Dugu Hongjian leaned closer, lips curling into a cold grin. "Your Excellency, the crowd's all gathered in the square. Should we light the fuse?"
"Du Gongfu" nodded slightly. His gaze swept toward Lianzhou Fenghua. "Patriarch Lianzhou, your daughter is still down there. Perhaps you should call her up—"
"No need," Lianzhou Fenghua cut in with a sneer. "Daughters are currency. I thought she might still do something useful for me, but clearly, she's chosen outsiders over family. Such a daughter—better off dead."
"Du Gongfu" chuckled. "My, such harsh words. You lack generosity, Patriarch."
"And you," Fenghua shot back, his eyes gleaming with poison, "are no gentleman. A true man does not shy away from cruelty."
The figures gathered on the raised platform all burst into low, knowing laughter—sinister, self-assured, without fear or shame.
Below, Qin Ren and the others—no longer the center of condemnation—watched the "righteous leaders" grinning like devils, and the absurdity of it all struck them hard.
"Are they insane?" Qin Ren muttered. "They're laughing at a time like this?"
"They're playing with fire," said Qiao Wei calmly. "That fake Du Gongfu doesn't even bother to defend himself—he's laughing with his co-conspirators like nothing matters. That won't sit well with the crowd."
"Unless…" Uncle Li's voice was grim, "they have a much bigger move prepared. Otherwise, they wouldn't be smiling like lechers at a brothel."
At that moment, "Du Gongfu" raised a hand and fired a signal arrow. It streaked into the sky and exploded with a boom, releasing a massive firework that bloomed into the shape of a giant skull.
Qiao Wei's face darkened. "The Demon Sect's signal."
Qin Ren frowned. "Seriously? A skull? Couldn't they have picked something with more taste? Like an axe. That'd look way cooler."
As soon as he finished speaking, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble violently. A deep rumbling rolled through the earth. The white stone tiles cracked and split; fire and smoke burst from the fissures. A wave of sulfur and gunpowder stung their noses.
"It's a trap—explosives!" Uncle Li shouted, just as the first massive explosion erupted.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Deafening detonations rocked the entire square. Flames shot skyward, rocks and debris exploded outward. The earth caved inward before bursting upward again, blasting the martial crowd into a storm of blood and body parts.
Screams were drowned beneath the thunderous blasts. Hundreds of warriors—heroes of the so-called righteous path—were torn to pieces, their skills useless against the sheer magnitude of destruction.
A few lightfoot experts leapt skyward—but the shattered stone slabs, now as deadly as blades, ripped through them mid-air. Blood rained down. The once-proud martial artists died like insects beneath a god's wrath.
Even before the first explosion had fully echoed, Qin Lei roared. His Thunder Blade crackled with blue lightning as he slammed it into the ground, shattering the stone and creating a massive pit nearly fifteen meters wide.
As the firestorm erupted from below, Qin Feng stepped forward, pointing at the heart of the crater. A sword wind howled from his fingers, slamming into the rising inferno.
Qin Ren followed instantly. Riding the sword wind, he launched a thunderous palm strike. Golden energy surged forth, merging with the sword force, creating a massive whirlwind that temporarily held back the deadly blast.
Then Qiao Wei and Uncle Li struck together, each delivering a palm to the crater, forcing it deeper—another twenty feet down. Together, they created a three-story-deep pit.
The team leapt in—Qin Ren, his brothers Qin Lei and Qin Feng, the Three Killing Gods, Qiao Wei, Uncle Li, Iron Jian, Iron Xuanxuan, Lianzhou Luor, Qin Ni'er, Zhen Luo, Li Xiaoye, and Du Xiaoyan—fifteen total. The men formed a protective ring around the women, deflecting falling debris with bursts of energy and martial skill.
Others nearby noticed the pit and tried to follow—but the entire field was rigged. Explosions continued. Most were torn apart mid-stride. A few made it halfway before being shredded by flying debris. Only three managed to reach the pit's edge—only two survived the final jump.
One of the unlucky ones, his screams drowned out by the thunder, was mistaken for a falling boulder. Uncle Li swatted him from the air, turning him into red mist.
The two survivors stood battered and burned, clothes in tatters, bodies riddled with cuts.
Grinning sheepishly, one bowed low. "I am Zhao Yingyue, Pavilion Master of Blowing Snow Pavilion. Much obliged, young lords. Incidentally… my junior sister is Ye Yingxue of the Southern Snow Hall—you and she, well, had that... unforgettable evening."
The implication hung in the air.
The other introduced himself quickly. "Lu Feihong, Master of the Wind & Moon Hall. A pleasure to meet you all…"
The explosions continued above, though the fury had waned. Falling debris was now easily handled by Qiao Wei and Uncle Li.
Qin Ren dusted himself off. "No need for formalities. We're all lucky to be alive."
Then he turned to Lu Feihong, grinning. "I've heard your Wind & Moon Hall makes the best tonics and, well… stimulants. Especially for men. Isn't that right, Master Lu?"
Lu Feihong, ever the merchant, quickly pulled out three ceramic vials. "Our finest formula—one pill lasts an entire month! Guaranteed—"
"Enough!" Qin Ren snapped righteously, snatching the vials. "You think I need this?! At my age?! Ridiculous!" He slipped the vials into his robe with practiced ease.
Inwardly, he smirked: Never hurts to have some on hand. Could make a nice gift. Or maybe—just maybe—if I overdo it one day... well, who knows?
Above, the final explosions faded, replaced by the moans of the dying.
Qin Feng's face was stone. "The righteous martial world of the Empire… has been annihilated."
Qin Lei nodded grimly. "It was the Demon Sect all along. And we were too late to stop them."
Qiao Wei sighed. "That bastard Du Gongfu… always praised as a just man. But he was a devil in disguise. Without his name and reputation, none of the major sects would've gathered so blindly. He was the perfect puppet master."
As the echoes faded, the group climbed out of the pit—and froze.
The square was a vision of hell.
The field had sunken nearly ten feet. All the surrounding stages—except for the main platform—were reduced to rubble. The once-pristine plaza was now a graveyard of stone and bone.
Not a single corpse remained intact. Blood painted every rock, every inch of earth. Limbs lay scattered. The largest fragment was half a thigh. Meat clung to shattered tiles. Organs littered the ground, twitching. Intestines wrapped around stones like grotesque garlands.
The air reeked of blood, sulfur, and burnt flesh.
Lianzhou Luor and the other women turned pale and doubled over, retching uncontrollably.
Even Zhao Yingyue—his name more feminine than most women—was vomiting like a drunk courtesan. Qin Ren stepped back in disgust as bile splattered his shoe.
He kicked Zhao cleanly back into the pit.