The sounds from the alley mouth – footsteps, barking, shouts – closed in rapidly. The flickering, sickly yellow light of torches now painted the narrow alley's wet walls, dyeing the rain a ghastly orange-red.
Ling Ye crouched in the deepest shadow of the corner, his body wracked with violent tremors. The brutal influx of knowledge from the *Scripture of Blood and Flame* and the searing, alien cold of the power now coursing through him warred within his flesh. The inhuman agony persisted, feeling as if his bones were being shattered and his meridians branded with hot iron. Yet, alongside it, a savage, frigid energy—unprecedented and raw—was taking root, sprouting, and raging through his previously weak and barren meridians.
The *Scripture of Blood and Flame*'s technique cycled once, a minor revolution, on its own accord. Instinctively, it began to draw upon his potent resentment and the pervasive aura of death and slaughter surrounding him, transforming it into a dark crimson power brimming with pure destruction—the Power of Blood and Flame!
"Boss! The door's open! The stench of blood in here is thick!" a guard growled at the entrance, his voice edged with wariness and disgust.
"Get in there! Damn this wretched weather… Be careful, don't get caught off guard!" ordered another, steadier and crueler voice. It was Zhao Wu, the leader of this squad, a captain among the Zhao family's guards and a genuine early-stage Martial Warrior—a decently skilled fighter in Qinglin City.
Two guards exchanged glances, tightened their grips on their steel broadswords, and cautiously stepped over the threshold into the bloody scene.
The moment they crossed into the hut, their eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom—
A black shadow! Like a bloodthirsty panther lurking in the shadows, erupted from the deepest darkness of the corner!
Its speed surpassed their ability to track!
"Who's there?!" one guard managed a short, sharp cry before a hand, wreathed in faint, dark crimson flames, its skin grotesquely split and cracking like a demon's, shot out with lightning speed. It clamped around his throat like an icy vise!
*CRACK!*
The sickening, crisp sound of shattering bone echoed with terrifying clarity in the deathly silent room. The guard's eyes bulged in instant, disbelieving terror before his throat was utterly crushed by an irresistible force. He died without a scream, his body slumping bonelessly to the floor, twitching a few times before falling still.
The other guard, scared out of his wits by the sudden, horrifying turn, acted on pure instinct. He raised his broadsword and swung it in a waist-level chop at the shadow!
The shadow didn't dodge. Instead, it countered with a backhanded palm strike!
*BOOM!*
The palm, sheathed in those bizarre blood-flames, struck the flat of the broadsword with shocking speed. The well-tempered steel blade let out a groan of protest, deformed by an unimaginable force and a searing, sinister energy! It flew from the guard's grasp, clattering against the wall with a loud *clang*! The guard's tiger-mouth split open, blood streaming down, his entire arm numbed from the impact.
Before he could recover from this shocking blow, that terrifying, blood-flame-wreathed hand descended like a summons from hell onto his chest.
*THUMP—!*
It was as if he'd been hit by a charging bull. His chest visibly cratered, the sound of shattering bones forming a continuous crackle. He vomited blood, flecked with pieces of internal organs, his body flying backward like a broken kite. He slammed into the earthen wall behind him, shaking loose a shower of dust, before sliding limply to the floor, clearly beyond saving.
It all happened in the space of a breath. Like a hawk striking a rabbit, two Zhao family guards were dead!
Outside, Zhao Wu and the three remaining guards heard the commotion inside. Their faces paled with shock.
"What happened?! Lao Liu! Hei Zi!" Zhao Wu yelled sharply. With a *shing*, he drew the heavy-backed cleaver from his waist. The meager true energy within him circulated, causing a faint glow to shimmer along the blade as he stared warily into the dark doorway. Rain soaked his hair, running down his bewildered and fearful face.
The other three guards also drew their blades, assuming defensive stances, blocking the entrance.
From the darkness, a figure slowly, step by step, walked out.
The rain plastered his messy black hair to his forehead. His tattered, coarse hemp tunic was smeared with mud, blood, and strange, charred-black marks. But his eyes… they shone with a terrifying light, a mixture of two dreadful hues—the insane crimson of boundless hatred and the cold, inhuman darkness bestowed by the power of the *Scripture of Blood and Flame*.
Most heart-stopping were his hands, arms, and the skin of his neck. Beneath the surface, it seemed as if dark red magma flowed. The skin itself occasionally *crackled* and split open in fine fissures, leaking an unsettling bloody-red light. The rainwater sizzled into tendrils of steam as it neared the intense heat radiating from him, making him look like a demon freshly crawled from the fires of hell!
"It's… it's that little bastard! How did he become… this?!" one guard stammered, recognizing Ling Ye's features despite the drastic change. His voice trembled uncontrollably, his sword hand shaking.
Zhao Wu's heart clenched violently, his pupils constricting to pinpricks. He sensed an extremely dangerous, profoundly sinister aura from the other—something that absolutely did not belong to this world! This was no ordinary miner or laborer! The sheer killing intent and血腥味 emanating from him made even Zhao Wu, a seasoned fighter, feel a pang of primal fear.
"All together! Chop this monster down!" Zhao Wu roared, suppressing his own unease, trying to bolster his own and his men's courage. He took the lead, channeling all his true energy. The glow on his blade brightened slightly as he executed a Mountain-Splitting Chop—a technique meant to cleave stone—whistling through the air straight for Ling Ye's face! He aimed to bisect this freak with one blow!
Emboldened by their leader's charge, the three remaining guards mustered their courage and charged with battle cries from the left and right, aiming to cut off all avenues of escape.
Ling Ye, his mind now flooded with the *Scripture*'s agonizing backlash and a thirst for slaughter, didn't evade. Instead, he met their charge with a raw, guttural roar that sounded utterly inhuman!
Facing Zhao Wu's true-energy-infused, powerful chop, his blood-flame-wreathed right hand shot out. His fingers formed a claw, aiming with terrifying precision and fearlessness directly for the sharp blade itself!
"Seeking death!" Zhao Wu's eyes flashed with vicious glee. He put all his strength into the downward slash, confident it would split the boy's hand and skull alike!
*CLANG—!!!!*
A deafening metallic clang exploded through the alley! Sparks flew!
The expected severing of the hand did not happen. Zhao Wu felt an unimaginable force and a searing, corrupting energy transmit up the blade, numbing his arm and sending sharp pain through his tiger-mouth, nearly making him drop the weapon! His face drained of color. Staring, he saw his energy-charged blade caught fast in the other's bare hand! The dark red flames writhed around the steel like living things, *sizzling* and eroding his true energy! Where blade met flesh, thin tendrils of smoke began to rise.
"What kind of demonic art is this?!" Zhao Wu shrieked, his soul seeming to flee his body in terror.
At that moment, the blades of the flanking guards landed squarely on Ling Ye's body.
*THWACK! THWACK!*
The blades bit into flesh. Blood spurted! But the wounds were far shallower than expected, as if they had struck incredibly tough, aged leather, hindered by some resisting force. Moreover, the muscles around the wounds twisted unnaturally, gripping the blades tightly! Even more horrifying, the dark red flames clung like malignant parasites, racing up the steel toward the guards' arms!
"Ah! It burns! This fire is evil!" the two guards screamed, feeling a piercing, scorching pain in their arms as if their very blood was igniting. They tried to let go and retreat.
But Ling Ye moved. Ignoring the fresh sword wounds, his left hand shot out like a ghost's claw. His fingers hooked, clamping onto the face of the guard on his left.
*CRUNCH!*
The sickening sound of shattering skull made one's scalp crawl. The guard's scream was cut short. His head deformed like a crushed melon, gore and brains oozing from between the crushing fingers!
Simultaneously, the hand gripping Zhao Wu's blade twisted violently! A force far beyond Zhao Wu's comprehension wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The cleaver was now in Ling Ye's possession.
Without even looking, Ling Ye swung the stolen cleaver in a backhanded sweep. The movement was a blur.
The guard on the right, trying to back away, felt a sudden chill on his neck. The world spun. He saw a headless body spurting blood, its clothing… oddly familiar… It was his last conscious thought.
In the blink of an eye, two more guards lay dead. The methods were brutal, savage, like those of a demon god.
The last remaining guard was utterly broken. He let out a strange cry, threw down his sword, and turned to flee! This thing wasn't human—it was a monster from the pits of hell!
He barely took a step before a foul wind hit his back. Ling Ye, pouring all his malice and the Power of Blood and Flame into the throw, hurled the heavy cleaver like a javelin!
*THWUMP!*
The cleaver pierced clean through the fleeing guard's back, its tip bursting from his chest. The immense force carried his body forward several stumbling steps before he crashed face-down onto the ground. Blood rapidly dyed the puddles around him. He twitched twice and was still.
Now, only Zhao Wu remained—stunned, disarmed, and cold to the bone as if plunged into an icy abyss.
The fight had lasted barely a dozen breaths.
Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the *hiss* of rain washing away blood and Ling Ye's ragged, inhuman panting, which sounded like a broken bellows. The blood-flames flickered erratically on his body. The supernatural power receded like a tide, replaced by an even more overwhelming, soul-rending backlash of agony and a weakness that penetrated his very marrow! The pain from his sword wounds arrived late, a fiery, searing torment.
He knelt in the mud and gore, looking at his utterly transformed hands—charred black and bloody red, no longer seeming human—at the horrifying, slaughterhouse scene around him. His stomach churned violently.
This was his first time killing.
But aside from an initial, instinctive revulsion, what filled his chest was a twisted, dark satisfaction and release! It was as if some suppressed beast deep within him had been utterly unleashed.
The sinister whispers of the *Scripture of Blood and Flame* echoed again in the sea of his soul, tempting him to draw upon the thick death energy of this place.
Staggering, he stood up. He picked up Zhao Wu's heavy cleaver. The cold hilt felt strangely reassuring in his grasp. His gaze lifted, cutting through the curtain of rain, fixing on the deepest part of the City Lord's mansion, where the lights were brightest and the sounds of music and revelry surely continued.
The corner of his mouth twisted into a cold, distorted semblance of a smile that was utterly inhuman.
The feast of vengeance had only just begun.
Zhao Kang… you're next.