San Shao and Qin Lei launched their lightness techniques and vanished like a gust of wind into the alley's depths.
The deeper they ran, the clearer the girl's cries for help became—her voice interwoven with the swift, sharp slicing of air from elite martial movement.
Turning a sharp left at the alley's end, the two brothers witnessed a scene so vile it could curdle blood under broad daylight.
A young girl had her back to them. Her trouser leg was torn at the left calf, exposing a porcelain-pale ankle now smeared with crimson. She stumbled forward, barely able to move, each step leaving behind a ghastly streak of blood.
Trailing behind her were three men dressed in black, each with a lecherous face so disgusting it could make a monk swear. They toyed with her using qinggong—sometimes darting ahead to grope her, sometimes circling to tear away another piece of her clothes, and other times flipping her over like some cruel game of cat and mouse.
Her garments were already shredded in several places, revealing patches of snow-white, delicate skin. As she hobbled away, wailing for help, the three perverts laughed, treating her torment as their amusement.
Qin Lei's fury erupted. His blade-like brows slashed upward as he inhaled and roared, voice thunderous:
"YOU BASTARDS! Your granddaddy is here, and you dare commit such filth in his presence? Halt now, or I'll slice you mongrels into dog feed!"
His voice cracked like thunder on a dry plain, shaking the very stones beneath their feet.
San Shao frowned, waited until the roar ended, then calmly pulled two wads of cotton from his ears. He grinned, "Lucky I had the foresight to plug up. Those three clowns… not so lucky."
Sure enough, Qin Lei's yell had struck the trio like a bolt from heaven. They froze mid-motion, warily turning to face the newcomers. One of them even had blood leaking from his ear canal.
"Who the hell are you to interrupt our fun?" the bleeding man growled, dabbing at his ear with a cotton ball.
The girl, finally sensing salvation, turned tearfully toward the brothers. "Please, heroes, save me—they… they…" Her voice broke as she collapsed into sobs.
And then Qin Ren saw her.
His heart thundered wildly, pounding like a war drum. What kind of girl was this? How could mere words define her beauty?
Xiao Xiangyue lacked her charm. Liu Piaopiao had no such grace. Lianzhou Luo'er fell short of her spirit. Qin Nier couldn't match her tender melody. Even Qiu Ruomei's melancholy beauty paled beside this girl's tragic radiance.
Not even Hua Linglong—who could rival a goddess in serenity and a tigress in wrath—could compare in temperament. Though their features were similarly exquisite, this girl evoked something deeper: the instinctual desire in a man to protect, to cherish.
She couldn't have been more than fourteen—still blooming, her face bearing traces of childish innocence, yet her gaze shimmered with a nation-toppling allure that could drive men to war.
Petite even by southern standards, she looked like the type a man would want to shield from all harm, nestle in the heart, treasure in the palm. Though not voluptuous, her growing curves promised beauty to come, the delicate blueprint of future temptation.
But now—drenched in tears, trembling with pain—she stirred a fury in San Shao that raged like hellfire.
How dare they torment such a girl? Even a rogue should have standards! San Shao had done many things—some he wouldn't say aloud—but he'd never skinned the soul of a woman like this.
These "flower thieves"? He wouldn't share a latrine with them. He would cleanse their filth with blood.
Qin Lei, unaware of his brother's storming thoughts, clenched his jaw at the sight of the injured girl. A man of thunderous temper and a righteous heart, he reached for the hilt of his blade, ready to strike.
But a hand stopped him.
He turned—San Shao.
Though his heart burned with slaughter, San Shao's face betrayed nothing. He even wore a faint smile… a chillingly familiar one.
It was the same mocking smirk worn by their elder brother, Qin Feng—the Sword Saint of the Galaxy.
"Second Brother," San Shao said softly, "let me."
Qin Lei understood. That smile… it was a death sentence.
San Shao strode forward. His gaze flicked over the three black-clad men like a cold blade in moonlight. The corner of his lips curled, revealing sharp, snow-white canines. "You three… have done quite the 'deed'."
The lechers shivered as though plunged into an icy lake.
In his eyes, they saw frozen plains… blood-soaked earth… skies ablaze… mountains of white bones… and atop it all, a wild figure with blood-red hands, hair like a storm cloud, laughing madly into the void.
That was no human gaze.
Unconsciously, all three stepped back. Cold sweat drenched their backs, their shirts sticking to their spines.
Regret surged through them. Regret for taking this mission. Regret for ever setting foot on this stage before him.
But they had no choice but to pretend bravery. One man dared step forward and asked, "Who… are you?"
His voice shook.
San Shao laughed. Cold, mad, like a winter gale in summer, a smile sharp enough to slice bone.
"You are not… worthy to know."
And with that, he attacked.
Palm of the Shrouded Sky!
This time, both of San Shao's hands rose—covering the heavens.
The three perverts shrieked in horror, recognizing the technique. "The Shrouded Sky Palm!"
They tried to flee—but the palm force had already enveloped them. There was nowhere to run. Every inch of space now held the power to obliterate.
And worse—worse was the illusion.
Within those palms lay phantom whirlpools, invisible yet irresistible. Their minds screamed illusion, but their bodies were being drawn forward—helplessly, inexorably—into the storm.
They struck back, desperately hurling six palms at the approaching apocalypse.
Six streaks of pale force screamed toward the descending sky.
BOOM!
A detonation like thunder cracking open the earth. The ground shook violently—then went silent.
Three bodies were hurled backward, blood trailing in graceful arcs. In mid-air, their arms erupted—from palm to shoulder, bone and flesh disintegrating like paper in fire.
"AVENGE US!" they shrieked before collapsing, lifeless and shattered.
San Shao scoffed, wiping blood from his hand with a silk handkerchief. "Avenge your ass. Who dares?"
Qin Lei stood dumbstruck, unable to believe that his younger brother had wiped out three elite fighters with a single move.
The girl too, was speechless, mouth open, eyes wide—her thoughts a mystery.
San Shao, ever the charmer, snapped open his folding fan with a rustle, flashing his most dazzling smile as he approached the girl.