It was over.
All of Huang Guinian's fury and unwillingness froze into utter despair under Yu Zhongxu's silent look of approval.
Even the White Fish Society silently endorsed—or even agreed with—Yang Cheng's actions. What right did the Huang clan have to question anything?
A wave of crushing hopelessness instantly engulfed him.
The pillar of the Huang clan buckled even further, his hunched back curling down, and he let out a desolate sigh.
"Lord Yang Cheng."
His voice was hoarse and dry, filled with the bitterness of resignation. "You killed He Rongping to make an example—to warn me."
"What happened today… it's because I'm old and foolish. I was blind and brought it on myself. These eyes of mine are useless. They can't tell truth from falsehood, right from wrong. Keeping them would only cause more harm."
Under the horrified gazes of the entire hall, Huang Guinian suddenly raised his withered, bony hands.
"Let me use them… to apologize to Your Excellency! Please calm your anger!"
Before he finished speaking, his hooked index and middle fingers, carrying a terrifying resolve, plunged without hesitation straight into his deeply sunken eye sockets.
Splurt!
A bone-chilling muffled sound rang out.
Blood gushed out like two screaming fountains from the hollow voids of his eyes, instantly staining his graying beard and hair crimson.
"Grandfather!"
Huang Yuan let out a heart-wrenching, piercing scream.
His eyes turned bloodshot in a flash, and all the humiliation he had swallowed exploded into a burning hatred that nearly destroyed his reason. He glared at Yang Cheng with venomous resentment.
"You bastard! Who gave you the right to look directly at Lord Yang Cheng?!"
But the newly-blinded Huang Guinian suddenly roared.
Relying on his senses alone, he turned sharply toward Huang Yuan's direction.
"Kneel! Kneel right now!"
"Get down and kowtow to Lord Yang Cheng!"
"Beg for his forgiveness!"
"Now!"
Each scream was hoarse, desperate, filled with raw survival instinct.
After witnessing He Rongping reduced to nothing in an instant, how could he allow Huang Yuan to show even a sliver of hatred toward Yang Cheng?
That would only drag the entire Huang clan into an abyss beyond redemption.
He'd gouged out his own eyes as a gruesome gamble—hoping to win a shred of mercy from Yang Cheng.
And now, how could he let Huang Yuan destroy their last chance at survival?
Huang Yuan's entire body trembled. Staring at his grandfather's eye sockets, now two horrific bleeding holes, the surge of terror hit like a bucket of ice water. It instantly crushed the flames of hatred.
All that resentment and bitterness became laughably weak and pathetic in the face of the family's possible annihilation.
Thud!
His knees gave out, as if his entire frame had lost support. He collapsed to the ground, forehead smashing against the floor still stained with He Rongping's blood.
"L-Lord Yang Cheng… I was blind! I deserve to die! Please… please spare the Huang clan. Spare my grandfather…"
His voice cracked, every word soaked in humiliation so deep it cut to the bone.
Suffocating.
Utter suffocation.
The banquet hall fell into dead silence.
You could hear a pin drop. The only sounds were the muffled thud-thud of Huang Yuan's forehead slamming against the ground, and the heavy, pained breathing of Huang Guinian as he endured the searing agony.
Just moments ago, Yang Cheng had seemed like prey trapped by the Huang, He, Lu, and even Lin clans—all the southern powers closing in on him, leaving him surrounded on all sides.
Even with He Rongping stepping in, it hadn't changed the oppressive sense of a pack of wolves encircling their target.
But in the blink of an eye, everything flipped.
He Rongping was swatted into blood mist by Yang Cheng's casual palm, not even bones left behind.
The Huang clan's ancestor, the Yin God realm powerhouse Huang Guinian, had gouged out his own eyes, blood spraying everywhere.
The Huang clan's heir, Huang Yuan, knelt like a stray dog, head to the floor, sobbing for forgiveness.
This upheaval hit like a violent hurricane, sweeping everyone up and smashing their minds into blank numbness.
Lin Feng, Song Shuyue, and the others stared at the unbelievable scene in front of them, frozen as if in a bizarre, twisted dream. They were so shocked they even forgot to breathe.
Moments ago, they had been worried for Yang Cheng. Now, only boundless awe and confusion remained.
Lin Xiaotian's face was ashen. A regret deeper than he had ever felt in his life gnawed into his chest like a venomous snake, leaving him breathless.
He remembered how Song Shuyue had repeatedly described Yang Cheng's unbelievable feats in the Wasteland Realm. He remembered how Lin Shu spoke of His Highness with deep reverence and admiration.
And what had he done? He had scoffed at them. He'd dismissed it all as foolish exaggeration from naïve women, thinking they were just hyping up Yang Cheng to gain his approval as the Lin clan head.
How ridiculous. How stupid.
Now, the brutal truth was slapping him across the face harder than anything else ever had.
Song Shuyue and Lin Shu's "praise"?
No—it had been cold, hard truth.
In fact, even their words hadn't come close to describing the tip of the iceberg that was Yang Cheng.
Someone so young… yet casually able to annihilate a fifth-level Insight God like He Rongping in an instant—what did that mean?
It meant Yang Cheng was at least at the peak of the Insight God realm, maybe even touching the threshold of the Yin God realm.
What kind of monstrous talent was that?
And that wasn't even counting his backing—the clearly supportive Chen clan—and the major western power, the White Fish Society, whose Third Elder Yu Zhongxu had personally stood behind him.
That kind of backing and potential would drive any faction mad with envy.
The Lin clan could have secured a bond with Yang Cheng through Lin Shu—an unparalleled connection to this future giant. They could have ridden this wind of change and soared to unimaginable heights.
But all of it… all of it was destroyed by his own short-sightedness, his pride, and his pathetic sense of family dignity.
He had personally thrown away a blessing so immense it could overturn their destiny.
The regret drowned him like a tidal wave. He wanted nothing more than to turn back time and slap himself awake.
Yang Cheng looked down at the kowtowing Huang Yuan with indifferent eyes.
"Begging me for forgiveness? You still don't get it."
"I was never the one going after you."
"You were the ones too blind to see death when it came knocking. You provoked me. You tried to take me down."
He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away flies.
"Get lost."
"As long as you don't show up and dirty my eyes again, I don't have the time or the interest to deal with people like you."
That light, careless "get lost" struck Huang Guinian's ears like heavenly music.
As humiliating as it was, it meant Yang Cheng was finally letting go.
"Thank you, Lord Yang Cheng, for your great mercy."
Huang Guinian forced himself to bear the pain and replied hoarsely.
Huang Yuan, as if receiving a royal pardon, stopped kowtowing, but didn't dare lift his head. He scrambled from the blood-soaked floor, hands and knees trembling.
He carefully supported his unsteady grandfather.
Then, under the gaze of countless eyes, without daring to even glance back at Yang Cheng, the two of them staggered out of the grand hall.