8mi Chapter 71 Killing a martial artist at the early stage of the Innate Realm increases lifespan by 113
Chapter 71 Killing a martial artist at the early stage of the Innate Realm increases lifespan by 113
Chapter 71 Killing a martial artist at the early stage of the Innate Realm increases lifespan by 113 years!
Zhang Jian's only remaining left hand gripped a short dagger, which gleamed with a cold and resolute light in the firelight.
His bloodshot eyes were fixed on Qin Hu, who was pinned to the ground.
There was no angry roar in his eyes, only a deathly silence like that before a volcanic eruption.
He stepped forward, each step landing on Qin Hu's heartbeat, which was filled with despair.
Without a word, Zhang Jian suddenly bent down, his left hand holding a dagger, filled with long-suppressed blood feud and humiliation, and plunged it viciously into Qin Hu's thigh!
"Ugh—!"
Qin Hu let out a shrill, distorted scream, his body convulsing violently like a fish out of water.
But this is just the beginning.
Zhang Shi was the second to pounce. This former beggar's eyes were filled with deep-seated hatred and a hint of suppressed madness. Without hesitation, he plunged the short knife in his hand into Qin Hu's ribs! Blood splattered!
"Spare me—spare me—Young Master Zhang! Master Zhang! I was wrong! I'll return the knife to you! Double the silver! No, ten times! A hundred times!"
Tears streamed down Qin Hu's face, his voice distorted by pain and fear. He futilely twisted his nailed body, howling and begging for mercy in Zhang Yuan's direction.
Zhang Yuan seemed not to hear.
He calmly walked to the side, bent down, and accurately picked up the simple-looking, worn-out long sword from the scattered goods and pool of blood.
It feels slightly heavy when you hold it, and you get that familiar tactile sensation.
Those things belonged to the Zhang family, and they seemed to still retain the scent of the wind and sand from the northern frontier that their father had traveled to.
He gripped the hilt of his knife, his gaze returning to the arena.
Zhang Jiumei, Zhang Zhu, Zhang Liang — one after another.
They didn't harbor the same deep hatred as Zhang Jian, but they still had the same blood debt to repay.
Short knives, daggers, and even sharpened wooden sticks, filled with the anger and sorrow of the boys and girls, were stabbed furiously at the convulsing, wailing body on the ground.
"Pfft!"
"Ugh—!"
"Spare me!"
"Pfft!"
"Brother Xiangyang—!"
"demon!"
"Pfft!"
"Father, Mother—I've avenged you—"
Each thrust was accompanied by Qin Hu's inhuman screams and desperate pleas for mercy, and each withdrawal brought forth a spray of warm blood.
On the pier, only the cruel execution music and Qin Hu's increasingly faint breathing, until finally only hoarse gasps remained.
His body was riddled with holes, blood stained large sections of the wooden planks beneath him, his eyes were completely vacant, and only the instinctive twitching of dying remained.
Zhang Yuan gripped his long sword, walked up to Qin Hu, and looked down at the almost unrecognizable mutilated body.
Qin Hu seemed to sense the approach of death, letting out a last, faint moan, his eyes filled with extreme fear.
"laugh--!"
The long sword was drawn, and a clear dragon's roar drowned out the clamor of the dock!
The blade flashed like a bolt of lightning, carrying a cold and resolute killing intent. To everyone's astonishment, it precisely sliced across Qin Hu's neck!
A huge head, with an expression of disbelief and terror, rolled and landed on the ground.
【Ding! 】
[Slaying a martial artist at the early stage of the Innate Realm increases lifespan by 113 years!]
A cold yet grand prompt roared in Zhang Yuan's mind. A powerful warm current, far exceeding anything before, instantly surged through his entire body, as if parched earth had received sweet rain. Every cell was cheering and jumping for joy, and his sense of power was more abundant than ever before!
His blood and qi surged like a mighty river, and the barrier of the early stage of the Acquired Realm instantly loosened and collapsed under the impact of this immense force!
Mid-stage of the Acquired Realm!
Zhang Yuan took a deep breath, suppressing the surging power within his body and the strange sensations brought about by the sudden increase in his lifespan.
He bent down and grabbed the still-bleeding, hideous head with his left hand, the disheveled hair tangled between his fingers.
He held the long sword, now returned to its rightful owner and gleaming with a cold light, in his right hand. The tip of the sword pointed diagonally at the ground, and drops of blood slowly dripped down the blade.
He didn't glance again at the headless corpses and the chaotic battlefield at the dock. He turned around and, step by step, walked steadily towards Tingtao Pavilion, treading through pools of blood and flames.
Clad in blood-stained hemp clothing, carrying a knife and a severed head, his small, thin figure emanated a chilling, malevolent aura amidst the flickering firelight.
"Good! Good! Good lad!!" Behind the warehouse, Wang Quanfu's fat jiggled with excitement. He slapped his thigh hard, his face a mixture of ecstasy and relief. "He's my own nephew! He's got guts! Absolutely guts!"
He watched Zhang Yuan walk away with his head down, his eyes filled with pride and lingering fear.
In the waterside pavilion, Li Decai clapped his hands and laughed heartily, his laughter echoing across the now-silent river: "Hahaha! Good! Decisive in killing, clear in distinguishing between gratitude and resentment! From this day forward, who in Fengming County won't know Zhang Qingyang?! Exhilarating! Truly exhilarating!"
His eyes gleamed, and his evaluation of Zhang Yuan had reached a whole new level.
He made the right bet.
The attic was already deathly silent.
All the previous contempt, doubt, and schadenfreude have now transformed into a complex mix of unspoken shock, fear, and disbelief.
"He—he really killed Qin Hu—and beheaded him—"
"Eight years old — an eight-year-old child — carrying his head —"
"Those veterans—that battle formation—that ruthlessness—were they even human, or—?"
"The Guzhu Gang—former members of the Zhang family—he actually managed to mobilize such power—"
"The Wang family has lost face big time this time."
Whispers rose in trembling voices, and everyone's expression was incredibly complex.
Chen Zijing, Fang Jingsong, and the others looked solemn, their eyes filled with deep apprehension as they gazed at Zhang Yuan.
Li Jintang loosened his clenched fist, his palms sweating. Looking at Zhang Yuan's figure, his eyes held a complex and unfathomable light, a mixture of amazement and hidden worry.
Xiao Yang remained silent, but his gaze followed closely to the blood-stained figure. His tightly pursed lips moved slightly, as if silently uttering, "Madman—".
Zhang Yuan's figure finally appeared below the attic.
Without pausing, he walked up the stairs step by step.
"Thump!"
Qin Hu's head, with its eyes wide open and covered in blood, was carelessly tossed by Zhang Yuan onto the clean floor in the center of the attic, like trash. It rolled a few times before coming to rest at Wang Chengyu's feet.
Those wide-open eyes, filled with horror and pain, were staring at Wang Chengyu.
The entire attic was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone held their breath, their eyes darting back and forth between Zhang Yuan, Wang Chengyu, and the head.
Zhang Yuan, holding a blood-dripping longsword, his gaze as sharp as an icy blade, pierced directly at the pale-faced Wang Chengyu. His voice was calm without a trace of emotion, yet carried an immense weight: "How is it?"
Wang Chengyu shuddered violently, his face turning deathly pale.
He instinctively took a half step back, his lips trembling violently. Looking at the horrifying head at his feet, and then at the blood-soaked, demon-like child before him, a chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. His teeth chattered, and he couldn't utter a single word.
Where was the trace of his previous arrogance and contempt on his face?
All that remained was a deep-seated fear!
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