How could this be? The surprise in Glenn’s eyes instantly turned to stark shock, his back breaking out in a cold sweat, every hair standing on end: How was this possible? My punch, forget an ordinary person—even a warhorse hit by it would be knocked to the ground. Even Cage wouldn't dare take my punch without his usual armor, just standing there motionless!

“Is this… your strength?” Qian Jin kept his eyes closed, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “A punch like that? Don’t talk about making me feel pain, it wouldn’t even make me feel a tickle. Too weak, absolutely too weak… You’re not even as good as the most common Centaur beast.”

Glenn felt like he had genuinely seen a wraith in the middle of the night! They were both Demon Slayers, and his own punches had always possessed infinite destructive power. The only way this could be explained was if Qian Jin was wearing a Slayer’s Cuirass to withstand the blow, but he was only wearing the plainest of clothes!

Could it be…? Glenn’s body jolted as if struck by lightning. He pushed off the ground and retreated rapidly, scrutinizing Qian Jin. Could this clothing only look ordinary, but actually be made from the hide of some high-level magical beast? Possessing immense defensive capabilities! Yes! It had to be that!

Screee… The greatsword scraped against its sheath, producing a crisp, metallic friction sound that slowly echoed through the courtyard of the wake hall.

Fabredis stepped out from the rear courtyard, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes keenly tracking Qian Jin. Glenn’s punch was by no means weak; a blow like that aimed at a wooden stake as thick as an arm would surely cause it to shatter. Yet, Qian Jin had shown no reaction whatsoever. This physical defense was bordering on—no, it was outrageously high!

Not just bordering on outrageous, Fabredis softly mused. This was something truly preposterous! But then again, considering his status as a Ninth-War Slayer before even turning nineteen, possessing such absurd defense perhaps made it marginally less shocking.

Glenn’s periphery caught sight of Fabredis’s presence, adding another layer of caution to his brow. He admitted to himself that he felt unsure about facing both JL Demon Slayers.

“Don’t mind me. Tonight, I am merely an audience member,” Fabredis settled comfortably into a chair in the wake hall, raising a hand in an inviting gesture. “Continue. I guarantee that no matter the outcome, I will not intervene.”

Glenn shot a skeptical glance at Fabredis, his focus snapping back to Qian Jin. If he could heavily wound Qian Jin before Fabredis made a move, rendering him incapable of fighting, then facing Fabredis afterward wouldn't be so frightening!

Glenn gripped the hilt of his greatsword tightly with his other hand, raising the blade high above his head. He separated his stance front and back, channeling and urging his Battle Qi to surge upward. The rotational force even caused a faint, stinging pain in his Battle Meridians, manifesting as gentle, water-like ripples flowing across the sword’s surface.

One strike! He only needed one strike! Glenn’s bell-like eyes narrowed into slits. His confidence surged back completely. Relying on the might of this Rank Eight Greatsword—meticulously forged by a master Blacksmith over an entire month—combined with his full Battle Qi, he was sure he could cleave through Qian Jin’s Zabato in a single swing.

Qian Jin’s eyes suddenly snapped open, the light blazing from them like a lightning bolt piercing the black night. His body, previously still as a statue, erupted with an endless tide of killing intent, like a volcanic explosion. The Zabato, channeling Battle Qi and killing intent, hummed, and he propelled his body and the blade forward with a stomp of his left foot.

A surging aura of murderous intent instantly permeated every corner of the wake hall courtyard. Glenn’s narrowed eyes flew wide open. He momentarily felt as if he were standing on a Human-Demon battlefield littered with flashing blades, gore, and severed limbs. That ferocious Zabato seemed like a colossal fiend ready to devour him. The Battle Qi he had mobilized instantly shattered under the pressure of this aura, and the brilliant light of his Battle Qi-infused Rank Eight Greatsword immediately dimmed.

What kind of killing intent was this? What kind of strength was this? Glenn felt like he was facing a ferocious Demon tribe member, armed with a blade and screaming wildly as they charged. His body froze stiffly on the spot. His eyes fixed on the brightest, most brilliant flash of blade light he had ever witnessed. He felt no pain at all, only watching a stream of pungent blood spray from the centerline of his body.

He instinctively looked down to see the source of the blood, only to find that a line was also spurting blood right from the center of his brow. Then, his body cleaved in two, separating sideways.

Such speed? Am I dead? Glenn’s eyes were wide open. He could only see the floorboards where Qian Jin had stood moments before, now crushed into pieces.

Fabredis stared at Qian Jin in stunned silence. That strike he just unleashed was not one of the prescribed forms in the Seven Blood Wars; yet, the instant the cut was delivered, it carried the absolute, forward-pressing, never-retreating, dense, and tragic killing intent characteristic of the entire Seven Blood Wars series.

Qian Jin held the Zabato by the wrist, lightly stroking the blade’s edge, muttering softly, “Blood War, only one style is needed…”

“Seven Styles United?” Fabredis shot to his feet, sighing repeatedly. What was this nonsense? While the Seven Blood Wars did possess an Eighth Style—the Unification of the Seven—the friend who created it had spent years in study to truly merge them. He hadn’t expected this young man to achieve it in less than a single night, even if it still possessed flaws…

Fabredis looked at Qian Jin and began to wonder if he himself was too dull, too untalented, or if Qian Jin’s display was simply too astonishing! The true essence of the Seven Blood Wars should only be gradually grasped by someone who had experienced countless real battles. Qian Jin wasn’t yet nineteen; theoretically, he shouldn't have even set foot on a Human-Demon battlefield. Where did he acquire such battle experience? But that killing intent just now… even a warrior seasoned by a hundred battles on the Human-Demon front lines couldn't match it.

“The Seventh Blood War, First Cut of Blood War,” Qian Jin thought the more he reflected on it; this technique seemed tailor-made for him, demanding exceptional rigor regarding killing intent and one’s mindset when facing death. The two years spent in the Four Seasons Valley and the Endless World, experiencing life and death, were in no way inferior to those of a hundred-battle veteran.

“Forget it.” Fabredis shook his head and turned toward the rear courtyard. “If I keep watching, it will genuinely crush my confidence. Even with the One Hundred and Eight Acupoints Grand Circulation Secret, this is still too incredible.”

Qian Jin raised his hand and returned the Zabato to his Realm. He found some rope in the courtyard and used it to hang the two captured Glenn warriors upside down on a wooden stake in the yard. “Two years,” Qian Jin returned to the coffin, eating the offerings intended for Rollin. “In just two short years, returning to Oakland, everything has changed so much.”

“Tomorrow, with just one day, Oakland will once again be transformed. I eagerly await tomorrow’s arrival.”

A gentle breeze swept past, as if urging the endless night to retreat sooner to welcome the sunrise. All of Oakland slept within the darkness.

The courtyard gate slowly opened inward. Gu Yue Jiaying entered, dressed in the plainest of warrior skirts, holding twin crescent blades. Her movements were like a delicate dance as she walked toward the wake hall. Under the moonlight, her ethereal posture and jade-like complexion were indescribably breathtaking.

Qian Jin rose and nodded lightly, greeting the beauty he hadn't seen in two years. Gu Yue Jiaying slightly bowed her head, performing a salute before Rollin’s coffin, just as Fabredis had done, before walking straight into the rear courtyard.

A gust of cool wind stirred outside the wake hall, causing the white mourning streamers to sway. Clouds once again obscured the bright moon in the night sky.

Qian Jin took out his Zabato and placed it nearby, leaning against the coffin to sleep. Maintaining optimal readiness for battle at all times—this was a crucial lesson learned from his two years in the Four Seasons Valley and the Endless World.

The moon set and the sun rose. The sunlight hadn't yet managed to sweep away the cool remnants of the night from the earth when the clatter of carriage wheels sounded on the street outside the courtyard.

Sabonis alighted from the carriage, briefly straightening his attire, which symbolized his role as the City Lord today. He silently admonished himself to handle this duel with absolute fairness.

The heavy front doors were gently pushed open to either side by the careful hands of the City Lord’s servants, without the aggressive force seen yesterday when the door was broken down.

Sabonis stepped into the courtyard draped with white streamers. The polite smile fixed on his face instantly froze. His eyes stared unblinkingly at the corpses hanging upside down on the wooden stake, already dried and stiff from blood loss.

Glenn! Glenn, the Demon Slayer of the Cage family! The moment Sabonis saw the corpse, his mind cleared instantly, as if a fountain of ice-cold water had been poured directly over his head. He stared in profound shock at Glenn, who was cleaved perfectly in two—a wound so severe that even glue wouldn't bring him back to life.

“Lord City Lord arrives quite early,” Qian Jin stood up and strode forward, pointing at the corpse hanging on the stake. “This Mr. Glenn came here last night with his greatsword, threatening to kill me. In self-defense, I regretfully had to kill him. Mr. Fabredis here can vouch for that.”

“Is that so?” Sabonis raised an eyebrow. “This is truly an unpleasant affair. I hope it won't affect Mr. Qian Jin’s mood or Battle Qi for today’s duel.”

Qian Jin walked alongside Sabonis toward the wake hall. “Thank you for your concern, Lord City Lord. After being forced to kill Mr. Glenn in self-defense, my mood, for some reason, feels significantly better.”

“That is good. I wish Mr. Qian Jin success in today’s duel.”

Sabonis let out two dry chuckles, secretly glancing again at the inverted corpse of Glenn. The astonishment in his heart had not entirely subsided. In all his years as City Lord, he had never encountered such an audacious young man. Killing someone was one thing, but hanging the slain victim upside down to await the arrival of one party in a duel—what kind of hidden trump card and confidence lay beneath such blatant provocation?

Fabredis emerged from the rear courtyard with Gu Yue Jiaying and the others. He nodded slightly to Sabonis in passing, acknowledging the greeting. They all took seats in the place of honor as equals.

With such a body hanging on the stake—one cleaved by a Zabato, its spilled viscera forming a gruesome pile on the ground—the atmosphere in the courtyard was far from relaxed.

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