"Hahaha…"
Huo Jinchuan laughed, his face twisted with endless mockery.
"Huo Yang, even if I die, don't think you'll have a good end! I'll be waiting for you dogs to tear each other apart… waiting for you to come down and keep me company. Hahaha…"
His laughter carried him into tears.
Looking back on his life, he realized he had never once been happy.
He had always been like a puppet, his strings pulled by Huo Yang.
Perhaps death was a kind of release.
But still… he was unwilling!
Utterly unwilling!
A mad glint flared in Huo Jinchuan's eyes. With the last of his strength, he lunged toward Song Wanníng.
If he was going to explode himself, he would drag at least one person down with him.
But in the next instant, Song Wanníng's sword swept out.
Her Domain erupted, freezing his movements. Huo Jinchuan found himself trapped in a strange and terrifying place. It was not Huo Yang. It was not Song Wanníng. It was not the people he had killed.
Instead, it was the faces of his family, friends, and colleagues from his previous life…
Their endless ridicule, the crushing disappointment in his parents' eyes… those had planted shadows in his heart long before he ever came to this world. Here, too, he had never known love—only endless schemes. His chest filled with bitter despair. His life felt like a cruel joke. They all owed him. Every single one of them owed him!
Boom!
Sword light flashed. Huo Jinchuan's head was severed cleanly from his neck.
Song Wanníng's eyes darkened. She was about to destroy his Yuányīng when Huo Yang, eyes blazing with fury, stormed forward and kicked the fallen head.
A sickening crack sounded.
Blood mist and brain matter splattered into the dirt.
Huo Jinchuan's Yuányīng vanished along with it.
Silence fell over the ravine. Dozens of cultivators stared at Huo Yang in shock.
After all, no matter how much hatred there was, Huo Jinchuan was still his own son. Even if he had to kill him, he should have left an intact corpse. The hatred required to destroy him so completely was staggering. Perhaps Huo Jinchuan had spoken the truth—Huo Yang had only ever been pretending.
Huo Yang, unconcerned with their stares, darted forward and snatched Huo Jinchuan's storage ring. But when he opened it, there wasn't a trace of treasure inside.
Song Wanníng was momentarily startled by his ruthlessness. She had not expected Huo Yang to stop hiding his true face so soon.
Without exchanging a word, she and Baili Shang struck at him together.
Huo Yang's spiritual power was already in chaos, and now, faced with both of them at once, he could not hold his ground.
The surrounding cultivators glanced at one another, then quickly backed away. None of them wanted to get involved—everyone knew Song Wanníng's trump card. No one was willing to lose hundreds of years of their lifespan for no reason.
Elder Murong least of all. Huo Jinchuan had killed members of the Murong family, and even the city lord who had pursued him had vanished, likely dying at his hands as well. Murong would have to be a fool to step in now.
So, despite the dozens of cultivators present at the bottom of the cliff, not a single person moved to help Huo Yang.
Song Wanníng welcomed it. She only pressed her attack harder.
"Poof!"
Huo Yang was soon injured, coughing up blood in quick succession. Each time he tried to strike back, his spiritual power failed him. He was holding on only through the toughness of his body and the use of a few precious artifacts.
In his heart, his hatred for Huo Jinchuan burned hotter than ever. The strange instability in his body made his shock even greater. What kind of vicious trick had been used on him, that his spiritual power would keep slipping out of control?
And yet, whenever he recovered, there was no trace of the problem to be found. Infuriating!
Boom!
The battle in the ravine grew fiercer. Song Wanníng and Baili Shang pressed him hard, forcing him onto the defensive. His body was covered in wounds. Within moments, his hair hung loose and tangled, half covering his blood-streaked face.
Suddenly, Song Wanníng's will moved, and a shimmering Time Talisman appeared in the air.
The surrounding cultivators felt their skin crawl, their eyes widening at the sight of it.
"Go!" she commanded sharply.
The talisman shot toward Huo Yang.
He tried to roll away, but it moved too quickly. The glowing rune enveloped him before he could escape. Before the stunned eyes of everyone present, Huo Yang's lifespan dropped by five hundred years in an instant.
As a Unity stage cultivator, his natural lifespan stretched over thousands of years, so the loss only made him look slightly older—nothing like the dramatic decay of the earlier Divine Soul stage cultivator.
But the change to his true age was real, and the crowd erupted in a fresh uproar. Even knowing the talisman's power, many still looked at Song Wanníng with new fear. Elder Murong's heart pounded, his eyes growing brighter and brighter. Such an exceptional junior… one in ten thousand.
No—one in a hundred thousand.
His expression shifted. Without hesitation, he joined the battle, striking at Huo Yang while calling out, "Huo Yang, stop resisting! Come with me back to the Murong family and explain yourself!"
No one believed the excuse.
If Elder Murong had wanted to capture Huo Yang, he could have acted long ago. It was obvious—he simply wanted to help Song Wanníng.
Huo Yang understood that perfectly, his rage threatening to boil over.
"You're not afraid of the Huo family's revenge?" he shouted, staggering under their combined assault.
Elder Murong only snorted coldly. "The Huo family's revenge? You should be worrying about how you'll face the Murong family's retaliation."
Then a sly smile curved his lips. "You don't know yet, do you? The Huo family has already abandoned you as patriarch. The new patriarch has taken your place. You think they'll avenge you against the Murong family? Dream on. Hahaha…"
The two had been enemies for many years. Seeing Huo Yang's fortunes collapse so quickly filled Elder Murong with unrestrained satisfaction.
"What did you say?"
Huo Yang's shock made his guard falter. Baili Shang's blade came down, slicing off half his shoulder. Bone gleamed through the shredded flesh, blood pouring down his side. Yet Huo Yang didn't seem to feel it. He only stared at Elder Murong.
"Why would I lie? Your Ancestor himself decreed it. You've only yourself to blame for raising such a fine son." Elder Murong's tone dripped with scorn. Had Huo Yang raised Huo Jinchuan properly, things might not have come to this.
He had only trapped himself in his own web.
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible!"
Huo Yang's composure finally cracked. For centuries he had poured his heart into the Huo family. Even if they wanted to replace him, they should have consulted him first.
To decide behind his back—and not even tell him—
They had turned him into a living joke.
Huo Yang's teeth ground together.
Under the assault of three opponents, he coughed blood again and again, yet still managed to pull a certain artifact from his sleeve.