Chapter Two: Cruel Slaughter

The waning moon hung like a hook, while the stars blazed brilliantly across the sky. Silvery moonlight poured down in great feathery handfuls, draping the mortal world in a tranquil glow, and the entire Yang family estate sank into silence.

Staggering and reeking of wine, Yang Yun lurched drunkenly back to his own quarters. Of the nine children sired by the head of the Yang family, Yang Yun was by far the weakest, having only reached the fifth level of the Body Tempering Realm. There was no deeper reason for this than his obsession with indulgence and women, which had long since hollowed out his strength.

With his features blurred by intoxication, Yang Yun stumbled into his room and collapsed face-first onto the bed. Several young maids came to undress him, but Yang Yun was already sleeping like a dead dog.

As the maids gradually withdrew, Chu Jie, nimble as a spirit-cat, emerged from the shadowed corner and crept to Yang Yun’s bedside.

Chu Jie had poured all his efforts into this night.

All the guards of the Yang household had been summoned to the birthday banquet, leaving the place unwatched—so Chu Jie could slip into Yang Yun’s quarters and wait for him.

Tonight, vengeance would finally be his! The thought set Chu Jie’s blood ablaze.

His expression twisted, Chu Jie seized Yang Yun and smashed a fist into his mouth. The sudden pain jolted Yang Yun awake, but when he tried to struggle upright, he found his body limp, drained of all strength.

“Yang Yun, tonight is the night I claim your miserable life!” Chu Jie’s smile was frigid and cruel. The hatred of a murdered father had burned inside him for two years; tonight, he would finally wash that shame away. His hands shook with anticipation.

Yang Yun, as if he’d just heard something amusing, sneered, “Hah! Chu Jie, don’t forget you’re a good-for-nothing. I, on the other hand, am already at the fifth level of Body Tempering—”

But before he could finish, Yang Yun realized he couldn’t summon a shred of spiritual energy. His face changed instantly. “Chu Jie! What have you done to me?”

A savage grin twisted Chu Jie’s face. “Nothing more than Spirit-Dispelling Incense.”

Yang Yun’s voice sharpened in fury. “Chu Jie! How dare you!”

Chu Jie’s face flashed with scorn. He stepped forward in a blink and smashed his fist into Yang Yun’s face.

“What wouldn’t I dare?”

Without hesitation, he shoved a wad of white cloth into Yang Yun’s mouth, stifling his screams.

Chu Jie sneered, “Why, Master Yang, I’ve reached the fourth level of Body Tempering myself.”

Yang Yun’s eyes widened, staring murderously at Chu Jie, killing intent pouring from his gaze. He had never imagined Chu Jie would dare go this far.

“Look at what I did just to kill you. I spent a year gathering ingredients for that incense. Don’t worry—I promise you’ll enjoy this to the fullest.” Chu Jie’s eyes were as sharp as blades, slashing across Yang Yun’s form.

Sensing the murderous aura radiating from Chu Jie, Yang Yun frantically tried to edge away, his eyes wild with fear and panic.

A sharp slap rang out as Chu Jie struck him again, making Yang Yun’s head swell with pain.

Grabbing Yang Yun by the collar, Chu Jie yanked his head up until their faces were inches apart, his snarl fierce. “Didn’t you once say killing me would be as easy as crushing an ant?”

“Come on, then—kill me!” Fury blazed in Chu Jie’s eyes.

With a resounding crack, Chu Jie smashed his forehead into Yang Yun’s. Yang Yun saw stars, his skull ringing as if struck by a hammer. Blood trickled down Chu Jie’s own brow, distorting his handsome features, making him look all the more terrifying.

“All because of a brothel girl, you beat my father to death! How vicious you are! Tonight, I’ll avenge him!” A short dagger flashed into Chu Jie’s hand.

Now, finally sensing the deadly intent, Yang Yun shook his head in terror, body writhing desperately, eyes pleading for mercy.

Chu Jie snorted. “Oh, I have no intention of letting you die so easily.” His eyes glinted with a murderous chill.

In a flash of silver, the dagger swept through the darkness and plunged between Yang Yun’s legs.

Yang Yun’s eyes bulged in agony, his body curling in on itself, sweat breaking out across his brow.

Blood and pus spilled beneath him—Chu Jie had driven the blade straight through Yang Yun’s manhood.

Slowly, Chu Jie drew out the dagger, his grin grotesque. “How does it feel? Is it as wonderful as you imagined?”

Yang Yun, wracked with pain, slammed his head again and again against the wall, but Chu Jie seized him by the hair.

Three more strokes—three more gouging slices.

With methodical brutality, Chu Jie severed everything beneath Yang Yun’s waist, then used the tip of his dagger to heft the reeking mass and fling it onto Yang Yun’s face.

Yang Yun nearly fainted from shock, but another stinging slap from Chu Jie revived him.

The blade flashed again, carving deep gashes into Yang Yun’s cheeks, fresh blood streaming down.

Slapping his face with the flat of the blade, Chu Jie bent close, hissing, “See now? Even you have days like this, Yang Yun.”

As memories of the bullying he’d endured at Yang Yun’s hands flooded back, Chu Jie’s rage grew fiercer. The dagger plunged into Yang Yun’s knee, shattering the joint. All color drained from Yang Yun’s face as he thrashed helplessly.

Blood and hatred, slaughter and retribution—Chu Jie was almost delirious with excitement, years of pent-up fury fueling his madness.

Another slash, and the remaining knee was destroyed. Only then did Chu Jie feel a measure of relief.

He fixed his gaze on Yang Yun’s eyes, now nearly broken, and said quietly, “I was born free. What right have you to lord over me? For every humiliation, I will seek vengeance.”

With a final flash of steel, Chu Jie split Yang Yun’s face in two, spattering brain and blood across the floor.

A great weight lifted from Chu Jie’s heart—at last, his father’s murder had been avenged. But it was not over yet.

One stab after another, Chu Jie drove the dagger into Yang Yun’s corpse, hacking off strips of flesh, spattering the room with gore.

Blood splashed across the room, the floor slick with crimson.

Yang Yun’s lifeless eyes remained wide, filled with terror and agony.

Still unsatisfied, Chu Jie found a rope, stripped Yang Yun, and hung his body from the ceiling.

He hadn’t expected one of Yang Yun’s maids to come in just then. At the sight of the grisly spectacle, she let out a piercing shriek, “Help! Master Yang Yun has been murdered!”

Her keening scream rang out across the entire Yang family compound.

Chu Jie’s expression changed instantly. With a flick of his wrist, he sent his dagger flying like a shooting star, piercing the maid’s skull.

He turned to flee, but staggered, nearly collapsing. A spark of light flickered at his brow, sending warmth rushing through his limbs. His body went rigid, taut as a dead fish.

“Damn it! Why has my own calamity struck so soon?” he cursed inwardly, a cold sweat breaking out.

His muscles convulsed and trembled, as if thousands of ants were gnawing at his flesh.

“No! I can’t die!” Chu Jie bit through his lip, pain in his skull screaming. He bit his fingertip, fighting to stay conscious.

Gritting his teeth through the agony, he forced himself from the courtyard, seeing firelight flickering not far away and hearing hurried footsteps pounding toward his little courtyard.

Desperation lent Chu Jie strength, and he staggered toward the escape route he’d prepared earlier, pain enveloping him completely.

The firelight grew ever closer. Several guards kicked open the courtyard gate.

Shouts and uproar split the night.

“The rest of you, surround this place! The rest, go in and kill! Kill them all!”