Ximen Wudi made his move.
There was no warning—he didn't even lift a finger—yet behind him, the Four Delicate Slaves and the Twelve Enchanting Maidens suddenly leapt into the air.
Sixteen beauties in perfect unison—not to strike, but to die.
Or perhaps, to die in a way so dramatic, so horrifying, that their deaths alone would become a spectacle.
Their bodies erupted midair without a sound. Not a scream, not even a gasp.
Each form shattered utterly—no complete bones, no intact limbs, nothing remained but sixteen geysers of vivid red blood, bursting forth into the sky, painting the night with a gruesome curtain of gore.
Ximen Wudi stood motionless beneath the blood curtain, yet not a single drop touched him. As if repelled by an invisible force, every drop veered away three feet from his body, spilling harmlessly to the side.
The same could not be said for the Nine Yin Saintess and the three guardians behind him. They dared not circulate their inner power to deflect the blood; instead, they were drenched—face, hair, and robes dripping crimson, like four demons born of flesh and blood.
SPLASH—The blood rain hit the ground in one massive wave, as if someone had poured a cauldron of human blood from the heavens.
Blood ran freely, merging with the rainwater. Half the long street was awash in red.
No one saw how Ximen Wudi killed them. No one knew why the girls had leapt, or how they exploded in midair.
Throughout the entire massacre, Ximen Wudi had made no movement—no gesture, no tremor of his robe. He hadn't even blinked.
This wasn't martial arts—it was something else entirely. Something godlike. Something demonic.
"Ugh—!" The reek of blood hit them like a wall. Li Xiaoye and Du Xiaoyan vomited on the spot. Even Tie Jian, Tie Xuanxuan, and Tu Hong turned away, pale-faced, unable to bear the sight.
"Why did you kill them? They were your subordinates!" San Shao's voice cut through the silence, cold as the winter wind that howled through mountain ravines. His hair stirred without wind. Within his eyes, the demon-gaze of Shura flickered—rivers of blood, mountains of corpses.
He could not abide such senseless slaughter. These young women had died not in battle, not in glory, not for purpose—but as props in a twisted display.
Even if they had to die, they deserved better than this.
"You know what a river of blood truly looks like?" Ximen Wudi's voice was calm—eerily so. As if those sixteen blooming flowers moments ago were no more than crushed ants. "Have you ever seen a real blood river? Thousands dead. Corpses piled high. Blood flows down from the mountain of dead, forming rivers that stretch in every direction. It's… beautiful. Magnificent."
He never answered the question. Instead, he offered a picture so perverse, so grandiose, it made the stomachs of those present twist with disgust and fury.
Killing is easy. Saving a life? That is hard. Those who have never tried to save with all their might cannot possibly understand the worth of a single life.
The purpose of life isn't to glorify its destruction in rivers of blood.
Qin Ren killed too. His technique, the Heaven-Obscuring Palm, could reduce foes to pulp as gruesome as this. But he never killed without reason. Not a single life was taken unless it threatened his, or the lives of those he protected.
"If others don't offend me, I won't offend them. But if they do... I show no mercy."That was San Shao's creed.
Qin Feng was a killer too. His sword had tasted the blood of hundreds. But his strikes were always clean. One slash, one death. He had never turned killing into performance art.
"Heh heh heh... Ximen Wudi, ever narrow-minded," Jo Wei sneered. "Seems even after all these years, your only improvement is in restraint—not in magnanimity. You killed them, didn't you, just because they heard San Shao mock you? Afraid your little 'Eastern Undefeated' nickname might get around? So why stop there? Why not kill the Nine Yin Saintess and her three guards too? Why not kill us? We heard it too. What are you going to do about it?"
Ximen Wudi remained unfazed. "The Saintess and her guardians have already been warned. As for you... you'll all die here tonight. But tell me, Jo Qitian—how did you like my little performance just now?"
Jo Wei scoffed. "Don't assume I know nothing of the Extinguishing God Scripture. What you used just now... was merely the Ascension of the Gods. You channeled your inner force into the ground, then through the earth into their bodies—blew them up from within after they rose into the air. Silent, invisible. But if I focus my power in my feet, how will your force ever invade me?"
He spoke lightly, but the others were in shock.
Channeling power through the earth to attack? That wasn't martial arts—it was madness.
People had heard of Striking the Bull Through the Mountain—but using the entire earth as a medium, attacking across distances, controlling divided energy remotely?
That was unheard of. Worse, Ximen Wudi had split his power into sixteen threads, sent each into a different woman, and detonated them simultaneously—effortlessly.
Only Jo Wei's insight saved them. Qin Ren and the others quickly channeled power into their feet, lest the same fate befall their weakest—Li Xiaoye and Du Xiaoyan.
Ximen Wudi laughed. "As expected of one of the Four Demon Lords. Keen eyes. That move is best used for assassinations. Who would expect a man standing still to kill so spectacularly? But don't worry—I won't use tricks to kill you. I'll kill you openly."
"Ximen Wudi, don't be arrogant! With me, Qin Feng, here—you will not run wild!" Qin Da Shao finally erupted. Never had he met a man more brazen than himself.
Ximen Wudi smiled. "Qin Da Shao, if your Heavenly Sword had fully matured, perhaps I'd tread more carefully. But you've only just begun to grasp its doorway. Against me... you're still too green."
Then he pointed at Tu Hong. "Now, I'll kill him. Can you stop me?"
Tu Hong blinked. "What the hell does this have to do with me?!"
San Shao, Jo Wei, and Uncle Li shifted, forming a triangle around Tu Hong. Qin Feng stepped left, placing himself directly between Tu Hong and Ximen Wudi.
The Three Killing Gods and Tie Jian formed a line behind Qin Feng.
If Ximen Wudi wanted Tu Hong, he'd have to go through Qin Feng, then the Killing Gods and Tie Jian, and finally the inner ring of elite protectors.
For anyone else, that would've been suicide.
But this was Ximen Wudi.
He still didn't move. But this time, he tilted his head upward, as if gazing at the stars.
Uncle Li's face changed. "No! The Heaven-Piercing Sword!"His Phantom Demon Hand shot out—blindingly fast—straight toward Tu Hong's skull.
Not to strike him, but to shield him.
Too late.
Tu Hong grunted. Blood burst from the top of his head and jetted out his lower jaw. A perfect hole bored through from crown to throat.
Blood and brain matter oozed from his mouth as his hand reached up, trying to plug the leak.
"…Fuck… What'd I do?" he murmured, and fell over.
Du Xiaoyan screamed, "Uncle Tu!"
Tu Hong had been her protector at Tianping Manor, second only to her own father. He had watched her grow, betrayed his master to save her.
Even when her father died, Du only wept a little. But now Tu Hong too was gone—and with him, her last connection to family.
Overwhelmed with grief, she fainted. Li Xiaoye caught her just in time.
Qin Feng's face darkened. So did San Shao's. Even the Three Killing Gods, usually aloof and lazy, turned grim.
Never before had any of them failed to protect a life entrusted to them.
Yet Ximen Wudi had done it. Effortlessly. Elegantly.
And still—none of them knew how he had done it. Only Uncle Li had shouted: Heaven-Piercing Sword.
"Uncle Li," San Shao growled, eyes blazing with his Shura Demon Sight, "what the hell is the Heaven-Piercing Sword?!"
He had confidence that with those eyes, no trick could escape his sight.
And yet, Ximen Wudi had just killed Tu Hong—and he had seen nothing.
San Shao had never suffered such humiliation in his life…