Wen Lang stepped into the courtyard.
This compound had been arranged by the branch hall—specifically meant to host guests of the Wind-Thunder Sect—so the environment and facilities were exceptionally comfortable.
Lin Ye sat beneath a large tree in the courtyard, cultivating. When Wen Lang entered, Lin Ye didn't even stand.
"You're not here to kill me," Lin Ye said calmly.
Perhaps the former Lin Ye would have respected Wen Lang.
But the current Lin Ye would not.
He was only granting Wen Lang the chance to speak out of consideration for the past.
Wen Lang fell silent for a moment.
The moment he entered, he sensed the aura Lin Ye was emitting while cultivating.
It was not weak.
After a while, Wen Lang finally spoke:
"It seems you've suffered a lot over these years. I came only to tell you one thing—don't return to the Wind-Thunder Sect."
"Leave this place. They won't get your father's legacy. When you have enough strength, you can come back for revenge. It won't be too late."
Wen Lang had already made up his mind before arriving.
Whether Lin Ye returned to the sect or not, it would end in death.
The only way out was to leave the entire Wind-Thunder Riverlands.
When Lin Ye heard this, he understood Wen Lang's intent.
Wen Lang wanted to escort him out of danger—saving his life was all that mattered.
It was clear that Wen Lang's bond with Lin Zhonghai had been extremely deep.
Otherwise, he would never have taken such an enormous risk, personally coming to guide Lin Ye away.
Because that act alone could easily be treated as treason—an act of collusion.
If so, even Wen Lang might lose his position as an elder.
"I appreciate your kindness," Lin Ye said. "But I'm very interested in that legacy."
"Since you came, I'll give you a warning too."
"Leave the Wind-Thunder Sect."
"Otherwise… I can't guarantee what happens to you."
His voice was calm, almost gentle.
It didn't sound like a threat.
It sounded like sincere advice.
Wen Lang didn't expect Lin Ye to speak with such arrogance.
"Lin Ye… even if you gained opportunities in the Dragon Void Cavern, you cannot shake the Wind-Thunder Sect alone."
"Don't do something foolish."
"Elder Hou Chen pleaded for you. You were given seven days."
"After seven days, you'll be placed onto the Wind-Thunder Sect's Black List."
"At that point, even I will be forced to strike you."
His tone was heavy and earnest—he wanted Lin Ye to understand the seriousness of this.
"Within these seven days, I can send you out of the Wind-Thunder Riverlands."
"I know a place suitable for hiding. Go there. Start over."
But Lin Ye slowly shook his head.
"A Black List?" Lin Ye scoffed. "Are they children? Playing games?"
"Since I only have seven days…"
"Then on the seventh day, I will slaughter my way back into the Wind-Thunder Sect."
"Elder Wen, I owe you a favor for coming today."
"I'll spare your life."
"Now leave."
To Lin Ye, the sect's behavior was laughably childish—ranking enemies on a list?
If someone threatens you, you kill them.
If you can't kill them, you submit.
Making lists was meaningless.
Wen Lang's expression shifted sharply.
If Lin Ye went back to the sect, it would be suicide.
But before Wen Lang could speak again—
A terrifying aura erupted from Lin Ye's body and slammed outward.
It forced Wen Lang back toward the doorway.
"What!?" Wen Lang's eyes widened in shock.
How could Lin Ye's cultivation be this tyrannical?
And it wasn't only about raw power.
It was about how perfectly Lin Ye controlled that power—pure mastery.
Wen Lang gritted his teeth and muttered:
"He really is his father's son…"
He wanted to keep persuading Lin Ye.
But in the end, he could only give up helplessly.
He had expected a stubborn answer.
He just hadn't expected Lin Ye to be this strong.
Still, Wen Lang believed that charging back into the Wind-Thunder Sect was suicide.
He could not allow Lin Ye to do it.
But even Wen Lang had no way to stop him.
He could only hope the Grand Elder would intervene later and leave Lin Ye with one last chance.
"I need to convince Elder Hou," Wen Lang thought grimly.
Lin Ye's attitude was too extreme.
And Wen Lang knew something others didn't:
The Wind-Thunder Sect's foundation was far deeper than people imagined.
Even he, the Third Elder, only knew a small fraction of its true secrets.
Otherwise, how could the Wind-Thunder Sect stand as one of the strongest factions in the region for so many years without ever collapsing?
Wen Lang left.
He did not stay in the city.
Lin Ye, meanwhile, remained unmoved.
The others could be negotiated with.
But Geng Shiqiu had to die.
That old bastard had tried to play tricks right in front of Lin Ye.
He would pay.
Lin Ye cultivated through the entire night.
With the Spirit-Gathering Ring, his cultivation speed far surpassed normal people.
And with the Nine Revolutions Asura Art, he could directly draw power from the Blood Sea—making him even faster.
It was as if the heavens themselves existed only to be drained by him.
"I'm close to seeing the second layer of the art…"
The level of one's core cultivation method affected everything:
cultivation speed, technique power, energy control—everything.
For example—
Right now, Lin Ye's absorption speed was "one hundred."
If he broke into the second layer, it would become "one thousand."
Maybe even more.
And the power of his techniques would rise as well.
Even at the same cultivation realm, Blood Slaughter Nine Strikes performed at the first layer versus the second layer would not be remotely comparable.
Six Fortune Pavilion
Six Fortune Pavilion was the most luxurious inn in Thunder River City.
It was said that even a single night's stay cost over a thousand spirit stones.
And the services provided were beyond imagination.
In recent days, the entire pavilion had been booked out.
The one who booked it was none other than Murong Xuan'ang of Golden Dragon City.
Murong Xuan'ang's personal guard—the Earth Transformation Third Realm elder—was named Feng Tingxu.
Feng Tingxu stood beside Murong Xuan'ang's bed.
Murong Xuan'ang's injuries weren't life-threatening, but the humiliation was enormous:
He had lost one ear, one finger, and taken a direct punch to the face.
His nose bridge had been shattered.
His finger and ear couldn't be saved.
His face had been repaired in time, but the damage was permanent.
At dawn, after swallowing large amounts of painkillers, Murong Xuan'ang finally woke from unconsciousness.
He stared at Feng Tingxu and hissed:
"I want him dead!"
Feng Tingxu bowed. "Young Master, I have already sent word back to Golden Dragon City. The Golden Eagle Guard is being mobilized."
Murong Xuan'ang's eyes blazed with hatred.
"Good. He dared touch me."
"I will kill him. Kill his whole family. I want every last one of them dead!"
Feng Tingxu hurried forward to soothe him.
"Young Master, calm yourself. His identity has already been confirmed."
"He was once a core disciple of the Wind-Thunder Sect, but a few days ago he was accused of killing a sect official and is now wanted."
"He won't live long."
But Murong Xuan'ang's rage only intensified.
"I want to capture him myself!"
"I want him alive!"
"I want him to suffer worse than death!"
"I will torture him with my own hands!"
Feng Tingxu nodded repeatedly.
"Young Master, rest assured. Once the Golden Eagle Guard arrives, even if he grows wings, he won't escape."
The Cold Wind
As the two were speaking—
A chill breeze drifted in from the window.
Feng Tingxu's eyes hardened instantly.
"Who's there?!"
He turned toward the window—
But in that same instant—
A blade-light flashed.
A sword thrust struck with perfect precision, piercing Feng Tingxu's throat.
His throat was punctured clean through.
He couldn't even scream.
Slash.
His head rolled across the floor.
Murong Xuan'ang, still groggy, shouted toward the darkness:
"Old Feng? Who is it?"
The answer was—
Three arrows.
Whip—whip—whip!
The three arrows struck:
one through the forehead,
one through the throat,
one through the heart.
Every shot was fatal.
But that still wasn't enough.
The attacker walked calmly to the bedside.
A sword rose…
and fell.
Murong Xuan'ang's head was severed.
Only then did the killer leave through the window.
Moments later, a maid arrived to deliver breakfast.
She pushed the door open—
and saw two corpses.
Her scream tore through the building.
Six Fortune Pavilion was guarded heavily.
Yet inside the young master's room, only Feng Tingxu had been stationed.
Now—
both were dead.
The killer was ruthless beyond words.
The news spread through Thunder River City like wildfire.
The entire city was shaken.
The Murong Clan's young master had been slaughtered inside Six Fortune Pavilion.