Chapter 710: Tearing Off the Mask, Not Qualified Enough
Above the Ten-Thousand Armament Golden Platform, a breathtaking woman slowly emerged, her presence captivating all eyes.
Her beauty was unmatched, but her face at this moment was twisted in fury, pale as ice and sharp as death. She wore a crimson form-fitting robe, its fine craftsmanship tracing every curve of her alluring figure with dangerous precision.
Her long, snow-white legs shimmered beneath the hem of her robe, her waist bound tightly by a silver sash that emphasized her graceful yet deadly posture. Everything about her exuded a heady mix of seduction and menace—each glance from her bewitching peach-blossom eyes seemed to stir a primal heat within any who looked too long.
This woman was none other than Gongshu Ziran, daughter of Gongshu Qiu.
At this moment, however, the seductress was gone—replaced by a vengeful spirit cloaked in crimson rage.
As her sudden appearance silenced the arena, confusion rippled through the crowd.
Many whispered among themselves. Gongshu Qiu's death had been of his own making—Mo Yu had clearly spared him once, only for the man to attempt a cowardly strike from behind. That he had perished in turn was simply justice.
Still, few dared to voice this truth aloud, mindful of the Gongshu Family's influence. But the arrival of Gongshu Ziran, the woman rumored to be the beloved consort of the Blood-Robe Elder from the Blood God Clan, shifted the balance completely.
And she had witnessed her father's death with her own eyes.
Anticipation filled the air—none doubted the fiery scene that would follow. The Blood God Clan was vast and merciless. For Mo Yu to have slain one of their allies meant trouble of the highest order.
"Father!"
Gongshu Zan rushed onto the platform, kneeling beside his father's lifeless body. His grief quickly twisted into hatred as he glared at Mo Yu, his eyes red with rage.
"No matter who you are, the Gongshu Family will see you destroyed!"
His voice rang dark and venomous, silencing the spectators.
Mo Yu's expression remained calm. "If that's how you see it, then tell me—when your father attempted to strike me from behind, should I have simply stood there and died? Had I not reacted, I would be the one lying there in his place."
"I don't care!" Gongshu Zan snarled. "You killed my father. That's a blood feud that can only be paid with your life!"
Mo Yu's lips curved slightly.
Seeing that faint smirk only infuriated Gongshu Zan further. Desperate, he turned upward toward the crimson figure in the sky and dropped heavily to his knees.
"Sister! Please! Avenge our father!"
The red-robed beauty landed beside Gongshu Qiu's body, kneeling briefly to touch his cold face. Her delicate hand gently closed his eyes before she stood, eyes blazing with venom.
"Don't worry, brother," Gongshu Ziran said in a voice that pierced like ice. "Father's death will not go unpunished. Whoever dares harm my family will die without a grave."
Every word dripped with hatred.
To Gongshu Ziran, this duel had been meant to secure the Gongshu Family's dominance. It was the culmination of decades of scheming—a plan she herself had sacrificed her pride for by marrying a man she despised: Blood-Robe Elder of the Blood God Clan.
Today should have been the moment of triumph when their ambitions were finally realized. Instead, she returned home to witness her father being slain before her eyes.
Her sacrifices—for nothing. Her humiliation—for nothing.
All that remained now was vengeance.
The will to kill consumed her entire being.
At that moment, Yuchang Yuan arrived at Mo Yu's side, joined by the Yuchang Family elders.
"Ziran niece, there's a misunderstanding," Yuchang Yuan said, raising his hands slowly.
"Your father already conceded the duel. Yet before everyone's eyes, he attempted to strike Mr. Mo Yu in secret. It was his own act that led to his demise. Such was fate on the dueling platform—life and death are left to heaven. Please, calm yourself."
Yuchang Yuan's voice was earnest, hoping reason would prevail, but he knew well enough the futility of appealing to an enraged daughter's logic.
Gongshu Ziran's beautiful face twisted further, her eyes freezing over with killing intent.
"I don't care what excuses you make! He killed my father—your Yuchang Family will pay as well! Don't think a few words can save you. Will you truly go to war with my Gongshu Family for the sake of an outsider?"
Yuchang Yuan's expression hardened. His voice boomed like iron through the silence.
"Mr. Mo Yu was invited to help our family. If we were to abandon him now, what ally would ever trust the Yuchang Family again? If you want war, then know this—we will stand by him!"
He turned toward the crowd and raised his voice even higher.
"From this day forth, the Yuchang Family welcomes a new Supreme Elder—Mr. Mo Yu!"
Cheers erupted around the platform. Even those who had come simply to spectate were stirred by Yuchang Yuan's resolve.
Gongshu Ziran's face grew uglier with each word. The Yuchang patriarch's open defiance left her fuming, though she knew he was right—their side had provoked the battle and lost. They had no ground to claim righteousness.
Still, she would not let the matter go. "Sister…" Gongshu Zan murmured, but she silenced him with a swift glance.
Her gaze turned upward to the Blood God Clan elder seated among the guests. "Elder Yun," she called darkly, "my father was slain before your eyes. What does the Blood God Clan have to say about this?"
The crowd followed her gaze toward the blood-robed old man, who remained terrifyingly calm. His very silence radiated authority.
It was clear—this was a high-ranking emissary of the Blood God Clan, one of the Four Great Clans of the Western Heaven Realm. Even Yuchang Yuan's face paled slightly. He could oppose the Gongshu Family, but the Blood God Clan was far beyond his power.
"Impressive," came the elder's voice at last.
He appeared on the platform as though emerging from shadow, his mere presence exerting suffocating pressure.
"Blood God Clan…" Yuchang Yuan murmured, bowing deeply.
"May I ask your name, milord?"
"I am Blood Cloud," the elder replied casually. "Under Elder Blood-Robe's command."
Blood Cloud—the name alone sent ripples through the crowd. A Ninth-Grade Supreme, known across the Western Heaven Realm as the strongest under the Blood-Robe Elder himself.
Yuchang Yuan forced a strained smile. "So it is indeed you, Lord Blood Cloud. Your reputation precedes you."
He hesitated, then said carefully, "This matter began as a duel. Yes, Mr. Mo Yu may have struck too hard, but accidents are not unheard of in battle."
Blood Cloud waved a hand, cutting him off. His gaze slid to Mo Yu, unreadable yet dangerous.
"I care little for the reasons behind this—Gongshu Qiu's death matters less to me than who he was to Lady Ziran. For that alone, I must intervene. Mr. Mo Yu, you will accompany me to the Blood God Clan. There you may beg Elder Blood-Robe's forgiveness. Do that, and perhaps this unfortunate affair will end there."
The old man's tone was calm, but every word pulsed with threat.
Mo Yu, however, only raised an eyebrow.
"So… you'd like me to go crawling to your clan? I'm afraid I don't have the time."
For an instant, the audience seemed frozen in disbelief.
Had he just refused the Blood God Clan?
Blood Cloud's face darkened visibly. Though he had offered Mo Yu a chance out of respect for his strength, the young man's blatant disregard struck him as insolence.
Killing a man under the clan's protection was an assault on the Blood God Clan's dignity—and this youth dared meet his words with indifference?
Gongshu Ziran's lips curled in a venomous smile. "Elder Yun, you see? He mocks you! He mocks the Blood God Clan! I say you end him here and now!"
The elder frowned slightly. "Are you certain you wish to refuse me, Mr. Mo Yu?"
Mo Yu looked him dead in the eye—and smiled.
"I already said—no. I'm not interested."
Blood Cloud's eyes narrowed. Murderous intent rolled off him like a tidal wave.
"In that case, I shall take you by force."
But Mo Yu only laughed faintly, his silver pupils glinting with lightning.
"Let me be honest with you," he said softly, the amusement in his voice turning cold. "With your strength as a mere Ninth-Grade Supreme—you're not qualified.
If your superiors, Blood-Robe or even Blood Lingzi themselves, wish to speak with me, tell them to come in person."
(END CHAPTER)
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