Mystic Embryo Shattered

Zhao Yang made his move, and the lingering chill on his body vanished in the blink of an eye.

"This time, you did very well."

"You adapted to the situation. When your strength isn't enough, you have to rely on clever tricks."

"You've got a bit of your uncle's old style."

Zhao Yang spared no praise.

That kick from the gods had truly taken him by surprise.

Behind them, Lu Hong's mouth twitched.

You've got my ass's style.

Stop putting gold on your own face.

Zhao Hong struggled to get up, still shaken by lingering fear.

Luckily, he had lived two lives.

Otherwise, how could a mere mud-legged mountain village brat have reacted so quickly?

Looking at Wu Qingyu's body, still twisted even in death, Zhao Hong lowered his head to look at his own foot. The power of that kick—regardless of man, woman, old, or young—would make even ghosts despair at the sight of it.

As for the two of their deaths, he felt no pity whatsoever.

They had colluded with bandits and raised demonic creatures. One could imagine how many innocents the Cold Blade Sect had secretly harmed.

If they had been framed, or if there had been some hidden twist, Lu Hong would not have stayed silent. As the senior disciple of the martial hall and a Blood Force-level martial artist, it was impossible for him to know nothing.

Their deaths were no great loss.

At that moment.

The others finally walked over in a daze.

The village entrance became lively once more.

Half an hour later.

Zhao Hong sat in Zhao Yang's home.

He blinked curiously at Zhao Yang and Lu Hong, who sat facing one another.

After all the twists and turns, it was finally these two's turn to face off.

"Let's spar."

Lu Hong's gaze was sharp, his fighting spirit rising.

Zhao Yang waved a hand.

"You're no match for me. There's no need."

"You look down on me?"

Lu Hong flew into a rage, his face flushing red.

"No."

A bitter look appeared on Zhao Yang's face. "My Mystic Embryo has shattered. My martial path ends here. If I fight you, you truly won't be my match—but it'll worsen my injury too."

"What?"

As if struck by lightning, Lu Hong swayed, staring at Zhao Yang in disbelief. "Your Mystic Embryo... shattered?"

The Mystic Embryo Realm.

Zhao Yang had actually reached the Mystic Embryo Realm.

But his Mystic Embryo had shattered.

"That's right."

Zhao Yang sighed. The aura around him suddenly changed, no longer concealed in the slightest.

A withered, decaying air rose of its own accord.

Even Zhao Hong could feel it clearly.

He was stunned senseless.

The Mystic Embryo was the foundation of a martial artist.

To survive after one's Mystic Embryo shattered was already a stroke of immense luck.

Let alone continue martial cultivation.

Seeing the faint bitterness on Zhao Yang's face, Zhao Hong's heart trembled.

For nearly a month, he had not revealed the slightest sign of it.

If it had been him, how could he possibly have remained so calm?

Zhao Yang had not returned home to visit family.

His heart had turned to ashes, and he had no choice but to return.

"Uncle, who did this?"

"Can it be healed?"

Zhao Yang let out a long sigh. "How could a shattered Mystic Embryo be restored?"

"So you have a day like this too... Damn it."

Lu Hong cursed under his breath, but there was not the slightest hint of triumph on his face. With a cold expression, he sneered, "Forget it. Since you're this miserable, I won't fight you."

"Thank you."

Zhao Yang did not care. Smiling broadly, he clasped his hands in salute.

Lu Hong remained silent for a long time, his expression incomparably complicated.

Before coming here, he had already made full preparations. He knew that no matter what, he was no match for Zhao Yang, yet he had still refused to accept it.

But upon suddenly hearing such "bad news," his emotions churned. He could not tell whether he felt sorrow or joy; everything had become a chaotic mess, leaving him completely dumbfounded.

Seeing Zhao Yang's calm expression, Lu Hong suddenly gave a bitter smile.

I'm inferior to him.

I was inferior to him before, and I'm still inferior to him now.

If it were me, how could I remain this composed?

His Mystic Embryo had shattered.

"Since you're here, help me with something."

"No."

"Why should I help you?"

Lu Hong sneered.

As though he had not heard, Zhao Yang continued, "That blade is worth quite a bit, but Ah Hong can't use it. It should be worth several hundred taels."

"And those two corpses. You said the authorities had a reward of three hundred taels."

"Help take them back to the county. Use half to exchange for medicinal ointments from your martial hall, and the other half for cultivation resources useful for Blood Refinement and Inner Force."

"Thanks."

Lu Hong took two deep breaths, shot Zhao Yang a vicious glare, then silently picked up the Cold Blade from the yard and walked straight out.

Zhao Yang shook his head with a smile. "That fellow, he's still the same as ever."

Zhao Hong said with difficulty, "Uncle, you and Lu Hong...?"

"What deep hatred could there be? Back then, I merely kept him under my thumb and beat him up a few times. He's just never had the chance to win back his pride."

Zhao Yang laughed freely.

Zhao Hong inwardly said, Just as expected.

It was almost exactly as he had guessed.

A thought flashed through his mind. He looked at Zhao Yang, wanting to speak but hesitating.

One look from Zhao Yang was enough. He shook his head with a soft laugh. "You don't need to worry about me. Every person has their fate. This is simply mine."

"It isn't as though there are no precious medicines in this world capable of rebuilding a Mystic Embryo. But even my master could do nothing. You can imagine what that means. It's not something I'm qualified to obtain."

Zhao Hong fell silent, unable to say anything.

"Uncle, was it an accident, or was it man-made?"

"Both."

Zhao Hong's pupils contracted, and a fierce glint flashed through his eyes.

Zhao Yang could be considered the one who had guided him onto the martial path. Though their time together had been short, Zhao Yang had taught him martial arts wholeheartedly and spared him from worrying over money.

Without Zhao Yang, martial techniques, resources, and money—even with Dragon Tendon and Tiger Bones, he would have struggled until half his life was worn away.

Zhao Yang had shown him tremendous kindness.

One had to know gratitude and repay it.

He did not know how severe an injury from a shattered Mystic Embryo was, but it certainly could not be as easy as Zhao Yang made it seem.

He did not ask who Zhao Yang's enemy was.

It was obvious that Zhao Yang would not tell him.

Zhao Yang had a master. If revenge had been possible, it would have been taken long ago.

If revenge was impossible, then the implications were clear.

Knowing now had no meaning at all.

"Now that we have the medicinal ointments, the training ahead will be even more brutal."

"Go back and rest. Starting tomorrow, I've already made a detailed training plan for your next two months. I guarantee you'll never forget it."

Zhao Yang grinned.

"Uncle, I'll head back first."

Zhao Hong nodded heavily, left the courtyard, and returned home.

The accidental arrival of the Cold Blade Sect's remnants today, along with what had happened to Zhao Yang, gave him a deep warning.

Clear Creek Village was relatively united, with no troublesome nonsense. After his parents died, there had only been the occasional contest of pride and courage among the children. Otherwise, he would have suffered plenty.

Outside, it was even more a world where people ate people.

A martial dynasty.

Demons running rampant.

How could there be peace?

Only these two battles could be considered true trials.

Fighting to the death, bathing in blood and fire, he vaguely felt that his entire being had undergone a transformation.

"I have no way to help with Uncle Yang's injuries, but as for Uncle Yang's enemies, if I ever get the chance in the future, no matter who they are, I will repay them a hundredfold."

"A two-month training plan... after two months, it'll be about time for me to leave Clear Creek Village."

Zhao Hong had caught a hint of something in Zhao Yang's tone.

Two months of high-intensity training would be enough to lay down a solid foundation.

Besides, most importantly, there were no resources nearby to support his continued cultivation.

In two months, he could at least reach the completion of Blood Refinement, or perhaps Inner Force.

With his Dragon Tendon and Tiger Bones, the resources he required—beast blood, beast meat, precious medicines—were not things that could easily be found in the mountains behind the village.

After going dozens of li deep, Zhao Yang had already turned the area upside down through several hunts after returning.

The weaker ones no longer had any effect.

He could only go out.