Both of them locked eyes, a silent battlefield stretching between them. Wen Ran's gaze was calculating, his sharp mind working overti. He couldn't afford to be reckless. A head-on clash was out of the question; his advantage lay in his cunning and the elent of surprise. His fingers twitched slightly, ready to manipulate the blood he'd already spilled, though he'd need to ti it perfectly. Every second spent observing the old man's stance, his breathing, his aura, was a second closer to forming a strategy that might lead to victory.
As for the old man, his smirk masked the storm brewing inside him. Relief and terror fought for dominance. How could a cripple—a lowly slave—reach such heights? His aura scread of the Spirit Gathering stage, but its oppressive weight felt entirely wrong, far stronger, far more refined. It made no sense. And yet, knowing this, the old man took comfort in his own experience and realm advantage. "A bug is still a bug," he muttered under his breath, steeling himself for what he assud would be a guaranteed win.
"You damn slave," the old man sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've sold your soul, haven't you? Taken the evil path to get back at us. How pathetic. To think you'd go this far for a fleeting mont of vengeance." He let out a bitter laugh, the mockery echoing in the silent, blood-soaked hall. "Throwing away your life just to take down my clan? How pitiful."
Wen Ran's lips curled into a dark smile. "Is that what you think?" His voice carried an icy chill. "No wonder your clan is nothing more than a pile of garbage. You think you're invincible, living in this tiny corner of the world, blind to the truth. Let tell you sothing—your entire clan isn't even worth the dirt under my feet. I won't just kill you. I'll erase you so thoroughly that even the heavens won't rember you. How about that? Are you scared now?"
The old man's smirk faltered, his confidence wavering for just a mont. That aura—demonic and vile—it felt ancient and monstrous, like a ghost from forgotten legends. He couldn't tell if Wen Ran's words were truth or bluff, and that uncertainty gnawed at his resolve. The blood control Wen Ran wielded was like nothing he'd ever seen, the kind of power that only existed in the horrifying tales parents told their children to scare them away from the evil path. Those who wielded such techniques were devils incarnate, capable of the most unspeakable atrocities. And now, standing before him, was a man who embodied every nightmare those legends described.
For the old man, this wasn't just about survival—it was about obliterating a threat that could destroy not only his clan but the world as he knew it. His hands tightened into fists, spiritual energy surging around him like a raging storm. I can't let him live. If I do, he'll eradicate my clan. No, he'll bring ruin to everything.
Wen Ran felt the shift in the old man's energy, the rising intent to kill radiating off him like heat. His grin widened, his own bloodlust burning like a fla. Good. Co at , old dog. Let's see who survives this night.
The old man's aura erupted like a raging storm. His remaining fist transford into the illusory head of a white tiger, radiating a fierce, ethereal glow. His muscles expanded, veins bulging, and a domineering pressure crashed down on Wen Ran like a tidal wave. Wen Ran gripped his black sword tightly, but the oppressive force rooted him in place.
The old man charged forward, his movents precise and deadly. However, as his fist aid to crush Wen Ran, it veered off course at the last mont, smashing into the ground and detonating the floor in a powerful shockwave.
"What the hell?" The old man's voice was laced with confusion and anger. He tried to regain control, but his body moved sluggishly, as though unseen chains bound him. He gritted his teeth, brushing it off as blood loss and exhaustion. With imnse effort, he pushed himself back to his feet—only to feel a sharp, searing pain in his left leg. His balance faltered, and he collapsed to the ground, stunned. His gaze darted to Wen Ran, whose crimson eyes burned with unrelenting malice.
The black sword in Wen Ran's hand glead nacingly as he stepped forward. Each breath ca ragged and uneven, his body shaking under the strain of the curse power he had unleashed monts ago. The technique, used to montarily halt the old man's movents, had sapped nearly all of his remaining spiritual energy, leaving his dantian dangerously depleted. Yet Wen Ran's expression remained resolute, his crimson eyes burning with an unyielding determination. Fear was a luxury he couldn't afford.
With a swift motion, he sliced through the old man's leg, the blade cutting cleanly through flesh and bone. The old man scread, a guttural sound of agony, as blood pooled around him. He tried to launch a desperate counterattack, but his strength was waning. His punch collided with Wen Ran's sword, the two energies clashing violently.
Yet the old man's body betrayed him. His strength faltered, his spiritual energy running dry, and his once-powerful punch lacked the force to match Wen Ran's determination. The sword pressed forward, cutting through the last of his resistance. His remaining arm was severed, blood spraying into the air.
The old man's vision blurred, his body trembling as he stared into Wen Ran's crimson eyes. Those eyes—they weren't human. They bore into his soul, rciless and unrelenting, like the gaze of a demon. His heart sank as he realized the truth: there would be no escape, no salvation.
The old man closed his eyes, surrendering to his fate.
Wen Ran didn't hesitate. With a clean swing, he severed the old man's neck, silencing him forever. The Fang Clan elder collapsed lifelessly, his blood pooling on the ruined floor.
In that instant, a surge of imnse spiritual energy exploded from the old man's body, rushing into Wen Ran like a flood. It filled his dantian to the brim, expanding the vast crimson ocean within. But this ti, sothing new happened. Above the ocean, a small, crimson object began to take shape, radiating a faint, moonlike glow. It hovered above the boundless sea of energy, casting an eerie red light that rippled across the surface.
"What is that?" Wen Ran's voice trembled as he focused on the strange object in his dantian. The presence of it was overwhelming, an ancient and terrifying power that sent chills down his spine. For the first ti in his new life, he felt a flicker of fear—a fear that this newfound power might be sothing far beyond his understanding.
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