Zuh Qil's gaze locked on Yang Zhai, his eyes cold and devoid of warmth. There was no need for words—the weight in that stare alone was enough. Both Mil Do Nim and Yang Zhai understood the unspoken message instantly.
"Master, Mil Do Nim and I were merely taking a stroll," Yang Zhai blurted out, his tone hurried and tinged with panic, as if scrambling to cover a crime not yet accused.
But Zuh Qil's eyes didn't flicker. Instead, he let his gaze roam over their surroundings with cold calm.
Mil Do Nim followed that gaze, and in an instant, the implication struck him like a blade. Who in their right mind would wander this far from the sect into such a secluded, silent forest—and with someone they had just met? And why is Yang Zhai's anxiety spilling from every pore? His darting eyes, his twitching voice—it all screams guilt. Is that idiot trying to get us caught?! In Mil Do Nim's mind, the picture was clear: this fool was all but confessing through his expression alone. If Zuh Qil still failed to see the obvious, then he was either blind… or truly deserving of betrayal.
Yang Zhai's nervousness deepened, his fear etched plainly across his face like cracks in porcelain.
Then, without a word, Zuh Qil stepped forward—but not toward Yang Zhai. His hand shot out, iron-strong fingers clamping around Mil Do Nim's neck. The pressure was immediate, crushing, the grip tightening with every passing breath.
Mil Do Nim's hands flew to Zuh Qil's wrist, both of them straining to pry it away, but his strength was like trying to bend steel. He kicked and thrashed, but Zuh Qil lifted him effortlessly into the air as if he weighed nothing at all.
Air deserted Mil Do Nim's lungs, the world beginning to blur. Desperation fueled his flailing strikes, his fists hammering against Zuh Qil's arm. But with every blow, his power ebbed rather than grew, draining away like water through a cracked jar.
"Still fighting… even now," Yang Zhai thought grimly.
Zuh Qil's left hand rose, fingers curling with precision. With his index and middle finger, he seized a lock of Mil Do Nim's hair and yanked—hard. Pain exploded in Mil Do Nim's skull as strands tore free, blood beading where skin had ripped. He wanted to scream, but Zuh Qil's grip on his neck crushed the very sound from him, leaving only silent agony in his expression. His eyes reddened, veins bulging, as if they might burst from sheer pressure.
Yet Mil Do Nim endured—he was, after all, a body cultivator, and a rare talent among rank 5 cultivators. People having 170 bulls' strength were considered extremely rare talents, not to mention the ones having the strength that equaled more than 190 bulls. But endurance did not mean immunity to pain. Pain still burned through him like molten iron.
Still not enough, Yang Zhai thought coldly. Perhaps a reminder will loosen his tongue.
"Master… please forgive him," Yang Zhai suddenly spoke up, his voice a plea. "It has nothing to do with him. Please…"
The sound jolted Mil Do Nim's mind like lightning striking a tree. He had been so consumed by his own life-and-death struggle that he had forgotten Yang Zhai was even there. But the reminder snapped him back to reality.
Yang Zhai… That's right! This isn't my fault. Why should I be the one to suffer? If I stay silent, Zuh Qil will kill me. Those eyes—cold as a frozen lake—radiate nothing but murderous intent. He means to kill me slowly. No! I need to save myself. That fool can fend for himself.
Unable to speak, Mil Do Nim abandoned his punches. Instead, he tapped Zuh Qil's shoulder with urgency, his eyes conveying a desperate message.
Zuh Qil paused, watching him for a moment, then released his grip. Mil Do Nim collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as if he had surfaced from deep underwater. His chest heaved violently, drool mingling with sweat as he panted, the bliss of breath feeling like heaven itself.
"Wait! Wait…" he rasped between gulps of air, hands flailing to buy time. "It… wasn't… me… it… it was him! H-he's the one… who wanted… to rebel. I… I refused… I swear. Please… don't misunderstand."
There it is, Yang Zhai thought with an inward smile. Even without using a technique, this will do. Sacrifices must sometimes be made for greater gains.
Zuh Qil's response was swift—a kick to Mil Do Nim's face. Not enough to kill, but more than enough to humiliate. His eyes then shifted toward Yang Zhai, burning with a fury so intense it was almost tangible. Even Mil Do Nim, nursing his own fear, shuddered at that gaze.
Though Zuh Qil's current strength fell short of his peak, he was still the Last One—his killing intent alone was enough to pierce bone. Even a fraction of it sent icy shivers crawling along the spine.
Mil Do Nim quickly averted his gaze, an instinctive gesture of survival. I cannot provoke him, he thought. This man is something beyond ordinary. Why…why does he feel inhuman?
Yang Zhai, on the other hand, was no ordinary person himself. To him, this level of killing intent was nothing. Even so, he fell down on his knees. His eyes quivered, and his limbs trembled.
Zuh Qil stepped forward and seized Yang Zhai by the collar. A punch came suddenly—ferocious, unrestrained—slamming his face into the ground so hard that it bounced. Blood sprayed as Yang Zhai's head reeled. His face was cut, bruised, but the damage was less than it originally seemed. Four blue lines glowed faintly in his body, toughening his body and reducing blow's lethality. Still, pain travelled through him.
Shaking his head as if to clear the dizziness, Yang Zhai saw Zuh Qil's foot pressing down—hard—on his left elbow.
Pressure increased under Zuh Qil's foot. A sickening sound—like branches snapping—preceded the inevitable.
CRACK!
A scream tore through the forest, sharp and raw.
Mil Do Nim's eyes widened, his face darkening, he thought. He is too ruthless! He shattered his elbow bone without hesitation, rendering his arm useless.
Then Zuh Qil turned. His eyes locked on Mil Do Nim, and he froze, his fear so palpable it was as though the temperature had dropped.
Zuh Qil's steps toward him were slow, as if deliberate—like he was giving Mil Do Nim enough time.
Mil Do Nim staggered up, intending to flee, but his legs trembled violently and he collapsed to the ground.
"Don't come near me!" he shouted, voice cracking.
Zuh Qil kept walking.
"Mil Do Nim! Run! He's going to break both your arms!" Yang Zhai called out.
The words only deepened Mil Do Nim's terror.
No… I can't die here! He's a monster! If he could destroy the arm of someone who served him for years without hesitation, then I am nothing to him!
Mil Do Nim's panic flared into action. With trembling hands and desperate will, he unleashed a rank 5 technique.
!|!*****!*****!|!