"Manyun!"
Seeing the mangled lump of flesh left on the ground, the middle-aged man’s face twisted with horror as he cried out.
But his Manyun would never answer him again.
"Brought it on themselves."
Evan Lin looked on with utter disdain.
Zuo He’s face went ashen. "Kill him!"
Drake Huang stood rooted in place, fists clenched tight, his eyes turning cold and predatory as he fixed his beast-like gaze on Evan Lin.
"I don’t care what trick you used to break my Soul-Locking Chain. Today, you die!"
"You haven’t even stepped into the Vajra Realm. How could you possibly be my match!"
Drake Huang roared, refusing to accept the reality unfolding before his eyes.
He’d spent over a decade comprehending and refining the Soul-Locking Chain technique, condensing his inner strength into this move—only for it to be shattered so easily!
Drake Huang clenched his fists, suddenly crouched, and slammed a punch into the ground.
As his fist struck, dust erupted across the floor. Drake’s figure flashed like lightning through the swirling cloud, his meridians crackling with explosive sound.
Drake’s silhouette shot forward, eyes wide. Fierce tornadoes of force completely enveloped him, and every table and chair in the hall crashed to the ground.
He was going to smash Evan Lin’s head with a single punch!
Drake Huang’s eyes glinted with icy light.
"No matter what tricks you have, in front of absolute power, you’re just a joke!"
Drake Huang howled, his aura surging like a dragon.
From a distance, the scene in midair looked just like a raging sandstorm.
"Beyond the divine wind lies immortal earth; between yin and yang, fingers form a blade!"
Evan Lin stood with one hand behind his back, expression indifferent, watching Drake Huang charge straight at him while silently reciting an incantation.
Inside his body, true qi boiled. Within a ten-meter radius around Evan, the wind began to rise.
Unlike Drake Huang’s wind, Evan’s was gentle and refined.
That wind twined around Evan’s fingertips, slowly condensing into a three-foot sword.
The sword was almost transparent, its edge glittering like starlight.
Evan Lin slowly raised his head and spoke softly: "I have a sword. It can cut you down."
"Die!"
Drake Huang roared, now right in front of Evan. His skin had turned a coppery blue, as if cast from metal.
His fist arrived.
Evan Lin calmly gripped the three-foot sword at his fingertips, unmoving, and at the very moment Drake reached him, slowly lifted his hand.
The white three-foot sword struck the tip of Drake Huang’s fist.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze.
The next second.
The air exploded.
Three support pillars in the villa’s main hall collapsed with a crash.
The three-foot sword sliced through Drake Huang’s fist as if it were rotten wood.
Then his arm, his head, his chest—finally, his whole body was split in two.
Drake Huang’s body was severed into two halves, collapsing to the ground, utterly lifeless.
As the dust settled, Zuo He and the middle-aged man coughed. When they looked up, they saw Evan Lin standing alone amid the ruins.
"W—Where’s Mr. Huang?"
Zuo He didn’t spot Drake Huang at first and asked instinctively.
"Th—There!"
The middle-aged man’s voice trembled as he glanced at the corner, where Drake Huang lay split in two. He couldn’t stop shaking, his voice quivering.
With their greatest support gone, they were now just lambs awaiting slaughter.
"Do you submit?"
Evan Lin’s gaze was icy, his face slightly pale. Black hair fluttered in the wind as he stood like a demon god, eyes cold as he stared at the two men.
Zuo He’s aged face twisted through a dozen expressions before he suddenly knelt with a thud. "It was my Zuo family’s blindness—please, young master, spare us!"
"If you ever need anything from the Zuo family, just say the word!"
All of Zuo He’s former pride as patriarch was gone; now he was nothing but a beaten dog.
"Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!"
The middle-aged man also dropped to his knees, face deathly pale, kowtowing to Evan Lin over and over.
"I need you to do two things for me."
Evan Lin’s gaze was indifferent: "Do them well and I’ll consider sparing you. Fail, and you die."
"P—Please tell us!"
Hearing a chance to live, hope flickered on Zuo He and the middle-aged man’s faces as they gazed at Evan Lin with desperate longing.
"First, find me medicinal herbs over a hundred years old—the more, the better. You have three days to bring at least ten stalks. Can you do it?" Evan Lin swept his gaze across them.
Zuo He nodded frantically: "Our Zuo family does regular business with the Jared Qian Auction—they should have century-old herbs. Yes, yes, we can do it!"
"Second, find me a person."
Evan Lin’s tone was calm as he looked at Zuo He.
"W—Who is it?"
Zuo He swallowed hard, intimidated by Evan Lin’s gaze.
"At the Jared Qian Auction, they sold divine medicine and blood jade stolen from an ancient tomb. Do you know about it?"
Evan Lin asked calmly.
Zuo He pondered for a moment, then nervously asked, "You mean the items auctioned a few days ago?"
"Yes."
"I can ask Jared Qian in person. Are you looking for the person who won those items?"
Zuo He still didn’t know that Evan Lin had already intercepted the divine medicine from Medicine King Valley.
"I want the person who consigned the items—find the ancient tomb. If you accomplish these two tasks, I’ll spare your lives. Fail, and I’ll return for you."
Evan Lin’s expression was cold as he looked at Zuo He: "One week. If I don’t get what I want, you’ll all die."
"Y-Yes, yes!"
Zuo He and the middle-aged man knelt, kowtowing repeatedly.
Evan Lin walked to the corner, hoisted the unconscious Liu Luran onto his shoulder, put one hand on his hip, yawned, and left the Zuo family home.
As soon as Evan Lin left...
Surveying the blood-soaked hall, Zuo He’s legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor.
"Dad! Are we really going to do as he says? Man Yun and Si Wen can’t die in vain!"
The middle-aged man looked grief-stricken, voice choked with emotion.
"Don’t panic!"
Zuo He snapped, took a deep breath, and stared at the empty villa entrance. "Even Drake Huang couldn’t beat him—what else can we do now?"
"Do as he says for now. When Drake Huang’s master, Mo Yang, comes out of seclusion, then we’ll take our revenge!"
Zuo He gritted his teeth, face dark: "The Zuo family won’t be wiped out by some punk!"
"Zuo Shan, go to Jared Qian and gather the century-old herbs he wants. I’ll find Jared Qian Zhide and get info on the consignor!"
Zuo He forced himself to ignore his discomfort, surrounded by severed limbs and carnage that pushed anyone’s limits.
"Alright!"
Zuo Shan gritted his teeth, helped Zuo He up, then glanced at Zuo Siwen’s coffin and murmured, "Son, I’ve failed you. For now, you’ll have to wait—when Mo Yang emerges, I’ll avenge you."