When the name Lou Shiring was mentioned, along with a decades-old grudge from an intercepted carriage—an incident Yang Qiushuang had never spoken of—and when he read the intelligence report’s assessment that she planned to attend the meeting alone the next day, a faint, almost imperceptible ripple finally disturbed the still waters of Xia Wuyang’s Heart Lake. He could not leave this matter to others.
Yang Qiushuang!
She was always quiet, with a cool gaze and a delicate beauty that could topple nations. She had tried to get close to him time and again during his most violent moods. But after he repeatedly rebuked her, she would always retreat, keeping her distance. For decades, it had been like this, as if she were an invisible woman.
He had almost forgotten what she looked like, only remembering that she seemed to be skilled at needlework and had made him many clothes back then.
As if guided by some unseen force, he pulled up more records about Yang Qiushuang’s years in the palace, learning more about her.
When he saw the brief description—"Fifth Class Attendant Yang of Ningshuang Pavilion lives a quiet, reclusive life. Her only notable activity is that every season of every year, she personally sews men’s clothing. The size and style remain unchanged. This has continued for decades without interruption, costing her entire stipend. Over several hundred garments have accumulated in her storage."—Xia Wuyang fell silent for a moment.
’Were all those clothes made for him?’
An extremely complex, indescribable emotion flashed through the depths of his heart, making him feel as if he was losing control.
It was a mix of shame, regret, and a cold, clear realization.
She was one of his concubines. Even if he hadn’t cared for her, he would never allow an outsider to humiliate her to this extent. And what’s more, he now cared a great deal.
’Lou Shiring?’
’The Iron Mountain Sect?’
’A bunch of ants who don’t know the difference between life and death. They dare to extend their claws toward the Eastern Palace, toward one of my people. They’re practically begging for death.’
’If I’m going to make an example of them, I’ll be thorough. I’ll leave no room for doubt and ensure nothing like this ever happens again.’
’I won’t just destroy the Lou Family. I’ll uproot their foundation and make everyone see the terrible price for touching someone who once belonged to the Eastern Palace. Then they won’t dare to act so recklessly in the future.’
His gaze, like a blade locked in ice for ten thousand years, swept over the main hall of the Lou Mansion below, where music and dancing still lingered. It passed over the mansion’s visible and hidden lookouts before finally settling on the Southwest of White Jade City. That was where the Iron Mountain Sect’s main gate was located, and where most of its upper echelon resided.
The operation would be tonight. There was no need to wait.
「At midnight」
The banquet at the Lou Mansion finally came to an end.
Lou Shiring, completely drunk, staggered toward the most luxurious master bedroom in the rear courtyard, supported by two beautiful concubines, ready to enjoy himself some more.
The servants began to clean up the mess. The yawning Mansion Guards changed shifts. The entire estate gradually fell silent, leaving only the monotonous sound of the night watchman’s clapper and footsteps, no different from any other night.
Just as Lou Shiring stepped into his bedroom, as his concubines began to undress him, and as he was lost in sweet dreams of the pleasures tomorrow would bring...
A figure in black appeared as if from thin air, standing in the center of his bedroom. The figure watched him with indifference, as if looking at an ant.
"Who’s there?!" The shout sobered Lou Shiring up instantly. He instinctively reached for the ornamental sword hanging by his bed, intending to use it against the intruder.
The two beautiful concubines, their faces pale with fright, screamed and dared not move an inch closer.
The visitor didn’t speak. He simply raised his right hand, fingers spread, and made a gentle clenching motion in Lou Shiring’s direction, as if crushing a fly.
"CRACK... CRUNCH..."
A sickening sound, like bones being crushed inch by inch by an invisible, immense force, erupted in the silent room, despite the distance between the two men.
Lou Shiring’s small, lecherous eyes bulged instantly. The smug flush on his face turned to a deathly gray. His fat body collapsed as if all its bones had been removed, slumping softly to the ground. He died in extreme agony without managing to let out a single complete scream, his life extinguished.
Even in death, he never understood what kind of being he had provoked, or why he had died. He could not rest in peace.
The screams of the two concubines cut off abruptly, as if they were chickens with their necks wrung. Their eyes rolled back in their heads as they fainted.
The figure in black didn’t even glance at the corpse on the floor. With a flicker, he vanished from the room.
The two concubines weren’t good people either; he had crushed them underfoot on his way out.
What followed was a purge of such chilling efficiency that not a single villain was spared.
There were no earth-shattering battles, no fierce resistance. In the face of absolute Power, the enemy was completely helpless.
The figure moved like the most professional of Death Gods, gliding through the pavilions, corridors, and courtyards of the Lou Mansion, leaving no corner untouched.
Wherever he passed, Lou Shiring’s direct descendants, the stewards who acted as his enablers, the wicked servants who aided his tyranny, and even the trusted confidants who knew his core secrets and were in close contact with the Iron Mountain Sect... without exception, all of them were killed, dead beyond dead.
Their deaths varied. Some had their heart meridians shattered by invisible, Powerful Qi. Some were pierced between the eyebrows by a subtle sliver of Sword Qi. Others had their very Souls erased... But they all had one thing in common: their deaths were fast, precise, and silent, as if nothing had happened at all.
In the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, everyone in the core area of the Lou Mansion who needed to be "cleaned up" had been turned into a cooling corpse, never to do evil again.
The faint scent of blood began to spread, but most areas remained quiet. Many servants were still fast asleep, completely unaware of the silent massacre that had just occurred right beside them. These were the ones who had done nothing wrong.
Xia Wuyang’s figure appeared on the highest roof of the Lou Mansion. He took out the key evidence he had found in a hidden compartment in Lou Shiring’s study—ledgers, secret letters, and other records of dealings with the Iron Mountain Sect. There was quite a lot of it.
Then, looking down at the mansion that had just been baptized in death and was now filled with corpses, he formed a sword-finger and slashed through the air.
Streaks of incredibly condensed Sword Qi shot through the air, striking with precision at key buildings like the treasury, the accounting office, and Lou Shiring’s master bedroom—the most important structures in the Lou Family estate.
There was no explosion, no flash of fire. Instead, the structures of those buildings, as if destroyed from within by an unseen force, let out low groans and slowly collapsed, kicking up clouds of dust that filled the sky.
The commotion finally roused the other people in the mansion, and they all began to wake up.
Terrified screams, cries, and the sound of running feet suddenly shattered the night’s tranquility. The entire Lou Family mansion erupted into chaos.
Xia Wuyang lingered no longer. His form blurred into a faint, almost invisible shadow that melted into the night. He sped off toward the Southwest—his next destination, the Iron Mountain Sect.
Lou Shiring and the Lou Family were merely dogs of the Iron Mountain Sect. So what if he had dealt with them? It wasn’t enough to be considered "cutting the weeds and digging up the roots," nor was it enough of a warning to all those who coveted the Eastern Palace.
He had to destroy the Iron Mountain Sect as well. Only then would it truly be cutting the weeds and digging up the roots. Only then would those with ill intentions toward the Eastern Palace learn their lesson and not dare to lay a hand on its people ever again.

Comments

Loading...