Chapter Forty-Five: It Will Hurt a Little, Bear With It

The members of the Lu family looked as if they had seen a ghost; none of them had seen where that sword had come from! It had pierced straight through the chest of their leader, appearing suddenly from behind.

"You… you killed our big brother!"

"Who are you, really?"

Frightened, the Lu family members stumbled backward. The strongest among them had just been that leader in the ninth tier of the Body Refining Realm. The other ninth-tier cultivator had already been ambushed and killed by Mu Yanran. Yet, their big brother hadn't even managed to withstand a single attack before collapsing right here!

This white-haired youth was even more formidable than Mu Yanran, who had reached the Spirit Gathering Realm. At least when Mu Yanran struck, they could see her movements, but this white-haired youth acted without sound or warning—each move meant instant death!

As for the dancing iron sword, it hardly looked like any legendary weapon. Could it move on its own? No matter what, they refused to believe it. It must have been the white-haired youth's doing!

"What a powerful elder! What was that technique just now? I've never heard of such a thing—a sword moving on its own, without anyone wielding it!" Mu Yanran stared dumbfounded at Ye Wuyia, who remained calm amidst the chaos.

Ye Wuyia watched the astonished crowd, beckoned with his palm, and the circling iron sword flew straight to him, landing in his hand.

Examining the sword, which looked no different than before, he mused, "I suppose I've mastered this sword technique? The description says: 'Where the mind goes, the sword follows.' Yet, something about it feels odd…"

The sword technique Ye Wuyia had obtained was incomplete. For years, he had trained blindly, unaware that there was a further line: "Born from emotion, the sword's intent condenses."

Ye Wuyia's eyes flashed with murderous intent as he gazed at the trembling Lu family members before him. They had witnessed his secret technique—he could not let them leave alive. This was his hidden trump card; if too many knew of it, it would cease to be a secret.

Thus, all of them had to die.

Reciting the incantation silently, he pointed a finger. The sword hovering before Ye Wuyia shot forth with a sharp whistle, slicing across a Lu family guard's neck. A cold flash, and a spray of blood erupted!

Blood gushed wildly, splattering onto the face of the nearby guard.

Before that guard could react, the sword arced back, piercing through another Lu family guard who was already paralyzed with fear.

Within a few breaths, counting the burly leader who Ye Wuyia had ambushed earlier, three Lu family guards had already fallen beneath Ye Wuyia's sword.

Ye Wuyia turned to the remaining five dumbstruck guards.

"Brothers, be careful! Watch his sword!" one guard, snapping out of his shock, shouted as two more comrades collapsed.

The iron sword flew toward the shouting guard, who quickly noticed Ye Wuyia's weakness: his sword could only fly straight, not along curves. This allowed him to temporarily preserve his life.

The guard, relying on instinct, sidestepped left and swung his blade, but missed the flying sword entirely.

The sword halted about three meters away, then slowly turned and flew at him again.

Once more, the guard dodged sideways, avoiding Ye Wuyia's sword.

Watching the guard dodge again and again, Ye Wuyia inexplicably felt his mood sour, as if something momentous was about to occur.

Meanwhile, in Ling City—

The sounds of slaughter thundered through the night, the stench of blood thick in the air.

"Kill!"

"Kill them!"

"I'll cut you down!"

The Ye and Lu-Mu families had clashed, fighting with mad fury.

Ye Ru Yue and Ye Ru Xue, both clad in fitted battle attire, their figures accentuated, stood back to back. Their once-white garments were now stained crimson with blood.

"Sister, what do we do? We're surrounded!" Ye Ru Xue stabbed her sword through a Lu family member rushing at her and cried out.

Ye Ru Yue had already pierced the chest of the Mu family opponent before her. Cold-faced, she drew her sword out, pushed the foe aside, and he collapsed instantly.

Back to back, Ye Ru Yue said coldly, "Don't panic. The people from Qingfeng Village should be here soon. We just need to hold on a little longer."

"Well, well! Who would have guessed—two beautiful women, yet so ruthless! Let me see what you're made of!" A middle-aged man, gaunt and monkey-like, grinned lewdly, pushing aside those around him with an air of mockery as he approached.

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"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!" Six layers of protective spiritual energy emerged around the lecherous middle-aged man.

"Sister, he's a master of the sixth tier, but I've never seen him before. He doesn't seem to belong to either the Lu or Mu families! Where has the Lu family found so many experts…"

Ye family’s rear mountain—

Ever since Mu Yanran had pulled him out, Ye Wuyia no longer felt his spiritual energy dispersing. He could once again borrow the power of the ice spirit.

Watching the guard who kept dodging the flying sword, Ye Wuyia suddenly charged forward while the guard’s attention was fixed on the sword. In a flash, he channeled spiritual energy into his palm and struck the guard’s chest with a powerful blow.

The guard was sent flying backward, vomiting mouthfuls of blood in midair, and landed with a heavy thud, rolling twice on the ground.

With a gasp, he spat out another mouthful of black blood, staring blankly at Ye Wuyia.

His legs kicked, his eyes rolled back.

He lay motionless, his chest sunken, broken ribs protruding from his back.

"This…"

The four remaining guards looked at one another, terror evident in their eyes.

One sword, one palm.

Just a single sword strike, a single palm!

They had taken down the two strongest among them in mere moments!

"Terrifying!"

Fear now ruled their hearts completely.

With a clatter, one of the four remaining guards dropped his weapon.

He knelt with a thud, begging, "Spare me, elder, spare me!"

The other three guards, weapons discarded, also knelt and pleaded for mercy.

In the silent night, under the moonlight, four men in Lu family attire kowtowed repeatedly before the white-haired youth.

Catching the returning iron sword, Ye Wuyia strode forward step by step.

"Please don’t kill me, elder, spare me!"

One sword.

Death.

Seeing another guard begging, Ye Wuyia stabbed again.

Death.

Then two more swords in quick succession.

He finished off all the Lu family men.

Throughout, Ye Wuyia’s face remained cold and unmoved. He knew if he had fallen into their hands, no amount of pleading would save him—they would kill him without hesitation.

They had witnessed his trump card; he could not allow word to spread.

The law of the jungle was the only rule in this world.

If you are strong, you stand above all, untouchable.

If you are weak, you’re a dog, wagging your tail and begging to survive.

Mercy is nothing but a gift the strong bestow upon the weak.

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But Ye Wuyia did not want mercy; he wanted them silenced forever.

Whose mouth is the hardest to pry open?

Undoubtedly, one who cannot speak.

A dead man.

The mouth is truly sealed.

Turning, Ye Wuyia looked toward the dazed young girl. With blood still dripping from his sword, he walked toward her step by step.

"E-elder, you…" Mu Yanran, frightened by Ye Wuyia's demeanor, hurriedly retreated.

She slipped and fell to the ground with a thud.

Ye Wuyia approached, reversed his grip on the sword, and threw it down beside Mu Yanran.

Seeing his movement, Mu Yanran closed her eyes in despair, thinking, "Is he going to kill me to keep his secret?"

But no pain came.

A tearing sound echoed.

Mu Yanran felt a chill on her arm, then pain as the wound was disturbed.

Opening her eyes, she saw Ye Wuyia carefully cleaning her arm wound.

"Foolish girl, don’t you know such a big wound needs tending? If it scars, what will you do?" Ye Wuyia said seriously.

He used ice spiritual energy to press on her wound, easing the pain.

Mu Yanran gazed quietly at Ye Wuyia. Hearing his words, the taut strings of her heart, stretched for years, seemed suddenly touched.

Crystal tears rolled down Mu Yanran's cheeks, falling onto Ye Wuyia’s hand.

"What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?" Ye Wuyia asked softly.

"No, elder, I just remembered something sad," Mu Yanran choked.

"Ever since my mother died, no one has cared about me—whether I was hungry, cold, or in pain. Since she passed, you are the first to show me any concern," Mu Yanran said.

"So you were moved to tears?" Ye Wuyia asked.

"Yes," Mu Yanran nodded.

Ye Wuyia gently patted her head, murmuring, "Silly girl."

After a while, Ye Wuyia stood and said, "The wound is taken care of. Do you have any medicine?"

Mu Yanran shook her head.

"Wait for me." With that, Ye Wuyia dashed out. After being buried here for two days, he had not been idle; besides practicing his sword technique, he had memorized every plant and tree nearby.

Even with night falling, by the faint moonlight, Ye Wuyia quickly found several medicinal herbs and returned to Mu Yanran.

Back on Earth, whenever Ye Wuyia excavated tombs, he often faced danger, so he had studied herbs and checked information online. Once, bitten by a venomous snake in a tomb, he had been lucky enough to stumble upon realgar grass and other herbs that suppressed the venom until he reached the hospital.

"Elder, what are these?" Mu Yanran asked curiously as Ye Wuyia returned with several herbs.

"These will prevent infection and speed up healing," Ye Wuyia explained, popping some herbs into his mouth and chewing them.

"So bitter!" Ye Wuyia made a face as if he had eaten durian, making Mu Yanran laugh behind her hand.

After chewing, Ye Wuyia spat the paste into his palm and said, "It’ll sting a bit. Bear with it."

"Go ahead, elder. I won’t cry out."

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