The situation was dire. Everyone felt a chill run down their spines, knowing full well that this youth would not allow any of them to escape and spread the news before he ascended to their mansion. The mere thought of this outcome left them all frozen in terror—this was a massacre, and most of those present were doomed to perish.
“Fight him with everything we’ve got!” someone roared, activating their treasure artifact as streaks of radiant light erupted, illuminating the courtyard with dazzling glyphs. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful, but in the next instant—*crack!*—the sound of shattering treasure echoed through the air, followed by a scream as one of their own was stomped down from mid-air by Shi Hao.
“Old Ninth, you—!” The others were both shocked and furious. The man who had been trampled was one of their key members, yet he had been the first to attempt escape, urging the rest to charge while he tried to flee. In a life-or-death crisis, they should have stood united, but witnessing such betrayal in their moment of despair sent a cold wave through their hearts.
Now, their resolve wavered even more. Faced with the demonic silhouette of the youth, they could only grit their teeth and unleash their strongest attacks. Some shouted for reinforcements, trying to send word beyond the courtyard, but it was all in vain—the entire area was sealed. Layers of glowing glyphs formed a barrier, isolating them from the outside world. Several formation banners pulsed with light, locking down the very fabric of space.
This was a battle without suspense. Shi Hao, merged with his dark avatar, had forged an indestructible golden body, his combat prowess rivaling that of a mighty marquis!
Outside the Tiger Gate Inn, reinforcements arrived—elite warriors from the Martial Prince’s Mansion, drawn by the sounds of battle.
“Has anything gone wrong?” Shi Ziming, a cousin of Shi Ziteng, asked with concern. He knew all too well how extraordinary that youth was. Seeing the Rain Clan’s cavalry stationed outside but not entering, he grew uneasy. “Follow me inside!”
The Martial Prince’s Mansion and the Rain Clan were close allies, bound by marriage, so his words immediately spurred them into action.
The moment they stepped deeper into the inn, they sensed something amiss—the metallic tang of blood hung in the air. As they neared the courtyard, they were stunned to find a massive formation glowing ominously.
“Break the formation together!” Shi Ziming commanded.
With a collective roar, they unleashed their power, surging divine light crashing against the courtyard. But just as they attacked, the formation banners were withdrawn, revealing the gruesome scene within.
The ground was drenched in blood. The Rain Clan’s warriors lay lifeless, their corpses strewn across the courtyard.
“Yu Mu!” someone cried out in shock.
Only one figure remained standing—Yu Mu, a renowned warrior of the Rain Clan, a veteran of the Hundred Clans Battlefield. The cavalry surrounding the inn were his elite troops. Yet now, he was disheveled, exerting every ounce of strength, unleashing all his techniques—only to be crushed beneath a single palm from the youth, half his body buried in the earth.
“He is—!” Yu Mu turned, shouting desperately, but before he could finish—*thud!*—blood gushed from his mouth as the force shattered his bones, burying him completely.
Terror gripped the onlookers. Yu Mu was a true powerhouse, a survivor of the Hundred Clans Battlefield! Yet he had been effortlessly crushed like an insect.
“What a ruthless youth,” Shi Ziming spat. “You’ve slaughtered nearly a dozen lives—you truly are a demon!”
“Still clinging to your pride?” Shi Hao’s voice was calm, yet it carried an oppressive weight. “You came to kill me, and now you dare call *me* ruthless? Is this the height of shamelessness, or are you simply jesting?”
His mocking words stung, making even the enraged crowd flush with shame—though their fury remained.
“Pathetic,” Shi Hao sneered at the Rain Clan. “No improvement at all. These so-called ‘elites’ weren’t even worth killing.”
The Rain Clan’s eyes burned with rage. Their strongest, including Yu Mu, had stormed in first, expecting backup—yet in mere moments, all had fallen.
No one could see Shi Hao’s expression—his form was wreathed in dark radiance, his battle aura overwhelming. But they could *feel* his disdain, his utter contempt.
“Who *are* you?” Shi Ziming demanded. Yu Mu had tried to reveal something before his death, but only two meaningless words had escaped.
In truth, those present were already trembling, some even considering flight. If Yu Mu had fallen so easily, they stood no chance, no matter their numbers.
“Go reunite with them in the afterlife,” Shi Hao said coldly, stepping forward—straight toward Shi Ziming.
By blood, this man was a distant uncle. But now, kinship meant nothing. If Shi Ziming knew his identity and had the power, he would strike without hesitation.
Shi Hao soared into the air, a metallic-black figure of cold indifference, wielding a massive banner. With a sweep—*boom!*—the heavens seemed to shift, thunder roaring as wind howled.
*Thud!* Shi Ziming coughed blood, staggering back. The sight was horrifying—a single clash, and a Martial Prince’s elite was wounded.
“A marquis?!” That was the only explanation. No ordinary warrior could be this terrifying.
Shi Hao said nothing, his gaze sweeping over them before he struck again. He had no desire to slaughter them all like a demon, but the leaders would not escape.
“Attack together!” Shi Ziming bellowed. This foe was beyond any one of them—only a united front could hope to prevail.
But Shi Hao gave them no chance. He had no time to waste.
Ten heavenly passages opened, warping space as radiant glyphs surged forth like a tide. The air itself solidified, freezing Shi Ziming and the other leaders in place.
Absolute suppression. No hope of escape.
*Thud! Thud! Thud!*
In a flash, heads rolled. Shi Ziming and the others fell, lifeless.
The remaining cavalry reeled in shock. The battle had ended almost as soon as it began. Even seasoned warriors trembled.
“Kill!” A few brave souls, true death warriors, charged despite their fear.
A sword gleam flashed—*slice!*—and they were bisected, collapsing in pools of blood.
“The Rain Clan will never let you go!” someone shouted, though his voice quavered.
Shi Hao flicked a finger. A blossom of blood sprouted from the man’s forehead as he toppled backward.
“No need for the Rain Clan to hunt me,” Shi Hao said coldly. “I’ll go to *them* and demand answers.”
With that, he strode away.
News of the Tiger Gate Inn massacre spread like wildfire, drawing crowds to the scene. Shock rippled through the onlookers—who *was* this youth, daring to slaughter Martial Prince’s men and defy the Rain Clan so brazenly?
But even as the Rain Clan’s forces crumbled, a rider had already fled to deliver the news—though none could outpace Shi Hao.
Without revealing his true Kun Peng technique, he invoked an incomplete version, golden wings of light manifesting at his back as he streaked across the imperial capital, arriving swiftly before the Rain Clan’s estate.
The mansion was grand—lofty gates, majestic stone beasts flanking the entrance, all exuding power and prestige. Though the Great Demonic God had ravaged it before, the Rain Clan had rebuilt it even more magnificently.
Gray-red walls, pale-gold tiles—it resembled a fortress, fortified with countless glyphs and formations.
Standing before it, Shi Hao’s memories surged. The Rain Clan had earned nothing but his contempt. From the actions of Shi Yi’s mother to their relentless pursuit of his family, their arrogance and cruelty had left deep scars.
Years ago, when his father Shi Ziling fled the capital with him, the Rain Clan had sent assassins, nearly wiping them out. They had even used a divine decree in their attempt, leaving his father grievously wounded.
And even now, they hunted him, attacking even his decoy in the Second Ancestral Land. Their philosophy—*better to kill the innocent than let the guilty escape*—filled him with fury.
“Never mind the grudges from Mount Never-End or the Void God Realm,” Shi Hao muttered. “Just for targeting my grandfather, you will pay.”
He had no mercy left. Only battle-lust.
“Who are you? Move! This is no place for the likes of you!” the gatekeepers barked, seeing him linger.
Ignoring them, Shi Hao raised a hand—a colossal black palm materialized, crashing down upon the grand gate.
*BOOM!*
Despite the protective formations, the gate shattered under his might, collapsing in a thunderous roar that shook the entire street.
Gasps erupted from the bystanders. First the Great Demonic God, and now *this*? Who dared to strike the Rain Clan’s gates so boldly?
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