Chapter 117: Venting Frustration

“Everyone in Nanxi Commandery can be toyed with at your whim, even the newly appointed governor can be toyed with, but you are not allowed to touch this Chief Clerk Cui.”

Zhong Cangqiu glanced sideways at Chen Chi. His Night Fan sword blocked the Bone Staff. Suddenly, the two skulls and six bony arms at the top of the staff shattered, leaving only a bare bone rod.

“Also, remember to guard your original heart. I don’t want the day to come when I have to lock away the demonized version of you in the basement. You must have seen the clan members tainted by demons who are locked in the mansion's basement.”

Zhong Cangqiu flipped his palm, and the Night Fan sword returned to his grasp.

Chen Chi lifted the empty bone rod, his fierce expression gradually fading. He lowered his eyes to Cui Dandan, who was shielding Xie Xiushi, and said, “Cangqiu, I’m very angry.”

“Let Yue Yong accompany you to Dream Floating City,” Zhong Cangqiu said calmly. “He remembers who was in the Cui mansion just now. As for the rest, kill as many as you need to vent your anger.”

Chen Chi rubbed his forehead with his left hand and sighed deeply, uttering words that made Cui Dandan’s blood run cold: “So, is it also acceptable for me to massacre the city?”

“As long as you don’t go mad, you can kill as many as you want,” Zhong Cangqiu said without a flicker of emotion on his heroic face.

“You hold the Nanhuang Order, you are one of the ten great families of Nanhuang Province, can you really commit such brutal acts? Do you have no shred of human compassion?”

Dragging the heavily injured Xie Xiushi away, Cui Dandan’s voice trembled with anger, unable to maintain calm any longer. To her, these people were more heartless and terrifying than demons.

“Without the ten great families of Nanhuang Province, the demons of Nanhuang would never be so orderly. Without us, you would only be demon fodder,” Zhong Cangqiu said calmly, his golden eyes fixed on Cui Dandan.

“How are you any different from demons now?!” Cui Dandan’s voice cracked as she shouted.

Zhong Cangqiu looked at Cui Dandan calmly. “Don’t forget, all of you are descendants of sinners. No matter how many sinners die, it’s well deserved. You’re alive now; you should be grateful.”

“We are alive not because of you, but because we’re fighting to survive!” Cui Dandan clenched her fists so hard that her fingertips dug into her palms.

“You should be thankful your family produced Chief Clerk Cui, or you’d be lying on the ground now, not speaking to me so defiantly.”

Zhong Cangqiu rode his purple crow horse past Cui Dandan, preparing not to wait for the people from Qingtan Mountain to come down; he intended to go up himself.

A faint smile appeared on Chen Chi’s face as he looked at Cui Dandan. “Even if I can’t kill you, can I not kill the people of this city? Originally, you could have just let me hit him a few times, but why did you have to make me angry?”

“Are you really that cruel…”

Cui Dandan looked up at Chen Chi on the purple crow horse. Her tightly clenched hands slightly loosened, blood seeping from her nails drop by drop.

Chen Chi shook his head with a sigh. “Compared to my brothers, I don’t think I’m cruel; at least I consider myself somewhat obedient. But I hate it when others block what I want to do, especially someone like you, lowly and powerless.”

“Are you not afraid at all of karma, torment, and the flames of sin?” Cui Dandan’s tone suddenly turned calm as she asked.

Chen Chi laughed aloud. “Karma? Flames of sin? I want to see karma, want to meet those flames, but unfortunately, they don’t want to see me.”

“Don’t move.”

A faint warning echoed in Cui Dandan’s ear. Suddenly, she found herself unable to move a muscle, even her eyes could only stare blankly ahead.

Yue Yong, who had been at the narrow path entrance, had quietly appeared behind her. Only an unmanned purple crow horse remained at the path entrance.

Even the people from the Xu family had retreated with the Cui family.

“Blood Soul Technique will consume what little life you have left. Even if you use it, it won’t harm Master Chen,” Yue Yong said calmly.

Drops of blood seeped from Cui Dandan’s palm, falling silently to the ground, forming soul patterns that intertwined to create a blood-red square banner.

Seeing Yue Yong suddenly at Cui Dandan’s back, Chen Chi smiled softly and rode his purple crow horse to Xie Xiushi’s side. “Since his mortal body is too impure, let me destroy it.”

Chen Chi pulled the reins; the purple crow horse raised its front hoof, ready to stomp heavily on Xie Xiushi’s back.

Whoosh.

Yue Yong reached out and grabbed the rapidly approaching copper staff. A sharp cry of a white ape rang out from the staff as it vibrated like an earth dragon twisting.

Yue Yong momentarily lost grip, and the copper staff flew free, striking the purple crow horse’s belly.

The horse reared in pain, throwing Chen Chi to the ground. His splendid golden moon-patterned robe was stained with mud and grass debris.

“Hey!”

Along the serene mountain path of Qingtan Mountain, the willow branches swayed gently back to calm. Wu Yang, carrying the unconscious Su Yuanbai, descended the mountain slowly. His sharp gaze fixed on the figures below, his deep voice called out.

Zhong Cangqiu could have stopped the copper staff flying past him but chose not to, instead watching the serene mountain path calmly with his golden eyes.

“Are you the one who killed that mutated old centipede spirit?” Zhong Cangqiu looked down at Wu Yang, who crushed a few centipedes off himself, a distant smile playing on his face.

Though Wu Yang knew nothing about the heroic man on the purple crow horse, he could tell all these men were riding the same type of fine horses, meaning they were allies.

So, despite Zhong Cangqiu’s smile, Wu Yang’s expression remained grim.

“Whether I killed it or not, what does it matter?” Wu Yang spat blood and smirked mockingly.

Zhong Cangqiu’s smile faded. Calmly, he said, “If you killed it, I can spare your life. If not, you’ll have to explain yourself here.”

“Such arrogant talk…”

Suddenly, Wu Yang’s vision blurred, a mist of water veiling his sight. When the mist cleared, a cold, gleaming long sword appeared, its tip pressed against his forehead.

A drop of blood slid down his brow.

Wu Yang had no doubt that if the sword pierced lightly, his head would be pierced.

“It seems you didn’t kill it.”

Zhong Cangqiu looked deep into Wu Yang’s pupils, which trembled violently, then at the panic dawning on his face. With a flick of his finger, Zhong Cangqiu lost patience.

Hum.

The Night Fan sword did not pierce through Wu Yang’s head as Zhong Cangqiu expected, nor did it return. Instead, the blade vibrated continuously, causing Zhong Cangqiu’s fingers to tremble.

He looked up.

Two slender fingers were pinching the sword blade of the Night Fan.