The vicious glint in his eyes never faded. Feng Youming's gray pupils were already bloodshot, his face mottled with red and blue swelling, puffed beyond recognition.
The carefree arrogance from the beginning was long gone. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, snarling, "Your Song family bullies others by sheer numbers. If you have the guts, fight me one on one!"
He had no other choice now. If not for the many treasures he carried, the group would have already flattened him moments ago.
Truly hateful.
An entire family with no honor, four of them ganging up on him alone.
His words were met with Song Wanníng's derisive laugh.
"Yes, we are bullying you. What of it? Only an idiot would fight you one on one."
She didn't bother saying more before attacking again. The other three members of the Song family closed ranks with her, striking with mounting ferocity.
So what if it was bullying? They would have no qualms even if it were "bullying a dog." First, they would take down Feng Youming—everything else could wait.
Feng Youming's face darkened to an ugly shade as he cursed and retaliated, but his resistance didn't last long. He was soon flung aside like a torn kite.
Once he lost the initiative, it was impossible to regain it.
Pounded under the combined assault of the four, he couldn't even find an opening to counterattack. No matter how many treasures he possessed, he had no chance to bring them out.
Song Huai and Song Wanníng were the most ruthless, their techniques both vicious and devastating.
Blood poured from his mouth again and again. Feng Youming felt like a rag doll being tossed around, a deep humiliation burning in his chest.
A sword light howled.
He was blasted into the air, blood spraying several meters high before he crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, lying there like a pile of broken mud, unable to rise.
Yet the four didn't relent. Attacks kept pouring in from all directions. Even with every defensive treasure he had flaring to life, it made no difference. A heavy strike slammed him against the formation wall, sending him sprawling face-first in the dirt.
From the sidelines, Yu Cheng flinched. Four cultivators in the Divine Transformation stage against one man—it was downright pitiful.
If not for Feng Youming's pile of treasures, he might have already been reduced to a smear of flesh.But treasures were only external tools. Against four opponents working together, he still couldn't get up.
His transmission talismans had been fired off again and again, each one blocked by the formation. Panting hard, Feng Youming lay sprawled on the ground, completely out of options. He was cornered, but he had no intention of self-detonating. After finally reaching the Divine Transformation stage, his ambitions were boundless. He absolutely could not die here.
His eyes darted, and he suddenly raised his hand in surrender.
"Wait! I… I can tell you the truth! But you have to promise not to kill me!"
A glint of malice flickered in his gaze as he beckoned toward Mu Yuan with a curl of his finger.
"I'll only tell her."
Mu Yuan had the lowest cultivation here—he had chosen the softest persimmon to squeeze.
This move, however, took the four Song family members by surprise.
Too stupid. That was the only explanation.
Song Wanníng looked at him as if he had grown a second head. From his earlier behavior, he should have been anything but simple. Now he seemed…
Had the beating rattled his brains?
"What, you don't believe me?"
Feng Youming's brows drew together. As long as Mu Yuan came closer, he would have a sliver of a chance.
"Feng Youming, do you take us for fools?"
Song Qingyun gave him an exasperated glare. "We don't care about your so-called secrets. Just prepare to die!"
With that, the three attacked again.
Feng Youming flushed with shame and fury, but all he could do was rage helplessly. He was beaten down once more before he could even struggle upright.
The formation shook under the battle. The massive, dangerous whirlwind from before had dwindled to a light breeze, stripped of any threat.
Flat on the ground, he cursed the Song family for their shamelessness.
Song Wanníng's eyes lingered on him, a trace of surprise stirring in her heart.
In her previous life, Feng Youming had seemed unfathomably strong, able to kill her with a flick of his wrist. Back then, he had carried the air of a mysterious powerhouse.
Now?
He didn't even have the courage to self-detonate.
Then again, four Divine Transformation cultivators working together—if they still couldn't take him down easily, they might as well admit they were useless.
She let out a small breath as she watched Song Huai capture him.
Song Huai sealed his spiritual power and bound him with the Immortal Binding Rope.
Feng Youming's gray eyes locked on Song Wanníng, a chilling light in their depths.
"How did you learn my name? And how did you know I'd come here, enough to set an ambush in advance?"
If not for the formation, he would have escaped long ago.
Hateful.
Song Wanníng's gaze was cool and unblinking as it swept over him.
That look… gentle, almost, yet laced with a slow, deliberate assessment.
It slid over him inch by inch, strand by strand, as though peeling the clothes from his body in her mind's eye. A shiver prickled along his skin, his throat working involuntarily. This was not a good feeling.
"If you let me go now, the Feng family can forgive you. But if you dare lay a hand on me, the Feng family will never spare you. When that time comes, not just the four of you—even your entire Song clan—none of you will live."
He spoke threats, hoping to make Song Wanníng hesitate.
As long as he stalled, once the Patriarch realized he had not reported in, rescue would come.
So he needed to keep her occupied.
What he didn't expect was that his words struck the Song family's deepest taboo.
Their auras shifted instantly, eyes turning on him with a hatred as vast as a tidal wave.
Song Qingyun's hand snapped up. With a sharp crack, he slapped Feng Youming so hard that several of his teeth flew out.
Blood filled Feng Youming's mouth. He prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, rage boiling in his chest. Never in his life had he been so humiliated. These Song family bastards deserved death.
When the Feng family arrived, they would raze every inch of the Song estate to the ground, leaving not a blade of grass.
The killing intent in his eyes only made Song Qingyun angrier.
He was about to strike again when Song Huai stopped him.
"Leave Feng Youming to Wanníng. Let's return to the Song estate first."
Wanníng had said she would handle him personally—so they would not interfere.
Song Qingyun swallowed his anger, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Wanníng, be careful. We'll head back first before anyone grows suspicious."
He had been out for a long time, claiming to be in seclusion to stabilize his cultivation. With the Song family in turbulent times, it was best not to linger.
"Go on, I'll take care of him."
A faint smile touched Song Wanníng's lips as her gaze drifted over Feng Youming once more.
His skin prickled again, goosebumps racing over him.
Once Song Qingyun and the others had gone, Song Wanníng stepped forward and lifted his chin.
The once-handsome face was now so swollen it looked like a pig's head—almost comical. Her smile deepened. Feng Youming, however, spoke something utterly absurd.
"Song Wanníng, don't you dare harbor indecent thoughts about me!"