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墨書 Inktalez
"Let's get to it, leave no one alive," Zhao Yang said.
From the moment he laid eyes on the crowd, he understood that today was a fight to the death. First, he realized these people were here for him. Second, he noticed many others watching from the shadows. Third, and most crucially, these individuals were not under Yuan Lie's control.
They claimed to have been invited by their Ancestor, but everyone knew that those Old Monsters were simply after the Ginseng King. If the Ginseng King lacked its own consciousness and was merely a lifeless entity, Zhao Yang would have consumed it long ago, leaving nothing for anyone else. However, the Ginseng King had cultivated for millennia, gaining intelligence and human-like qualities; it could speak and was kind-hearted. Zhao Yang had come to regard it as a spirit beast like Little Nine, and he could never allow anyone to harm it.
Moreover, even if Zhao Yang handed over the Ginseng King to those so-called Old Monsters who invited him, his fate would likely not be much better. His identity was well-known across the land; those Old Monsters were fully aware that Xuanfo Temple had Four Great Monks stationed there and even knew of Xuanbing Buddha's existence yet still dared to threaten him and seize the Ginseng King. This indicated one thing: they had no fear of Xuanfo Temple.
Zhao Yang understood the fickleness of human nature. Just as he found it hard to believe that someone of equal or lesser rank could defeat him, others would think similarly. He had gained a reputation for being extraordinary in the outside world; other young people would assume he was merely seeking attention and that they lacked a proper platform to showcase their abilities.
Thus, if Zhao Yang surrendered the Ginseng King, even if those Old Monsters did not kill him, these young people would relentlessly pursue him. The reason was simple: he possessed an unimaginable number of Supreme Dao Artifacts. The fearsome reputation of the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords had spread widely; tragically, the Sword Saint had been unable to unleash its true power before being slain by Zhao Yang.
Each of the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords was a Supreme Dao Artifact with unparalleled value. When combined, their power would surpass nearly all Supreme Dao Artifacts, even overshadowing Zhongzhou's first National Treasure, the Hunting Immortal Spear.
However, Zhao Yang was not well-versed in sword techniques; thus, he rarely used them. But just because he didn't use them didn't mean he couldn't. When he seized the Heavenly Harmony Bell, he never asked Heavenly Harmony Ancestor for instructions; instead, he analyzed how to wield it through his Divine Sense. Similarly, he understood the Supreme Sword Formation within the Peerless Killing Sword using his Divine Sense.
"What do you mean by this, Zhao Yang?" one cultivator shouted angrily as they took action. They were top experts from Hidden Gate, far superior to any small sects in the outside world. Today, someone actually threatened to kill them all—five against a thousand—such arrogance!
Whoosh!
A flash of sword light shot through the air as the attacker was cleaved in two by a single strike. The sword energy from the Peerless Killing Sword sliced through his Primordial Infant as well, killing him instantly.
"We've fallen into his trap! It's rumored that the Peerless Killing Sword can form a Supreme Sword Formation!" one cultivator exclaimed loudly, eyes red with fury as they glared at Zhao Yang.
When Zhao Yang took out the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords, it was not to flaunt his collection, but rather because he had already set his mind on killing. He knew these people would relentlessly pursue him; if he didn’t teach them a lesson, they would never let it go. People can be quite shameless; if you show them kindness, they think you're easy to bully, but if you take a strong stance, they will respect you instead.
Zhao Yang did not want to kill, yet he found himself compelled to do so.
Scholar Xiu remained expressionless. He had never doubted Zhao Yang's decisions. Although Song Baliang, Long Xiao Wu, and Nangong Wuxin felt a chill at the thought of killing so many Hidden Gate geniuses—likely half of the Hidden Gate's elite were gathered here—they understood the implications. They were not foolish; having spent time with Zhao Yang, they had absorbed some of his insights into human nature during moments of Enlightenment. They grasped the reasoning behind his actions.
No pity appeared in their eyes. They did not wish to take lives, but when the world sought to kill them, they would repay in blood. To kill a chicken to warn the monkey, to create a river of blood and mountains of corpses was their message to the world: do not dare to bully me.
The Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords had been activated. Under the Supreme Sword Formation, Zhao Yang wielded his powerful True Qi and Mind Control with fluidity. The swords danced within the formation, their light illuminating the starry sky as screams echoed around them. Blood flowed like a river on the scene; Primordial Infants exploded, showering golden liquid everywhere.
Some individuals with unique identities and exceptional cultivation could potentially escape from the Peerless Killing Sword's Supreme Sword Formation. However, with Zhao Yang guarding the perimeter, anyone who managed to break free would undoubtedly meet their end.
“Zhao Yang, you’re finished! By killing us, you’re severing the roots of Hidden Gate’s legacy. The Ancestors will pursue you relentlessly until your family is ruined and everyone around you dies before your eyes, torturing you until your hatred is satisfied,” shouted a young genius who held out until the end within the Supreme Sword Formation.
Zhao Yang looked at him calmly and replied, “Well, that does sound quite frightening. I am indeed a bit scared. So tell me, who is your Ancestor? Where do they live? In three days, I’ll bring my father and master to pay a visit and see just who this person is. Are you brave enough to say?”
“You…” The young genius was filled with rage but dared not reveal his Ancestor’s identity. Even though he knew his Ancestor was formidable, he feared that mentioning it might lead to their demise at Zhao Yang's hands.
“If you’re capable, then fight me!” he shouted in frustration, feeling humiliated by being slaughtered like livestock after twenty years of training as an unparalleled genius without ever losing.
Zhao Yang replied nonchalantly, “Sorry, I don’t have time. Let’s just say I can’t beat you.” His tone was calm; he didn’t care about winning or losing and openly admitted he couldn’t defeat his opponent.
This only added to the other’s frustration; it felt like an insult. What he meant was that even if Zhao Yang couldn’t defeat him, he could still kill him—he was infuriatingly indifferent to life and death.
Then, amidst the anger and terror of the genius, Zhao Yang flicked his fingers, and with a glint of cold light, a head rolled away.
This scene left the cultivators secretly watching in shock and fear. Most of them had killed before and had committed many unspeakable acts. Some had even tortured those who had offended them and had witnessed the elders of their Sect collectively execute disobedient disciples. Yet, they had never seen such a massacre as today.
And this slaughter came from that handsome young man, who did not even furrow his brow, as if killing was not his doing at all. It was as if he believed that slaying these people was only natural, just like how leaves sprout in spring or how the sky brightens in the morning.
The Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords returned to their sheath, vanishing from Zhao Yang's presence.
Zhao Yang scanned the surroundings and spoke in a voice neither loud nor soft: "Listen well, the Ginseng King has already cultivated into a human form and has recognized me as its master. I grant it the right to exist in the Cultivation world. If anyone dares to lay a hand on it or trouble me, then today's fate will be the same as those who have come to challenge me."
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