Killing Time

Within the stronghold, joy and harmony reigned, but outside, a faint killing intent began to rise.

A wisp of black mist halted above the forest atop the mountain, gradually dissipating to reveal two dark figures.

"Where is this?"

Abruptly torn from that space, Zhu Xiyan instinctively scanned her surroundings with wary eyes.

Soon, she spotted the stronghold in the valley, brimming with laughter and cheer.

Without glancing at Zhu Xiyan, Hals fixed his gaze on the stronghold, his eyes burning with fervor. The craving for souls made the Soul Flame in his eyes flicker more intensely.

"Kill everyone inside—the more, the better. That's your stage assessment, if you can complete this task." Hals turned his head to look at Zhu Xiyan, forcibly suppressing his own desire, and spoke flatly. Yet his usually calm, low, hoarse voice now sounded strained and desperate.

"If you finish this task, it'll prove you have a shred of worth. You'll have the power to make those who once looked down on you see you with respect..."

Hals's words stirred Zhu Xiyan's emotions, her chest heaving slightly. Her eyes blazed as she stared at the stronghold, as if she had already sentenced everyone inside to death.

"No, that's not enough." Zhu Xiyan's voice was hoarse, her vocal cords seeming torn, no longer the crisp tone of before.

Her eyes bloodshot, as if spewing flames: "I need to repay them properly too, let them taste my care!"

Under his hood, the corners of Hals's mouth curled up, the arc widening until it became a silent, grating laugh.

"Good, very good..."

His voice was barely audible. Through Zhu Xiyan's flesh, Hals's Soul Flame clearly saw her soul fire blazing—a flame of anger and vengeance.

"Whoosh"

Hals grinned, a sinister smile on his lips. With a wave of his hand, his robe billowed, and a thick burst of black mist exploded, enveloping him before vanishing in an instant. Only a Whisper lingered atop the mountain peak.

"Go on. I'll be waiting for you at the end..."

Listening to her teacher's voice fade away, Zhu Xiyan took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. In mere moments, her eyes shifted from fervor to a chilling calm, a cold aura surging forth.

She crouched slightly, and three Soul Rings—yellow, yellow, purple—appeared behind her, pulsing slowly, yet eerily lacking their usual dazzling glow.

As the Soul Rings manifested, a pair of small, cute cat ears sprouted on Zhu Xiyan's head.

Her left hand swept across her waist, producing a black mask. She raised it to cover her face, and beneath it, the corner of her mouth curved into a cruel arc.

With a sudden burst of force from her legs, she transformed into a black phantom, charging down the mountain at breakneck speed.

"The hunt begins..."

Turning into a phantom, Zhu Xiyan quickly reached the stronghold's entrance. She looked up at the few careless guards standing on the watchtower. With a sweet smile, her first Soul Ring, dim in luster, flickered faintly. In an instant, her already extreme speed surged further, and she pounced on the guards like a startled hare.

The guards at the gate were unusually lax today. The whole stronghold was feasting, and only they had drawn the short straw, stuck on duty and missing the banquet.

As they grumbled, a guard leaning on a spear suddenly saw a clawed hand burst through his comrade's chest, still clutching a slowly beating heart.

The guard froze, instinctively rubbing his eyes. When he opened them again, a graceful figure stood before him.

The figure wore a hood, the lower half of her face covered by a black mask, but her eyes, curved like crescent moons, revealed she was a woman.

The guard finally snapped to. He stumbled back in terror, tripping over his own spear.

He opened his mouth, but a shrill cry died in his throat before it could escape.

"En—"

A slender, clawed hand pierced his heart, blood staining the arm that gripped it.

With a squelch, she pulled her arm free, and the guard crumpled to the ground.

Zhu Xiyan gazed at the heart slowly ceasing to beat in her hand. Behind her mask, she extended her delicate tongue to lightly lick her lips, a hint of allure in the gesture.

"Welcome to hell..."

Her voice was lazy and low, slightly hoarse, but it couldn't hide the seductive tone. Killing for the first time seemed to have fully unleashed the beast caged within Zhu Xiyan's heart.

Casually crushing the heart in her hand, Zhu Xiyan looked toward the center of the stronghold. Countless people were waiting for her there.

With a low laugh, she vanished once more into a phantom.

"Oh, well. Looks like there are plenty of new toys waiting for me..."

The bald leader felt a bit drunk. Half-awake, half-dreaming, he proudly surveyed his underlings below. This was his empire, and only a hero like him could achieve immortality.

But the bald man was puzzled. Wasn't something off?

He sensed his surroundings, catching a faint, familiar scent in the air.

A smell that had accompanied him half his life—

The smell of blood!

The bald man's eyes snapped wide open. Veins bulged like snakes on his smooth, shiny scalp.

"Bang"

He erupted, his face twisted in fury, fleshy cheeks trembling. He kicked the table before him aside, his soul power surging, and a half-man-tall azure-gold battle-axe appeared in his hands.

With a vicious swing, he split the table in two, sending dishes, bowls, wine, and food scattering across the floor. Lifting the axe from the mess, the bald man swept his fierce gaze around and bellowed in rage:

"Fuck! Where'd this little thief come from, daring to raise hell on my turf?!"

The sudden change jolted the handsome young man nearby, who was nearly drunk and barely holding his liquor, sending him scrambling away on all fours in fright.

None of the bandits seated below dared make a sound; in an instant, the stronghold went from lively laughter to dead silence.

After a moment, a hoarse voice laced with lazy allure rang out from a corner. Zhu Xiyan's graceful figure was slightly slumped over a bandit, who lay utterly still.

The bald man glared viciously toward the source of the voice, just in time to see the still-dripping heart Zhu Xiyan toyed with in her hand, and the gaping hole in her subordinate's chest.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze unreadable, but every bandit who knew him understood—this little thief was in for it.

His voice deep and strained, the bald man strode step by step toward Zhu Xiyan, axe in hand:

"Who gave you the guts, a mere Soul Venerable, to come raise hell here? Huh?"

Suddenly accelerating, he closed the distance in a few long strides, swinging his massive axe with deceptive ease as it howled through the air toward her.

Alarms blared in Zhu Xiyan's mind. She decisively shoved the corpse beneath her forward, her first Soul Ring flashing as she transformed into a phantom, narrowly dodging the heavy, devastating strike.

"Thud."

The sound of the axe biting into flesh rang out as the bandit's corpse was cleaved cleanly from head to groin.

No fountain of blood spraying three meters high—the heart had already been removed, and most of the blood had drained—but plenty of crimson gore and murky white brain matter splattered everywhere.

His strike having missed, the bald man scowled darkly, casually yanking the axe from the corpse. He wiped his scarred face with his left hand, clearing away the tofu-brain-like substance near his mouth.

"Fine."

His voice low, a surging wave of soul power erupted from his body. Six Soul Rings—yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, purple, purple—radiated fierce, intimidating might.

"Woman, you've pissed me off."