Yu Zhongxu's words were like the final straw that crushed Lu Canglan's last sliver of resistance.
All his wishful thinking, all his schemes—under the naked, brutal law of the strong—were torn to pieces.
A mouthful of blood surged up his throat. Lu Canglan swallowed it down by force, then bowed deeply to Yang Cheng. "Your Highness Yang Cheng, this old man was confused. My Lu clan is willing to bow and admit our mistake. I humbly beg Your Highness to show mercy and spare my clan."
"Father!"
Lu Ting felt a wave of blood rush straight to his head, his vision darkening.
His son had been crippled by Yang Cheng, and now, not only could they not take revenge, they even had to lower their heads and admit fault?
What kind of world was this? Was there no justice left?
Yang Cheng's gaze, cold like a blade, slowly shifted away from Lu Canglan, who was barely suppressing his humiliation. It finally landed on He Rongping.
"He Rongping."
Yang Cheng's voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly through the deathly quiet banquet hall. "I wiped out the Ouyang clan, and your He clan wants revenge?"
The moment he was named, He Rongping's heart tightened like a clenched fist. A chill instantly spread through his entire body.
He forced himself to stay calm and managed to squeeze out a smile uglier than crying. "Your Highness Yang Cheng, this is a misunderstanding. I spoke poorly earlier, I misspoke. Today, my He clan came only to celebrate Old Master Lin's birthday. While we were at it, we just wanted to pay our respects to a brilliant young hero like you, Your Highness. Nothing more, truly no other intent."
"Misspoke?"
Yang Cheng's lips curled in a mocking arc, and his eyes turned colder. "You think one light excuse of 'misspeaking' is enough to pretend nothing ever happened? Is it your He clan being naive… or do you think I, Yang Cheng, am a fool who can be brushed off that easily?"
The smile froze on He Rongping's face. Deep down, that pride he'd carried as a descendant of an aristocratic clan was instantly scorched by Yang Cheng's contempt.
He bit down, his tone carrying a hint of suppressed bitterness. "Yang Cheng, I've admitted my mistake and explained myself. Why must you push so hard? Can't you just give a man a way out?"
It was like Yang Cheng had just heard the funniest joke. "He Rongping, I don't care whether you're sincere or just faking it. But if you're gonna fake it, at least do it properly—make it look respectful!"
His voice suddenly rose like thunder. "I asked you one question, and already you can't hide your resentment and defiance? Everyone can see clearly now how little sincerity and remorse you really have. I gave you a chance to live, and you still don't know how to take it? You even turn around and blame me for pushing you?"
Yang Cheng's gaze turned entirely frigid, colder than ten thousand years of dark ice, stripped of all emotion. "Trash like you—who doesn't know their place and can't tell what's good for them—deserves to live?"
"You… what do you want then, Yang Cheng?!"
He Rongping's face turned ashen with rage at Yang Cheng's words.
"Nothing special. Just what it sounds like."
Yang Cheng's tone was terrifyingly calm.
Before his voice even fully faded, he made his move.
There was no earth-shaking power, no buildup, no dramatic display.
He just casually raised his right hand. His five fingers spread slightly, and he pressed down gently in He Rongping's direction.
"Buzz!"
The moment his palm moved, countless strands of razor-thin, ultra-condensed sword qi burst into being from thin air.
They swarmed like a disturbed hive of bees, or like destruction rising from the depths of hell. In an instant, they spanned the gap between them and completely engulfed He Rongping.
"Damn it."
He Rongping's pupils shrank to the size of a needle's tip as the shadow of death swallowed him whole.
He let out a furious, panicked roar. The power of his Fifth Layer Insight God realm erupted instinctively, and his protective divine light instantly flared up in an attempt to resist the devastating strike.
But in front of those countless sword qi strands, all condensed with pure slaughter intent, the divine light he had conjured up so hastily was as fragile as thin paper.
"Shrrkkk…"
The sound of intense cutting, sharp enough to make the scalp crawl, rang out.
The protective divine light didn't even last a breath before it shattered like a bubble and vanished.
Next were his clothes, flesh, tendons, bones...
He Rongping's figure, under the violent shredding of the blood-colored sword qi, was like a body thrown into a wild meat grinder.
He didn't even get the chance to scream a complete cry.
A mist of blood exploded.
It didn't spray. It burst like it had been crushed in an instant, turning into a thick, dense crimson fog that refused to disperse.
Flesh chunks, bone fragments, and pieces of organs were wrapped in the rampaging sword qi. It was like a rain of blood falling in a slow drizzle onto the spotless floor, leaving behind horrifying stains.
As for He Rongping—along with the aura of the Fifth Layer Insight God he'd just released—he had completely vanished from the spot, without even a single intact fragment of his corpse left behind.
It was like he had never existed.
"Hiss—"
This time, the sounds of people sucking in breath weren't scattered, but merged into one suffocating wave.
The entire banquet hall fell into an unprecedented stillness, frozen like death.
Everyone was completely shocked by the overwhelming brutality before their eyes.
Dead?
He Rongping, the pride of the younger generation of the He clan, a cultivator at the Fifth Layer of Insight God realm, just died like that?
He couldn't even withstand a single strike from Yang Cheng?
No—this couldn't even be called a strike.
It was just a casual lift and press of Yang Cheng's hand.
A so-called Fifth Layer genius of the Insight God realm, in front of Yang Cheng, really was no more than a chicken or a dog. Not even worth mentioning.
Lu Canglan's gaze toward Yang Cheng was full of terror. Any last shred of hope in his heart was completely extinguished.
Yang Cheng's strength was far beyond what they had imagined.
Huang Gui'nian's face turned even more ashen. His hand gripping the cane was trembling violently.
He Rongping's death was a direct warning.
It made everyone wonder—who would be next?
Lin Jiao, Lin Kun, Lin Xiao, and the other younger members of the Lin clan were left breathless.
They were clearly older than Yang Cheng, yet they now felt like they lived in an entirely different world.
Lin Qing suddenly looked up and locked her gaze tightly on Yang Cheng.
She had always held herself in high regard, believing only a peerless genius could match her. She had never considered Huang Yuan worthy of her. That was why she pushed for Huang Yuan to marry Lin Shu instead.
Now, looking at Yang Cheng's calm, nearly indifferent side profile, her heart suddenly skipped. Her eyes were burning with desire.
"Yang Cheng, you…"
Huang Gui'nian was trembling all over, his voice shaky from rage.
He wanted to scold him, to yell, to demand how Yang Cheng dared to kill the heir of the He clan.
But when Yang Cheng's cold gaze swept toward him, all his words got stuck in his throat.
Subconsciously, with one last shred of hope and grievance, he looked to Yu Zhongxu.
He hoped this elder of the White Fish Society could see through Yang Cheng's brutal nature. That he'd realize Yang Cheng was the real rule-breaker, that it wasn't their families oppressing Yang Cheng.
But when his gaze met Yu Zhongxu's, his heart plunged into a frozen abyss.
Yu Zhongxu not only showed no trace of disapproval, he even gave a slight nod. That stern face of his was full of appreciation.