Chapter 382: Burn, My Sword (Part 2)
Lin Pingyuan, as a great tycoon of the Northern lands, naturally carried himself with immense boldness. Even in the depths of late spring, he wore a fur-lined cloak, and even when coming to kill someone like Su Li, he brought over a dozen subordinates, seemingly unconcerned about any leaks of information.
“What does ‘great tycoon’ mean? A great local bully? But a bully can only dominate a village; a great tycoon who can dominate the entire Northern lands should be called a warlord instead. I consider myself a warlord.” He looked at Su Li and said, “A warlord cannot afford to save face. I won’t be as foolish as Liang Hongzhuang. I came with my most trusted subordinates and the resolve to kill. I won’t talk about fairness or reason. If I can gang up on you, I will. If I can put thirty kinds of poison in your tea, I won’t leave out a single one. And I’ll dig the pit traps as deep as possible.”
On a normal day, Su Li wouldn’t even bother to acknowledge someone like this, but today, for some reason, he seemed quite interested and asked, “I think you’ve brought too few people.”
Lin Pingyuan smiled and said, “If the senior hadn’t been besieged and severely wounded by the demon clan’s experts, even if I brought all three thousand of my men, I wouldn’t be a match for a single strike of your sword. But now that the senior has fallen from grace, a dozen or so people are enough. Besides, this matter needs to be kept secret. Bringing too many people isn’t suitable. If the immortals of Lishan Sword Sect found out I killed the senior, would I still want to live?”
Su Li smiled and said, “Since you’re afraid, how dare you come to kill me?”
Lin Pingyuan replied, “The price they offered was too high. I couldn’t resist taking the gamble.”
Su Li sighed with emotion and said, “Truly worthy of being a great tycoon of the Northern lands—no, a warlord of the Northern lands. But according to a warlord’s style, after you kill us, you should silence these subordinates too, right?”
Lin Pingyuan waved his hand grandly and said, “Senior, no need to sow discord. We’ve committed every evil under the sun in our lives. We don’t trust anyone else except each other, so we trust each other deeply.”
Su Li chuckled, turned to Chen Changsheng, and said, “See? He himself admits they’ve committed every evil.”
Chen Changsheng had been staring at the bloodstains on the floor—some fresh, some old. When he heard Su Li’s words, he hummed in acknowledgment.
Lin Pingyuan looked at him, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Who are you, young man? Could you be a disciple of Lishan Sword Sect? If so, I’ll have to ask you to die along with him.”
Chen Changsheng ignored him, still gazing at the bloodstains on the tea house floor. This place wasn’t bustling, but it was beside the main road, so many travelers and merchants must have passed by every day. Judging by the bloodstains, many people had died here over the past few days. The tea house owner was certainly dead, and how many innocent travelers and merchants had perished as well?
Outside the tea house, a breeze swept down the slope, and a buzzing sound came from behind the window. He looked up and saw a swarm of flies rising, dense and disgusting. Although it was late spring, the Northern lands weren’t hot yet—where did so many flies come from? The flies descended again, disappearing from Chen Changsheng’s sight, landing in the ditch below the window.
There, countless corpses lay sprawled, a gruesome sight.
Su Li’s congratulations to him were well-founded.
This man named Lin Pingyuan, the great tycoon of the Northern lands, and everyone in this tea house—they all deserved to die.
Xue He came to kill Su Li for the sake of his nation and clan; Liang Hongzhuang came to kill Su Li for family vengeance; but this man and his crew came to kill Su Li for profit. They had committed every evil, so they had no reason to live.
Lin Pingyuan stood up and said, “The pit traps couldn’t trap your hairy deer, and the poison in the tea seems useless too. But you still walked into this tea house. I want to know if you can withstand so many of us.”
There were many people in the tea house, and they were strong—all had successfully undergone marrow cleansing. Four were at the Meditation Realm, one had even reached the Penetrating Darkness Realm, and Lin Pingyuan himself was a Star Gathering Realm expert. Chen Changsheng couldn’t use the Wisdom Sword, because even if he saw through the weaknesses in Lin Pingyuan’s star domain and defeated him, he might fall unconscious like last time. What would happen to the rest then?
Fortunately, he had just learned a new sword technique, and he could try it out.
Suddenly, the tea house erupted with shouts of killing intent. Lin Pingyuan, unconcerned about the dignity of a great tycoon or warlord, directed his subordinates to charge at Chen Changsheng and Su Li, while he himself stayed behind the crowd to oversee the battle, ready to strike at any moment.
Chen Changsheng stood up, raised his head, and his gaze pierced through the ferocious faces of the attackers, landing on Lin Pingyuan.
With a clang, the dragon-roar short sword was drawn from its sheath.
Sword aura surged in all directions. Inside the tea house, a fierce wind howled, and all the tables and chairs were sliced into splinters.
A scorching aura enveloped the entire tea house, and a brilliant beam of light burst forth from the short sword.
The crowd closing in saw a burning short sword, as if countless legendary Golden Crows were flying out from it.
In an instant, the temperature in the room skyrocketed, becoming unbearably hot.
All the bloodstains on the floor, whether fresh or old, were completely purified.
The light and heat erupting from the short sword represented an immense surge of true essence.
From the crowd came continuous cries of shock and agonized screams, all of them brief and abrupt.
Behind the crowd, Lin Pingyuan’s expression changed drastically, becoming extremely grave.
Chen Changsheng activated the Yecha Step, his form suddenly blurring as he passed through the falling, disintegrating bodies, arriving before Lin Pingyuan, and thrust his sword forward.
The burning true essence, the Golden Crow sword technique, the momentum of the Sky-Scorching Sword, and the decisive final form of the Lishan Dharma Sword—all were contained in this single strike.
Burning Sword.
A sword on fire.
The tea house grew even brighter, as if the Golden Crows flying from the sword had merged into one, becoming a sun.
The sun was so blinding that even Su Li couldn’t see what was happening inside.
After an unknown amount of time, the wind in the tea house died down, and the brightness gradually faded.
Chen Changsheng held the short sword, slowly withdrawing it as if pulling back a torch that had scorched the sky.
With a soft hiss, a deep, bloody hole appeared in Lin Pingyuan’s forehead.
The tea house was littered with corpses.
Lin Pingyuan was about to die.
His eyes wide, he stared at Chen Changsheng, filled with disbelief, and asked, “How can you kill me?”
He was a Star Gathering Realm expert, a great tycoon of the Northern lands, a warlord who had committed every evil—how could he be killed by a Penetrating Darkness Realm youth?
“Because you deserve to die,” Chen Changsheng said.
Lin Pingyuan didn’t understand, and he didn’t need to, because he was dead.
He fell to the ground, and under the residual sword intent, his body was sliced into over a dozen pieces of flesh.
There was no one left standing in the tea house except Chen Changsheng. All the tables and chairs were shattered, everything was broken, except for the stool Su Li sat on and the teapot in his hand.
The tea in the pot was highly poisonous. Chen Changsheng wondered why he was holding it.
Chen Changsheng walked over to him.
Su Li lifted the teapot and slowly poured the cold tea over him. With a sizzling sound, the cold tea touched Chen Changsheng’s face and body, instantly evaporating into steam.
Because his true essence had burned violently, Chen Changsheng’s body was scorching hot. Now it cooled slightly, but his face was still bright red, and the remnants of wild embers lingered in his eyes, making him look somewhat frightening.
“This sword is too violent… I still can’t handle it.”
After saying this, Chen Changsheng collapsed without warning, just like last time when he defeated Liang Hongzhuang and crossed two barren mountains.
“Fainted again?”
Su Li looked at him on the ground, annoyed. “What if that person comes? Wake up quickly.”
Chen Changsheng was already unconscious, so he couldn’t answer.
The tea house was filled with corpses and shattered flesh, a gruesome sight with the pungent smell of blood.
Su Li calmed down, slowly closing his eyes. At some point, his right hand grasped the handle of the yellow paper umbrella.
Time passed slowly.
The flies outside the window flew inside.
Whether good or evil, wise or foolish, death was the same—to gods and to these flies.
Su Li opened his eyes and said expressionlessly, “Get up. It seems he won’t show.”
Besides the dead, only the unconscious Chen Changsheng was in the tea house. Who was he talking to?
Chen Changsheng opened his eyes, stood up with difficulty, helped Su Li leave the tea house, called over the hairy deer in the distance, and continued their journey south.
A moment later, a person suddenly crawled out from the pile of corpses in the tea house. He walked to the main road, looked south at the figures of the man and the deer, remained silent for a while, and then disappeared again.
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(I’m really diligent, and talented too. See you tomorrow.)