His voice, hoarse as the shriek of a demon from hell, each syllable carrying the chill of the Grim Reaper’s scythe, relentlessly gnawed at the spirit of the man in black who had injured Fatty Lin. “Is that a human voice?” Every person present, including the white-haired elder who had been observing from outside, had the exact same thought racing through their minds. Yet, this elder seemed to perceive something more; his eyes suddenly flared with a sharp brilliance. “This boy… this boy possesses innate arrogance?” Innate arrogance, in certain circles and contexts, serves as a signifier. Arrogance of bone, arrogance of spirit, arrogance of bearing, arrogance of heart—it is the makings of those destined to look down upon the world, the ambitious rulers forged since ancient times. “Not just innate arrogance, but he carries a unique aura of defiance. This boy… Haha! Heaven has eyes! Heaven has truly opened its eyes! I’ve finally encountered one!” The white-haired elder began to tremble all over, his gaze locked onto Yang Yi as if he had discovered a new continent, saliva almost dripping from his lips. “Whoosh!” “Whoosh!” A fierce surge of air, the flow of internal energy reinforcing the soft sword, making it rigid—this was the secret behind Yang Yi’s ability to instantly harden his blade with a mere wave of his hand. “Agh!” Yang Yi roared in madness, launching a move named ‘Sweeping Through a Thousand Armies.’ A one-and-a-half-meter sword was no laughing matter. “Clang!” The man in black, unable to fully draw the throwing knife from his sleeve, instinctively raised his crescent moon blade to block the sword sweeping towards him. A shower of sparks erupted from the collision, and his body was violently thrust back several dozen paces. Had he not possessed some foundational skill, he would surely have been sent flying entirely. “Bang!” His figure slammed against the wall, then he dropped to the ground, bracing himself. “Cough, cough, cough!” Blood spewed from the corner of the black-clothed man’s mouth. “So strong!” Utter shock resonated from the depths of his heart. That single, nonchalant sweep had utterly crippled the physique and spirit of this man, who was versed in both ancient martial arts and special abilities. The tables had decisively turned. Moments ago, he felt a numbing weakness spread through his limbs; now, any slight movement sent his meridians, his body, his internal breath, and his blood churning violently. “Hmph!” A bloody glare erupted from Yang Yi’s eyes, causing Xuanyuan Bing and Shangguan Qingyun, standing nearby, to tremble violently. Yang Yi, now resembling a demon god of slaughter, bellowed, “Grandmaster Second Level Domain!” ————————A wind, slowly arrived… But this wind was different. If the gusts from Yang Yi’s previous Grandmaster Domain were imbued with thick killing intent, this new wind was dominated by slaughter, laced with streams of foul bloodlust, and most potent of all, a unique aura of death. It was perhaps because Yang Yi was truly enraged now—violently so. Even when Li Qian or Feng Shi had been injured, he hadn't reached this pitch of fury. Fatty Lin was a brother who had grown up alongside him, always following him, constantly accommodating him, always thinking of his welfare. He would not allow anyone to harm him—not even a god… Thus, the deathly aura, fused with another distinct, bone-chilling coldness that only he normally emitted, made this new wind feel intensely hot—yes, searingly hot. The wind blew gently, yet everyone trapped within Yang Yi’s domain felt its strangeness, as if the essence of death were seeping directly into their skin. Shh! Shh! Bizarre slicing sounds echoed. The man in black stared wide-eyed at the ground, feeling as if chunks of his own flesh were being methodically shorn away. He turned his head to look at his bleeding arm—it was gone. His pupils constricted. “Agh!” “What?” A strange voice echoed in the air. Startled, he couldn't discern Yang Yi’s movement at all; he only saw Yang Yi vanish from his original spot, and then he could no longer trace his figure.

The man in black’s prolonged wails pierced the hearts of the other black-clothed fighters still locked in combat. Tang Shen and Ximen Ling felt their own bodies shaking. Tang Shen stammered, “Th-this… who is he? A monster! A monster!”

“Kill me then!” the man in black screamed from the ground. He knew he was utterly outmatched; his arms were gone, and his body refused to obey his commands. The only escape from this agonizing fate was death.

“You wish to die? Fine… I grant your wish!” Yang Yi’s raspy voice materialized from the air, and a sword plunged downwards. “Sssst!” A spray of crimson blood erupted. The man in black was finally released—yes, released. There was no regret, only an overwhelming sense of finality, causing a faint smile to touch his lips as his eyes closed.

“Hmph!” Yang Yi snorted, showing not a trace of pity. He swept a cold gaze across the hall, then his figure flickered. “All of you, fall back!”

“Dragon Lord!” The fighting Black Guard, the Ten Generals, and even those from the Six Paths of Reincarnation shouted in unison.

“I will handle this myself!” Yang Yi understood their hesitation—they recalled his prior stern command: *‘If any are left alive, bring their heads to me.’* But Yang Yi, consumed by the rage tearing at his mind, paid no heed. His eyes focused on only one command:

“Kill!~~~ Kill!~~~”

“Retreat!”

“Yes!” The assembled forces obeyed instantly and fell back. Yang Yi leaped forward, taking stock. About a dozen black-clothed figures remained, mostly at the Grandmaster level, alongside several special ability users. His killing intent flashed. “All of you, die!”

“Let’s take him together! That guy’s gone mad!”

It was not clear which man in black shrieked the realization, but the dozen figures lunged forward simultaneously. Their crescent blades, trailing wisps of strange energy, blurred into constant, shifting shadows.

“Whoosh!” Yang Yi, utilizing his one-and-a-half-meter soft sword, slashed rapidly, carving a bloody corridor through the center of the attackers. Then, he instantly relaxed his internal energy, and with a *snap*, the soft sword reverted to its pliable state, whipping like a snake to strike the men on either side before he bolted upward in a swift dash.

“Yi Jin Jing?” The white-haired elder, who had been observing from the window, muttered again, as if discovering another profound novelty. “What is this person’s connection to Yang Yitian?”

Time passed, minute by minute, yet in only five minutes, a solitary youth stood in the vast hall, holding his soft sword in one hand, his eyes glowing with a blood-red light, his expression deeply desolate.

“Dragon Lord, please assign punishment!” The Black Guard, the Ten Generals, and the Six Paths of Reincarnation forces, jolted back to reality after seeing the field of corpses, and they all immediately offered their apologies.

“Innocent!” Yang Yi waved his hand, his gaze settling on Tang Shen and Ximen Ling. “Which way do you two choose to die?”

“You… you…” Tang Shen and Ximen Ling stared at Yang Yi, who resembled a god of slaughter, their bodies trembling, their mouths twitching uselessly. They could not utter a single word.

“Nephew Yang, you cannot kill them. After all, they are…”

“Members of two of the Eight Great Families?” Yang Yi turned his head, casting a cold glance at Shangguan Qingyun. “Is that what you intended to say, correct?”

“This…” Shangguan Qingyun gasped, recoiling from the chilling intensity of Yang Yi’s stare. As the current head of the Shangguan family, one of the Eight Great Families, this was the first time in his life he had felt boundless terror before a youth.

“Hmph! If you want to kill, then kill. Why waste so many words!” Ximen Ling scoffed, stepping forward. “I know you don’t fear people from the Eight Great Families. Kill me if you dare!”

“Ximen!” Tang Shen felt a sudden chill in his heart at Ximen Ling’s eagerness for a quick death.

Just as Tang Shen prepared to say something more, Yang Yi gave a strangely knowing smile. “Since you are so eager to die, I don't mind granting your wish…”

As the words fell, Yang Yi’s figure moved with blinding speed. He swung his great sword— “Wait!”

“Clang!” A barricade of ice crystals blocked Yang Yi’s strike, and Xuanyuan Bing flickered into position right in front of him.

Yang Yi stared coldly at Xuanyuan Bing, his tone losing none of its icy edge. “You wish to protect him?”

“I…” Xuanyuan Bing felt a pang of inexplicable grievance under Yang Yi’s sharp gaze. However, remembering that if Yang Yi killed these two, it wouldn't just be two families causing trouble, but far greater complications, she pleaded, “You cannot kill him now.”

“Hmph!” Yang Yi gave a cold snort, vibrating his internal energy to press his sword point directly against Xuanyuan Bing’s neck. “I want them dead today, and no one will dare let them live until tomorrow!”

“You…” Xuanyuan Bing seemed unconcerned by Yang Yi’s threatening gesture, but the sight of his unilateral stubbornness filled her with deep hurt, a glimmer of tears appearing in her eyes.

“Move aside!”

“No, you cannot kill them today…” Xuanyuan Bing’s tears finally fell, and she looked at Yang Yi with an expression of profound distress.

“Young man, you will not treat my daughter this way!” A voice boomed, accompanied by a figure appearing beside Xuanyuan Bing, who knocked Yang Yi’s sword aside. “You truly cannot kill them today!”

“Hmph, and who are you?” Yang Yi asked, snorting coldly.

“Father!” Xuanyuan Bing cried out in surprise.

“Patriarch Xuanyuan?” Shangguan Qingyun called out, frowning.

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