Spiderweb-like cracks spread across the bluish-grey stone surface, like a dried-up riverbed. A few strands of daylight slanted in from the broken holes above, cutting through the suspended, slowly rotating dust. There was a smell in the air—old, dusty earth, mixed with something deeper, a rust-like metallic tang. Lin Yi’s boot soles crunched over the gravel, producing fine, grating sounds. He stopped, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the hilt of the short knife at his waist. The rhythm was steady, carrying a pressure that was almost rigid. He was observing. In the four corners of the stone hall stood broken stone pillars topped with beast heads, their carvings long weathered and blurred, but one could vaguely make out the shape of some guardian spirit beast. Straight ahead, on a half-collapsed stone platform, were carved some fragmented runes. Clues to the legacy of going against fate… Mo Chen had only given a vague direction, saying that deep within this abyss, there were traces where “the rules had been torn open.” On his third step, a familiar burning pain shot through the inside of his left arm. It felt like red-hot iron wire traveling along the veins beneath his skin. He didn’t even twitch an eyebrow, only slowed his breathing further. This pain had become increasingly frequent lately, especially when nearing certain… “anomalous” things. Was it a warning, or an attraction? He had no time to ponder. The two points of dark shadow in the eye sockets of the beast head in the southeastern corner of the hall seemed… to move. Lin Yi’s footsteps abruptly halted. The tapping finger on the knife hilt froze mid-air. Almost simultaneously, the broken stone pillars in all four corners lit up—not with light, but with a twisted, viscous kind of shadow, gushing out from the cracks in the carvings, rapidly swelling and stretching, transforming into four or five distorted, swaying ghostly figures. They had no faces, only constantly shifting outlines, emitting silent shrieks as they pounced towards him. His vision was disrupted. The chilling air currents stirred up by the ghostly figures’ passage felt like icy tongues licking the back of his neck. His body violently twisted to the left, waist pivoting, rolling. The movements were clean, as if practiced a thousand times. Three short, sharp sounds of something cutting through the air, almost grazing his body. They came from three completely different blind spots—behind the left-front stone pillar, from within the shadows of a collapsed curtain to the right-rear, and from a recess in a crossbeam overhead. Poisoned crossbow bolts. The arrowheads gleamed with a dark blue phosphorescence, leaving a faint, cloyingly sweet scent in the air as they sliced through. The third bolt wasn’t completely avoided. The icy blade grazed the outside of his right rib, fabric tearing, a searing line of pain flaring across his skin. Then, from deep within that pain, a thread of numbing chill seeped out. Lin Yi grunted, his rolling momentum not yet spent, as spiritual power exploded into his legs like ignited gunpowder. The gravel on the ground shattered, and his entire body shot forth like a fully drawn bowstring suddenly released, exploding towards the source of the left-side bolt—the area behind that stone pillar. Mid-air, his right hand clenched as if grasping something, a pale golden blade of energy extending from his palm with a sharp hiss, less than three feet long, yet so condensed it seemed to slice through the light itself. The energy blade cut through the air, and also through the residual afterimage of a ghostly figure not yet fully dissipated. The feeling was hollow. A miss? No— That wasn’t the chill of a ghostly figure. It was something purer, sharper. Like the bone-penetrating water of an ice river on a deep winter night, utterly silent, yet sealing off all paths of retreat. A sword? When? Instinct, every hair standing on end, saved him. Twisting his body, blocking, his left arm instinctively rising to protect his head and neck. All these actions were completed in the blink of an eye, so fast there was almost no room for thought. The explosive clang of metal meeting metal reverberated through the stone hall, making it hum. It wasn’t the sound of metal striking metal; it was more like something incredibly hard smashing against thousand-year-old black ice. The sleeve of his left arm was instantly shredded to pieces, cloth fragments flying. On the exposed skin of his arm, dark red patterns writhed like living thorns, winding and bulging beneath the surface, now locked in a desperate struggle against the tip of an ice-blue sword. The fierce, invasive cold emanating from the sword tip caused fine, dense frost flowers to crystallize on The cold air, serpent-like, crept along the point of contact between the sword tip and his skin, burrowing into Lin Yi’s meridians. The intense pain from his left arm grew complex—the stinging ache of frostbite on the surface, the burning, swelling pain beneath the skin along the strange patterns, and the spasmodic agony caused by the invasive cold energy penetrating his meridians. These pains intertwined, causing cold sweat to bead at his temples. Lin Yi clenched his teeth. The line of his jaw tightened like a fully drawn bowstring. Through gritted teeth, he forced out the name, one word at a time: Xiao Han. Cold River Lone Shadow. Grandson of the Lin family’s Great Elder, Xiao Yuanshan. Also, the rising star who had swiftly replaced his position after that "Heaven's Punishment" three years ago, now cultivated with the family's full resources. And more… among the many faces that had led the team breaking into the Lin family's forbidden grounds that night to carry out the "cleansing," the one Lin Yi remembered most clearly. The force at the sword tip withdrew slightly, then advanced another three-tenths of an inch at a more precise angle. Instead of pressing the advantage, Xiao Han elegantly withdrew his sword and took half a step back, using the momentum. The ice-blue longsword twirled in his hand, the blade reflecting the fragmented light from the hole in the ceiling, shimmering with a cold, brilliant luster. "Your reaction isn't slow," Xiao Han remarked, his tone unreadable as to whether it was praise or sarcasm. "A bit better than the fool who just stood there waiting to be struck by lightning three years ago." Seizing the moment, Lin Yi explosively retreated, instantly putting two zhang of distance between them. A numb, stinging pain came from the wound at his right ribs; the poison was slowly spreading. His left arm hung low, the dark-red patterns flickering erratically, each pulse bringing a tearing agony. He breathed heavily, his chest burning as if on fire, but his eyes remained locked fiercely on Xiao Han, not daring to deviate in the slightest. From the shadows on both sides, three pitch-black figures slowly emerged. Clad entirely in night-attire, only their emotionless eyes were visible. They held peculiarly shaped short crossbows, the bolts already re-cocked, the dark-blue arrowheads subtly adjusting their aim as Lin Yi moved. Their positions faintly sealed off all his possible escape routes. Xiao Han leisurely straightened his already unwrinkled sleeve, his left thumb gently rotating a cyan jade thumb ring on his knuckle. His gaze swept over the bleeding wound at Lin Yi's ribs, then returned to the flickering, mutated left arm. He shook his head, his tone carrying a mockery tinged with something almost like pity: "Why bother, Ziyuan? Sneaking around to practice these heretical arts, turning yourself into this neither-human-nor-ghost state." He sighed softly. "If you had obediently remained a cripple, living out your remaining days in the Lin family's rear courtyard, you might have even gotten a peaceful end. Yet you had to jump out and investigate things you shouldn't know." Lin Yi's breathing gradually steadied, not because his injuries had improved, but because he forcibly suppressed the churning qi and blood. The pain made his thinking exceptionally clear. He slowly straightened his posture, even though his left arm continued to tremble uncontrollably. "Things I shouldn't know?" he spoke, his voice hoarse from pain, yet he deliberately slowed his pace, each word falling like a stone. "Such as the truth behind the 'sudden illness' that took all seventy-three members of my Lin family overnight? Such as the thing you took from the depths of the forbidden grounds?" Xiao Han's rotation of the jade ring paused for a moment. He looked at Lin Yi, a subtle ripple finally appearing in his ice-lake eyes—like surprise, or perhaps… amusement. "You know a bit more than I imagined," he admitted, his tone still composed. "A pity. The more you know, the faster you die." He paused, then suddenly asked, "Do you really believe that my Xiao family alone could cover the sky and move freely within your Lin estate, taking that thing even your father regarded as his very life?" "What do you mean." It wasn't a question. His voice was as dry as sandpaper grating. Xiao Han smiled. This time it was a real smile, the curve of his lips perfect, though his eyes remained cold. "What I mean is, fool." He slowly took a step forward, the ice-blue longsword pointing diagonally at the ground, its tip lightly tapping the gravel. "Without the tacit consent of your dear father—Patriarch Lin Zhenyue—without the deal he and 'certain people' "Impossible?" Xiao Han's smile deepened, a mask exquisitely carved, flawless yet utterly devoid of warmth. "Who is Lin Zhenyue? He is the Lin Clan Patriarch who values family legacy more than his own life, more than his son, more than anything. To ensure the Lin family's continuation, to keep his seat of power secure, to... to touch those higher, more inviolable 'rules'... what wouldn't he trade? What wouldn't he sacrifice?" With each sentence, he took a step forward. His words were like ice spikes dipped in poison, driving one after another into Lin Yi's eardrums, piercing his heart. "A son with a heaven-bestowed full spiritual root, but one who might invite greater calamity... and a 'key' that could allow the family to endure another century, even let him glimpse a corner of the Heavenly Dao... which do you think he would choose?" Lin Yi stumbled backward, his spine slamming against the cold stone wall. The rough surface grated against his wounds, but he felt no pain. The burning sensation in his left arm surged madly; the dark crimson patterns writhed violently beneath his skin like red-hot branding irons, almost breaking through. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, and a sharp tinnitus screamed in his ears. The solitary, kneeling figure deep into the night in the ancestral hall... those occasional, complex, inscrutable glances cast his way... that flicker in his father's eyes when the Heavenly Punishment descended—had he been mistaken? Was it... relief? The father he had always yearned to gain approval from, even secretly hoping would stand up to protect him in the end... had long ago signed and sealed that cold, transactional contract. And Lin Yi was the troublesome sacrifice placed upon the altar. Inexpressible rage, the searing pain of betrayal by a parent, the torrential hatred born of three years of torment, and a despair so deep it seemed bottomless—all these emotions shattered the dam of his reason in an instant. The aberrant patterns on his left arm erupted with a piercing, dark crimson radiance, like magma bursting through bedrock. A violent, chaotic, predatory and destructive dark red energy exploded from his left arm! No longer the previously tame (relatively speaking) heat, but an uncontrollable deluge, surging outwards in a ring-like shockwave! "Hmph!" Xiao Han's expression shifted slightly. His ice-blue longsword instantly carved several layers of azure sword-screens before him. The dark red energy crashed against the screens, emitting an ear-grating corrosive sound. The blue light dimmed rapidly. The three black-clad assassins reacted with extreme speed, diving and evading in different directions. The one on the far right was a fraction slower, grazed by the edge of a stray energy tendril. He couldn't even scream; his entire right arm and half his shoulder dissolved into flying ash within the dark red glow, as if devoured by an invisible beast. He collapsed to the ground, howling in agony. His wound didn't bleed; it bore only charred, spreading marks of corrosion. The turbulent energy surged through the stone hall. The already damaged pillars groaned under unbearable stress and collapsed with a thunderous crash! Rubble rained down, and dust billowed into the air. At the center of the chaos, Lin Yi knelt on one knee. The dark red glow rapidly receded from his body, withdrawing into his left arm. The patterns dimmed but remained searingly hot. He hung his head, retching violently, vomiting dark red blood that seemed mixed with fragments of internal organs. Blood trickled from all seven orifices, his appearance wretched as a demon from hell. As the dust slowly settled, Xiao Han's figure reappeared through the hazy gray fog. He had retreated further back. His robes were stained with dust, his face slightly pale. The hand holding his sword remained steady, but the look in his eyes as he regarded Lin Yi had lost its absolute, controlled composure for the first time, replaced by a measure of shock and... gravity. Lin Yi wiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand. His vision was blurred, double images swam, but he saw that flash of shock in Xiao Han's gaze. He bared his teeth, stained crimson with blood. His voice was hoarse, almost shattered, yet unnervingly calm—a calm that chilled the heart: He swayed, using that alien, drooping, transformed left arm that felt like it no longer belonged to him to brace against the stone wall. Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed himself upright. The dark red patterns on his left arm flickered faintly with his movement, like a candle in the wind. "Then with this..." he gasped, each word flecked with bloody foam, "...stolen, seized, this power that all of you fear..." He raised his right hand—the one still relatively intact "Interesting," he said. "It seems the 'backlash' of that thing is more intriguing than you yourself." He no longer looked at Lin Yi, instead turning to the two remaining black-clad death soldiers and making a brief gesture. The two death soldiers immediately stepped forward, dragged their gravely wounded, dying companion, and swiftly retreated toward the shadowy corridor at the side of the stone hall. Xiao Han himself slowly backed away, the ice-blue longsword still slanted forward, guarding against any possible final desperate strike from Lin Yi. His gaze finally settled on Lin Yi, as if appraising a piece of shattered yet unexpectedly sharp porcelain. "That's enough for today, Ziyuan," he said, his voice having regained its clear, calm tone. "Your life, and that bit of 'stolen' power in your arm, you can keep them for now." He retreated to the corridor entrance. Just before his figure was about to vanish into the shadows, he paused, leaving a final sentence. The voice wasn't loud, yet it clearly pierced through the lingering dust and smoke, drilling into Lin Yi's ringing ears: "By the way, a reminder. That scent you carry now... those old fellows who truly care about whether the 'rules' remain intact have very keen noses. They will smell it soon enough." As his words fell, his figure completely disappeared into the deep darkness of the corridor. In the stone hall, only Lin Yi remained. No, there was also the debris of shattered stones, collapsed beams and pillars, the lingering, undispersed dust and smoke, and the thick, choking smell of blood mingled with the acrid stench of residual energy. Lin Yi finally couldn't hold on any longer. He slid down against the stone wall and sat on the ground. The intense pain in his left arm and the tearing sensation throughout his meridians surged over him like a tidal wave, instantly drowning him. His vision completely darkened. In the last blurred moment before losing consciousness, he vaguely thought: Darkness completely swallowed him. Only on his left arm, the dim, dark-red patterns still pulsed faintly, stubbornly, once, twice. *** There was a smell in the air—the dust of ages, mixed with a deeper, rust-like metallic scent. The dome of the stone hall was high. A few strands of daylight leaked through broken cracks, cutting several pale slanted lines across the dust-covered floor. He stood within one of those beams of light. The sleeve of his left arm was already torn to shreds. Dark-red patterns spread from his elbow all the way to his forearm, like the blood vessels of some living creature, pulsing faintly beneath the skin. Where the crossbow bolt had grazed, the fabric was torn open, flesh curled outward, the oozing blood already congealed into a dark brown. But what truly made his breath catch was the needle-like numbness radiating from the edges of the wound. In the shadows at the other end of the stone hall stood three people. Two black-clad death soldiers flanked left and right, like two lifeless stone statues. The short crossbows in their hands were already re-cocked, the arrowheads gleaming with a faint blue light in the gloom. The man in the middle wore a moon-white robe. The fabric was of the finest ice-silk, the cuffs embroidered with silver thread in subtle patterns that shimmered with watery light in the faint illumination. He stood very straight, his spine erect like a spear shaft, the thumb of his left hand gently rotating a jade thumb ring worn at the base of his finger. A very low, almost inaudible rasp escaped Lin Yi's throat. Not fear, but something more primal—like a beast catching the scent of a fellow creature's blood, every muscle in his body instantly tensing, every hair standing on end. After that "Heavenly Punishment" three years ago, he had never seen this person again. He had only heard that this adopted foster son of the Lin family, on the night of the clan's destruction, personally opened the ancestral hall's forbidden seals. The voice was clear and melodious, the tone as calm as if greeting a long-lost friend. But every word was like a meticulously polished ice-pick, lightly and deftly thrusting forward. He took half a step forward. The hem of his moon-white robe brushed the ground without picking up a speck of dust. His gaze fell on Lin Yi's exposed left arm. In those eyes that always held a hint of amusement, there was no emotion now. "This arm..." He paused, the corner of his mouth curving into a very faint arc. "It seems to have eaten something it shouldn't have." Lin Yi's fingertips were still pressed against the stone wall, his nails whitening slightly from the force. The patterns on his left arm throbbed beneath the skin. A burning pain crawled up along his meridians, like red-hot iron needles churning inside his bones Lin Yi’s gaze swept over the two black-clad death warriors. Their positions were cunning, sealing off retreat to both left and right, the crossbows’ aim fixed steadily on his chest and throat. The stone hall was not large to begin with—less than ten paces from front to back, flanked by broken stone pillars and collapsed altars. The only exit was behind him—the half-collapsed stone door he had pushed open when he entered. But now, within the shadow of the doorframe, the faint outline of a third person could be seen. “You…” Lin Yi began, his voice pressed low. “How did you find this place?” “How did we find it?” Xiao Han repeated, a hint of perfectly measured surprise in his tone. “Zi Yuan, you couldn’t possibly think that in these three years, no one was truly watching you, could you?” The icy-blue sword qi moved with him, tracing a frigid arc in the air. “From the day you left Cold Pool, every path you walked, every person you met, even…” He paused, his gaze settling on the patterns on Lin Yi’s left arm. “Every single ‘change’ that occurred on your body has been noted.” The patterns glowed once, a dark red light seeping from beneath the skin like a red-hot brand. Lin Yi clenched his teeth, his nails digging deep into his palms, using the pain to force himself to stay conscious. “Who?” Xiao Han laughed. “Who do you think?” He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and made an almost imperceptible gesture to the death warrior on his left. The warrior immediately raised the short crossbow, its arrowhead aimed at Lin Yi’s right leg. “Zi Yuan.” Xiao Han turned his gaze back, his tone suddenly softening, like an elder brother admonishing a wayward younger sibling. “Stop struggling. Your father sent me to bring you back—alive. Those were his exact words.” Those two words were like a blunt knife, stabbing deep into the softest part of his chest. For three years, he had seen that face countless times in nightmares—solemn, indifferent, and in that instant when the Heavenly Punishment descended, the fleeting flash in his eyes… “He…” Lin Yi’s voice trembled. “He sent you?” “Of course.” Xiao Han nodded as if it were obvious. “Otherwise, why would you think I’d appear in this godforsaken place?” He raised his hand. The icy-blue sword qi drifted slowly toward Lin Yi, halting less than three feet from his chest. A wave of cold air rushed over him, instantly raising goosebumps on Lin Yi’s exposed skin. “Come back with me,” Xiao Han said. “Your father promised me that if you’re willing to return, what happened in the past… can be wiped clean.” “Yes.” Xiao Han smiled. “You’ll still be the Young Master of the Lin family, and I’ll still be your sworn brother. Everything can return to how it was before—except, of course, for your spiritual roots.” He paused, adding, “But that’s not important, is it? You have… something better now.” This time, Lin Yi clearly saw the greed in his eyes. It wasn’t a thirst for power, but something colder—like a collector appraising a rare artifact, calculating what means to use to acquire it. “Go back…” Lin Yi whispered. “And then what? Lock me away? Or give me another ‘Heavenly Punishment’ like three years ago?” “Zi Yuan.” Xiao Han sighed, a trace of helplessness in his tone. “Why can’t you understand? That Heavenly Punishment three years ago was to save you.” These words were like two red-hot iron nails, hammered violently into Lin Yi’s eardrums. “I said, it was to save you.” Xiao Han repeated patiently. “Your condition back then, weren’t you aware of it yourself? A full innate spiritual root, intolerable to heaven and earth. If the Heavenly Punishment hadn’t been invoked to forcibly shatter your spiritual roots, you wouldn’t have lived another three months.” The icy-blue sword qi pressed closer, its cold already touching Lin Yi’s chest. A needle-like pain pricked his skin, but colder still was the chill rising from within his heart. “Your father was trying to save you,” Xiao Han said softly. “He did everything he could. Including… tacitly allowing me to take that item from the ancestral hall.” Lin Yi opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his throat felt stuffed with water-soaked cotton. Not a single word could be forced out. He could only stare fixedly at Xiao Han, at that face as smooth as jade, at the near-pitying smile in his eyes. “I’m lying to "Yes." Xiao Han nodded. "I was there. Not only was I there, I personally activated the auxiliary array of the altar—without that array, the power of the Heavenly Punishment would have blasted you to ashes." "Ziyuan, your father never wanted you dead. He just... had to make a choice. Between your life alone and the continued existence of the entire Lin Family, he chose the latter." He took half a step back, his spine slamming hard against the cold stone wall. The rough stone surface ground into his wounds, the sharp pain making his vision darken, but darker still was the ruins collapsing within his heart. He hated his father's indifference, hated his clan's abandonment, hated everyone in this world who looked down on him, who trampled him underfoot. He had forged this hatred into fire, refined it into steel, hammered it into the sole pillar supporting his will to live. "No..." he muttered, "Impossible..." "Why impossible?" Xiao Han countered. "Did you think that my Xiao Family alone could deceive the heavens, come and go freely in your Lin Family, and take away that thing your father valued as dearly as his own life?" This step crossed the invisible boundary drawn by the ice-blue sword energy. "Your father gave his nod." Xiao Han's voice was pressed very low, as if sharing a secret. "He made a deal... with certain people. To trade that thing for the Lin Family's peace for a hundred years, and for you... a path to live." The patterns on his left arm jumped frantically, the dark red light almost bursting through his skin. The burning pain turned into a tearing, rending agony, as if countless hands were ripping at his flesh from the inside, trying to pull his bones out one by one. He clenched his teeth, the taste of blood spreading in his mouth. "That... that thing..." he rasped, "What was it?" This time, the smile finally revealed undisguised mockery. "What was it?" he repeated. "Of course it was something that could secure his position as clan head, even... allow him to touch higher laws." He raised his hand, the ice-blue sword energy slowly descending, hanging before Lin Yi's brow. "As for you..." Xiao Han said softly, "You're just an inconvenient 'mistake' that needed to be cleaned up." Two words, like the final two nails, completely sealing the ruins in Lin Yi's heart. The scene from the Heavenly Punishment three years ago exploded before his eyes once more— His father's resolute back as he turned and walked away. And... Xiao Han, standing behind his father, the fleeting smile that had curled at the corner of his mouth. A pawn, personally placed on the altar by his father, to be exchanged for the family's interests. "Defy heaven and change fate?" Xiao Han's laughter rang in his ears, laden with undisguised scorn. "Haha, Ziyuan, Heaven wants you dead, and your father gave his nod. What will you use to change it?" The dark red light surged from beneath his skin like lava, instantly engulfing his entire arm. The agony reached its peak, then... suddenly vanished. Replaced by a cold, almost void-like sense of emptiness. His gaze passed through the ice-blue sword energy, through Xiao Han's face full of mockery, through the shattered cracks in the stone hall's dome, looking out at the gray, overcast sky outside. The corner of his mouth twisted into a distorted, nearly ferocious curve. "What will I use to change it?" he repeated Xiao Han's words, his voice hoarse like a broken bellows. "With this stolen... snatched... thing you all fear..." The dark red light on his left arm abruptly contracted, condensing into a single blinding point of light, suspended in his palm. Only a dark red ring-like ripple, centered on Lin Yi, silently spread outward. Wherever the ripple passed, the stone walls were instantly crushed to dust as if pressed by an invisible hand. The ice-blue sword energy, the moment it touched the ripple, shattered like glass and dissipated into the air. Xiao Han's moon-white robe left a trailing afterimage in the air as he instantly retreated to the other end of the stone hall. But the ripple was too fast; its edge still swept across the hem of his robe. The left sleeve of Xiao Han's robe was cleanly severed, the cut smooth as a mirror, revealing the pale arm beneath. A thin line of blood slowly seeped from his skin. He glanced down, a flash of disbelief in his eyes. The dark red ripple, after spreading to the edges of the stone hall, did not vanish, but began to contract inward. The air was compressed, emitting a teeth-grating creak. The space at the center of the stone hall twisted and warped as if clenched by an invisible fist. "You..." Xiao Han looked up, staring fixedly at Lin Yi The moment his palm touched the pattern, an even more violent force erupted from within him. This time, there was sound— In the center of the stone hall, a stone pillar thick enough for two men to embrace exploded from the middle. Shattered stone flew in all directions like cannonballs, smashing into the walls and leaving deep pits. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring vision, but a dark red light pierced through the haze like ghostly fire crawling out of hell, dancing madly within the hall. He raised his left hand. A faint white light flickered on the jade thumb ring, erecting a thin, shimmering barrier before him. The flying shards of stone struck the barrier, producing a dense, rapid sound like rain beating on plantain leaves. The two assassins behind him were not so fortunate. The one on the left was struck in the chest by a flying rock. He was sent flying backward, crashing heavily against the wall. When he slid to the ground, a large portion of his chest had caved in. The one on the right reacted slightly faster, twisting his body to dodge the shrapnel, but a dark red ripple swept past his right leg. His leg below the knee was severed as if by an invisible blade. The cut was smooth and clean, not a single drop of blood flowed out—because the wound was instantly cauterized by intense heat. The assassin collapsed to the ground, clutching his severed leg, ragged gasps escaping his throat. His gaze remained fixed on the figure kneeling amidst the settling dust. Lin Yi released the hand pressing against his left arm and staggered to his feet. His appearance was utterly wretched—blood trickled from all seven facial orifices, the sleeve of his left arm had completely vanished, and dark red patterns spread from his shoulder all the way to his fingertips, like some sinister tattoo. "Xiao Han," he spoke, his voice hoarse, yet each word was enunciated clearly. "Go back and tell my father..." He paused, the corners of his mouth twisting into that distorted smile again. "I will personally return to settle this debt with him." The dust slowly settled, revealing the hall in utter disarray. Shattered stone pillars, toppled altar tables, scattered rubble, and... on the ground, one assassin with a caved-in chest, another missing his right leg.