created by a grandmaster of martial arts who had blazed a new trail from a divine technique; it was capable of deceiving the heavens and passing off the fake as the real.

Even Qin Sihai, a Zhuqi Realm expert of the Blood Fiend Devil Sect, could not tell that the Blood Origin Technique Chen Xuan was displaying was a sham.

For this strike, Chen Xuan was still using the Nine Shadow Killing Sword, but he was channeling simulated Blood Origin True Qi.

The sword shadows were no longer golden, but blood-red.

Forty-five blood-red sword shadows bloomed simultaneously in the night sky, like a blossoming blood-red lotus—bewitching and lethal.

Wherever the sword shadows passed, the air was torn apart with sharp, whistling sounds.

"This is the Nine Shadow Killing Sword!" Qin Sihai's expression changed drastically as he shouted, "Who on earth sent you?"

He recognized this sword technique.

Although the Nine Shadow Killing Sword of the Blood Fiend Devil Sect was not a peerless art, it was a leader among superior martial techniques. Anyone capable of cultivating it to the second level—forty-five shadows in one strike—was definitely not an unknown figure within the sect.

How could such a person come to kill him?

Qin Sihai had no time to think further and retreated violently.

He tapped his toes against the ground, his body drifting backward like a leaf caught in the wind. Simultaneously, his hands crossed rapidly in front of him, his ten fingers shifting through gestures like a butterfly dancing among flowers. A blood-red barrier of True Qi condensed out of thin air, like a translucent wall of blood-colored glass, standing between him and the forty-five sword shadows.

The technique he cultivated was also the Blood Origin Technique, having opened thirty acupuncture points. If he could reach thirty-six acupuncture points connected to the sea of qi, he would be at the fifth level of the Zhuqi Realm.

Thirty acupuncture points were enough to look down upon all rivals in a small place like Lianshan City, but at this moment, facing the blood-red sword lotus slashing toward him, he felt a long-lost tremor from the depths of his soul.

This was because Chen Xuan's "Blood Origin True Qi" was essentially simulated from Huanri True Qi.

Although his Huanri Technique had only reached the second level of the Zhuqi Realm, connecting one hundred and eight qi meridians—still some distance from the one hundred and eighty meridians of the third level—the Huanri Technique, as a peerless-level internal cultivation method, possessed a purity and condensation of True Qi that far exceeded the Blood Origin Technique. Thus, the quality of the simulated Blood Origin True Qi actually surpassed that of Qin Sihai.

"Bang—"

The blood-red sword shadows struck the True Qi barrier like lightning from the nine heavens.

A dull, thunderous boom exploded in the main hall, and the air was shaken into visible ripples.

The blood-red barrier lasted for less than a breath before shattering under the impact of the sword shadows, turning into a sky full of blood-red light spots that drifted down like shattered rubies.

Blood gushed from Qin Sihai's mouth as he was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, slamming heavily into the bluestone wall behind him.

"Boom—"

The wall was instantly covered in spiderweb-like cracks, and gravel fell with a rustle. Qin Sihai slid down the wall to the ground, his knees hitting the cold floor. His face was as pale as paper, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth down his chin, splashing onto the bluestone slabs in shocking, flower-like patterns.

"Who... who exactly are you?"

Qin Sihai struggled to lift his head, using his last bit of strength to widen his eyes as he looked at the slowly approaching Chen Xuan.

His voice was hoarse and trembling, his eyes filled with fear and unwillingness, like a trapped beast driven into a corner—wanting to struggle, yet knowing full well there was no way to escape.

"I said, who I am is not important." Chen Xuan walked up to him, looking down from above: "The dead do not need to know too much."

Chen Xuan said no more. With a flick of his wrist, the Hanfeng Sword traced a graceful arc in the air. The blood-red sword qi swept across Qin Sihai's throat as lightly as a silk thread, drawing out a fine mist of blood.

That strike was too fast—so fast that Qin Sihai did not even feel the pain.

He only felt a chill at his neck, and then his vision began to spin; the world began to blur and grow distant.

Qin Sihai's eyes widened to their limit, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled onto the shore.

He wanted to say something, but could only emit a "he-he" sound—the noise of air passing through a severed windpipe, hollow and desperate.

His body slowly collapsed, his head lolling to one side, his pupils gradually dilating.

No more sound.

The main hall was terrifyingly quiet, leaving only the rustling of the wind against the window paper and the ticking of blood droplets falling from the long sword in Chen Xuan's hand onto the floor.

"Le-leader!"

The confidant of Qin Sihai in the hall finally regained his senses.

Or rather, he had been shocked awake.

He stood frozen in place, his legs feeling as heavy as if they were filled with lead, every cell in his body trembling.

His mind was a complete blank, with only one thought echoing repeatedly.

The gang leader was dead.

The leader, at the fourth stage of Qi Casting, was dead.

Who was Qin Sihai?

He was the manager stationed in Lianshan City for the Blood Fiend Devil Sect, the leader of the Blood Wolf Gang, and a figure who stood on equal footing with Sun Tianxing of the Red Sun Gang and Wan Zhenshan of the Iron Sword Sect.

In this city, his name was a protective talisman, an imperial sword, capable of striking fear into the hearts of countless people.

But now, he was dead.

Killed by someone in two strikes.

The first strike broke his defense and dealt a heavy blow to his body.

The second strike took his life, clean and decisive.

From start to finish, it took no more than three breaths of time.

The confidant was so frightened that he remained rooted to the spot like a statue struck by lightning, having even forgotten how to breathe.

"Take me to the treasury."

Chen Xuan wiped the blood from the Hanfeng Sword onto Qin Sihai's robes, returned it to its sheath, and then looked at the person in the main hall who had been scared witless.

His tone was as indifferent as if he were asking for directions, without threats, intimidation, or even any excess emotion.

But it was precisely this indifference that made the confidant feel even more terrified.

A person who had just killed someone could actually speak in such a calm tone.

Such a person was either a cold-blooded madman or a true powerhouse accustomed to life and death; either way, he was not someone he could afford to provoke.

"Yes... h-hero, this way."

The confidant finally snapped back to reality, his speech stuttering and his legs shaking so violently that it seemed he might collapse to the ground at any moment.

He dared not refuse, nor did he even dare to entertain the thought of running away.

Even the gang leader Qin Sihai was dead; in the eyes of this person, he probably didn't even count as an ant, and could be easily crushed with a single finger.