In an instant, a shocking smear of red appeared upon the blue-white stone steps leading to the Strength Clan estate.
The entire process had been unimaginably swift—so swift that even the wind had no time to react.
Until their deaths, those young masters could not understand how Qian Cheng, whom they claimed should have been left to rot in the wilderness, had dared to charge alone into the Strength Clan's headquarters without fear of death.
Nor had they expected that, in his eyes, these young masters who wielded influence everywhere and were so eagerly fawned over were worth less than ants.
He had not even spared them a glance before casually slaughtering them like pigs.
In a side hall of the Strength Clan estate, Niu Lang held a teacup with a somewhat gloomy expression.
The finest pre-rain Longjing tea inside had long gone cold, yet he had been drinking it for half the day.
What exactly was Tai Heng thinking?
He had insisted on keeping him at the Strength Clan for a few more days of leisure.
Niu Lang had been eager to return home, but the proposal Tai Heng had made earlier was indeed tempting.
Leaving abruptly now would seem rather heartless.
"Clan Head! Bad news! Something terrible has happened!"
Just as Niu Lang was quietly pondering Tai Heng's intentions, a servant dressed in coarse clothes stumbled into the hall.
"What are you panicking for?"
"Our Strength Clan has stood for ten thousand years. What storms have we not weathered? Acting so flustered and panicked—what kind of behavior is that?"
Tai Heng frowned and rebuked him sternly.
"It-it's Qian Cheng! Clan Head, Qian Cheng is here!"
"He-he kills everyone he sees! The guards at the gate, the patrolling disciples—he's killed them all!"
**"We can't stop him at all! He's