Kill Them If They Deserve It

After Zhou Qingchen departed, He Ziren, who had finally found his voice, fixed a cold gaze upon Pang Jian.

Pang Jian remained in a secluded corner like a lone wolf, maintaining his posture of sitting in silent meditation.

With his head bowed low, he showed no concern for the exploration of the rock pile being conducted by the Zhou and Ning families.

He turned a deaf ear to He Ziren's words as well.

"I am asking you a question."

Seeing Pang Jian remain silent, He Ziren, who had felt dissatisfied with him from their first meeting, suddenly spoke in a chilling tone.

Having been ignored by Zhou Qingchen for so long, the young master of the He Family had a belly full of frustration with nowhere to vent, and he had not expected a mere little hunter to dare ignore his questioning.

He frowned as he looked over, discovering that the eerie, frigid air drifting out from the rock pile was gathering densely around Pang Jian.

He Ziren was immediately startled; he eyed Pang Jian with a look of astonishment and crept toward him on light feet.

Pang Jian, who had been pretending not to hear the questions while immersed in his cultivation, had assumed He Ziren would leave him be, but he had not expected this young master of the He Family to be so relentless.

With no other choice, Pang Jian was forced to cease absorbing the "Mystic Yin Qi" and looked up slightly, saying, "I do not know."

"What are you doing?"

Upon drawing near, the young master of the He Family, feeling the extremely low temperature around Pang Jian, had no intention of letting him off easily.

"The spiritual energy locked within this forbidden land contains the cold, poisonous Profound Yin Power, which is not something an ordinary person can endure. If I am not mistaken, you were absorbing the Profound Yin Power earlier, were you not? And you... you are actually unharmed?"

He Ziren drew a breath, and as if he had discovered a new world, he hissed coldly, "Boy, what kind of wicked cultivation technique are you practicing?"

Only those with suitable techniques, or perhaps despised evil cultivators, would dare attempt to channel this kind of "Profound Yin Power" into their bodies to slowly refine the cold poison hidden within.

That a mere little hunter would know how to refine "Profound Yin Power" immediately aroused He Ziren's suspicion.

Cold light flickered in his eyes as he scrutinized Pang Jian, his mind racing through various ways to inflict torture. Perhaps, he thought, I can still extract some unexpected gains from this hunter.

Pang Jian replied woodenly, "You are mistaken."

"I would be mistaken?"

He Ziren stepped forward, grabbed the clothes on Pang Jian's chest, and hoisted him into the air.

The sharp-eyed young master of the He Family stared straight at Pang Jian and sneered with a threat: "Boy, a lowly hunter like you—if I am in a bad mood, killing you is as simple as that."

"And you..."

He Ziren bared his teeth, lifting Pang Jian even higher, and mocked, "If you dare move against me, given your background and status, you would have no place to stand in the entire Fourth Realm."

Possessing the cultivation of the Pulse-Opening Realm, He Ziren had unobstructed meridians and could circulate his spiritual energy with ease; he could be said to have boundless strength.

Under his powerful force, Pang Jian, who was taller and more robust than him, was left dangling in mid-air.

Unable to keep his feet on the ground, a panicked Pang Jian hurriedly drew the long blade from his waist, intending to fight for his life.

"Hah!"

He Ziren shook his head and sneered, his body suddenly glowing with a hazy radiance as he covered himself in spiritual energy.

"With just that long blade in your hand, you don't even have the qualifications to break my skin."

He Ziren swung Pang Jian's body, making him sway like a kite, and goaded him with a humiliating tone: "If you don't believe me, you can try."

"Clang! Clang!"

Pang Jian did indeed strike with his blade, hacking at He Ziren's arm, but it was as if he had struck a wall of copper; he failed to break He Ziren's skin and caused him not the slightest bit of harm.

He Ziren laughed strangely: "I told you it was useless."

Seeing that he could do nothing to He Ziren and was being held high by his lapels, unable even to break free, Pang Jian turned a cold face toward the rock pile.

The Ning and Zhou families needed someone familiar with the Cenji Mountains; until their exploration mission was complete, they could not afford to lose him.

—He prepared to make some noise.

"Answer my question, or you will die immediately."

He Ziren suddenly stopped the hand that was shaking him, allowing Pang Jian's body to stabilize in mid-air, and then used his other hand to press against Pang Jian's dantian spiritual sea, whispering: "As long as I can prove you are practicing an evil technique, I will have a reason to kill you, and I can naturally explain it to Ning Yao."

Knowing there was no escape, Pang Jian had no choice but to scream at the top of his lungs, attempting to draw the attention of the Zhou and Ning families.

However, his scream was drowned out by a piercing, shrill whistle that erupted suddenly from the depths of the rock pile.

This time, the strange screech was even more shrill and terrifying, and it was no longer the sound of wind, but rather the roar and bellow of some hidden demon!

Once this sharp, strange screech emerged, everyone—whether inside or outside the rock pile—began to bleed from their ears and noses, as if bombarded by some evil psychic tide.

It was not just the people from the Ning and Zhou families inside the rock pile; even the One-Horned Rhino and the warhorses outside were struck as if by a heavy blow, all appearing lost and soul-stricken.

Pang Jian's chest grew hot, and the Bronze Tablet pressed against his skin flashed with a momentary glimmer, shielding his mind and will from the impact of the screech.

He regained his senses instantly, and immediately saw that the arm He Ziren had been using to hold him was now hanging limply.

Not only that, but the hazy radiance that He Ziren had been circulating around his body had also vanished due to the screeching from the rock pile.

Inside and outside the rock pile, everyone who had been eroded by the sound wore a look of confusion and bewilderment, as if they no longer knew who they were.

As the screeching, which felt capable of piercing eardrums, continued to ring out, Pang Jian realized immediately that the people from the Ning and Zhou families had likely encountered some new, terrifying danger within the rock pile.

As soon as his feet touched the ground and he stood firmly on the solid earth once more, he gripped his long blade tightly with both hands.

The shrill, piercing screech seemed to possess a magic capable of dragging souls into an abyss of evil. Pang Jian held his long blade, watching He Ziren's vacant face, his pupils cold and deep as a frozen cavern.

With only a moment's hesitation, he wore a fierce expression and drove the tip of his blade into He Ziren's heart.

"Squish!"

Bereft of the protection of a hazy spiritual glow, Pang Jian's blade immediately tore through the skin and flesh of the He family scion, driving deeper into his chest cavity.

Under the intense, stabbing pain, He Ziren actually resisted the evil power contained within the screech, suddenly jolted awake by the agony.

Blood streamed from the young master's ears and nostrils. The moment he regained consciousness, he saw Pang Jian, fearing his strength might be insufficient, gripping the blade with both hands to drive it further into his chest.

Born into the He family of the Fourth Realm, a noble scion always looked up to by commoners, he could hardly believe his eyes.

His blood-streaked face looked terrifying, his eyes filled with fury and agitation. He glared fixedly at Pang Jian, who was still exerting every ounce of strength, attempting to do something.

"Then I shall test it."

Pang Jian chose to meet his gaze directly, his tone and expression perfectly calm, without a trace of fear or unease in his eyes.

The blade continued to sink deeper. Pang Jian's hands, holding the weapon, did not tremble in the slightest, as if he had done such a thing countless times before.

"You!"

Under the heart-wrenching agony, He Ziren opened his mouth to speak, but only a mouthful of thick, dark blood gushed out.

"Boom!"

Like Liu Qi, he fell backward, the long blade still protruding from his chest.

Having used the eerie, piercing screech to assassinate He Ziren, who had been plotting against him, Pang Jian took a deep breath and yanked the blood-stained blade out with a violent tug.

As blood sprayed wildly, Pang Jian dodged like a bolt of lightning, then turned his gaze toward the pile of rocks, his blade dripping with the pungent scent of gore.

He was gauging what terrifying crisis had befallen the members of the Ning and Zhou families who had entered the rock pile, when he immediately saw wisps of ghostly shadows drifting out from the corpses of those Blood Moon practitioners.

The shadows were equally blurred, similar to the "Beast Sha" aura he had previously drawn out with his Pot-Heaven Qi Cultivation Art, which should have entered his spirit sea.

These shadows were in human form, and because their grade was far higher than the "Beast Sha," even he could see them with the naked eye.

Once the shadows—the transformed souls of the dead practitioners—flew out from the corpses, they lunged toward the people of the Ning and Zhou families; some shadows even took the opportunity to slip into the bodies of the living.

Those possessed by the shadows instantly lost their own consciousness and began to attack those around them.

"Evil ghosts? Wandering souls?"

Pang Jian was secretly astonished, stunned by a phenomenon beyond his understanding, and stood frozen in place for a moment.

"Boom!"

From behind the tall figure of Zhou Qingchen, a towering, deep-red mountain suddenly emerged, slowly hovering above his head.

The red mountain hung in the void, majestic and solemn, releasing a vast aura as if it could suppress all evil in the heavens.

Zhou Qingchen, who had been in a state of distraction and shock, regained his wits just in time with the appearance of the red mountain, and suddenly raised his arms to shout: "Red Clouds Filling the Sky!"

From the magnificent divine mountain rising slowly, dazzling red clouds suddenly erupted, enveloping those around him one after another.

"They aren't from the Blood Moon, they're from the Yin Spirit Temple! They're just wearing Blood Moon robes! Damn it, it was the people of the Yin Spirit Temple who died in this forbidden land, and their souls have transformed into high-grade Spirit Sha!"

Following Zhou Qingchen, Han Duping, awakened by the deep red glow, stomped his feet in a rage.

"People from the Yin Spirit Temple?"

Ning Yuanshan, Ning Yao, and the others were awakened one after another, all cursing the Yin Spirit Temple practitioners for wearing Blood Moon robes after death, which had caused Han Duping to misjudge the situation and lead everyone into the rock pile too early.

The loudly shouting Ning Yuanshan took out the Flame Dragon Stone Pillar that had previously helped Pang Jian resist the "Beast Sha," and ignited a sea of fire once more, covering several people possessed by the "Spirit Sha."

Under the extremely rigid and yang-filled heat, the "Spirit Sha" were forced to flee from their hosts, hiding in the cool shadows nearby.

At this moment, Zhou Qingchen, Han Duping, Ning Yuanshan, and Ning Yao all exerted their strength, each summoning their own artifacts to hunt down the "Spirit Sha" that had revealed their traces.

The several practitioners who had reached the Pulse-Opening Realm joined forces to either annihilate or drive away the so-called high-grade "Spirit Sha."

"Giggle, and that still didn't kill you all."

Suddenly, a soft, charming laugh drifted out through the White Paper Fan. As everyone turned to look, they saw blood-red bamboo stalks flying out from within the white paper.

Each stalk of blood bamboo, like bone and muscle, wove and constructed itself in the void, rapidly transforming into a bewitching, ethereal blood shadow.

The blood shadow, whose true face remained hidden, did not touch the ground as she flew through the void with a giggle, drifting toward the depths of the Cenji Mountains.

"Little ones, I shall head inside first; we will meet again. Heh, after being trapped in that broken fan for hundreds of years, I can finally break free. I will never be sealed by those old things from the Yin Spirit Temple again."

The graceful woman muttered to herself along the way, gradually fading from everyone's sight.

As she drifted away, the "Spirit Sha" that had escaped the Zhou and Ning families followed her from all directions, vanishing one by one from the group's field of vision.

The shaken crowd wanted to give chase, but they were far too slow to catch her, and could only watch as she and the "Spirit Sha" disappeared.

"Boom! Boom!"

Not long after she had left, the One-Horned Rhinos ridden by the Zhou family collapsed and died one after another.

Many of the practitioners who had come with Zhou Qingchen also died in this catastrophe, and on the Ning family side, besides Ning Yao and Ning Yuanshan, only Zhang Heng remained alive.

In a short span of time, the Zhou and Ning families had suffered heavy losses, and both families looked dejected, feeling deeply frustrated.

"How did He Ziren die as well?"

After Ning Yuanshan regained his composure, he arrived outside the pile of rubble and immediately discovered the He Family young master lying in a pool of blood.

The gruesome, gaping hole in He Ziren's chest was still bubbling with blood; he lay on the ground with his eyes wide open, staring at the sky, his face etched with fury and unwillingness.

Pang Jian, holding a blood-stained long blade, stood quietly to the side without saying a word.

Ning Yuanshan's expression was grave as he asked in a cold voice, "Did you do this?"

"I was also possessed by a Spirit Sha," Pang Jian said helplessly.

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