Chapter 372: Wipeout

"This is bad! We're under attack!" A tremendous roar reverberated through the heart of the city, alerting a Bejeweled martialist sentinel. His heart jolted as he watched a speeding vehicle hurtle toward him, its form blurring into the ghostly silhouette of a massive armored war-wagon. Without a second thought, he activated a talisman to alert his superiors. "Hostile attack underway!"

"What?" Up on the second floor, the young master and Uncle Wen were discussing trivial matters when the warning caught them off guard. In a flash of movement, they appeared out on the balcony. Looking down, they saw a massive qi-reinforced vehicle barreling toward them with enough destructive power to obliterate everything in its path. The vehicle tore forward like a bolt of lightning, shattering solid ice and shaking the street as it ground everything in its path to dust.

Several martialists attempted to intercept it, but the slightest contact unleashed a monstrous shockwave that sent them flying. The impact broke their bones and ripped their muscle, leaving them coughing up blood. It seemed less like a vehicle and more like a boulder, or perhaps a meteorite collecting speed and fury as it plunged from the mountain's summit.

"Hold on, it's heading straight for..." One look and the young master's face changed instantly. "It's coming right at us!" Before he could react, the qi-reinforced dump truck made its thunderous arrival.

At the entrance of the Bejeweled Traders Guild, a twelve-step sloping staircase raised the entire building half a level above the block. While this might instill a sense of prestige within surrounding residents, the stairs had now become a ramp for the dump truck to gather speed and launch into the air. With a deafening roar, the vehicle soared up the incline, streaking in a straight line toward the upper level where the young master and the others stood.

A loud boom echoed through blocks miles away as a flash of flames lit up the swirling snow, forming a blinding white sphere before erupting into a violent explosion. For a moment, even the nearby Bejeweled martialists stood frozen in shock. How could a mere food carriage suddenly explode like that?

The answer lay in a combination of drones and dust. An Jing had retrieved nearly half of the explosives from his void artifact as he accelerated. This was exactly what the Bejeweled Traders Guild deserved; those greedy bastards and that entitled young master had earned every ounce of lead and gunpowder coming their way. Although using edible grain as combustible dust was rather wasteful, An Jing planned to buy more to replace it anyway. Right now, he would blow it all up first!

Golden flames swallowed everything as the entire city center turned into a raging inferno. The falling snow dissolved into a hazy mist against the blistering heat, catching the golden glow and scattering it across the sky like a blazing sunset. Electric arcs crackled through the flames, while dying embers darted and flickered out in the air.

"Cough, cough, cough... Lunatic! Madman! Who just throws thunder beads around like that?!" A figure frantically scrambled out of the debris. Though the young master's white robes were now covered in ash and riddled with holes, he was physically unharmed thanks to an armor talisman which slowly burned away inside the sachet at his waist. As the scion of an influential clan in the capital, he carried more protective gear than most martialists had weapons. This explosion was only enough to rough him up, not kill him.

Ashen-faced, the young master cried out, "Are the formation discs intact? Protect it!"

His question went unanswered. Total pandemonium gripped the guild's headquarters, where desperate cries and weeping blended with the howling of raging flames. No one knew if the formation discs were damaged, but one thing was certain—they were in deep trouble.

The flames suddenly twisted, whipping forward in a violent surge as a fist came crashing toward the young master's face, blindingly fast and heavy. The young master's expression shifted in shock. He had taken the explosion for a suicide attack. If a powerhouse like Uncle Wen couldn't survive the blast, who else could possibly be left standing besides himself?

He instinctively threw up his hand. Instantly, the jade pendant around his neck, the talisman at his waist, the silver bracelet on his wrist, and his concealed chest armor erupted in a brilliant glow. The combined power of these four artifacts was as unyielding as the city walls and impenetrable against a direct strike from a lethal-qi cannon.

But the force behind the punch was terrifyingly fierce, instantly shattering his jade pendant, reducing his talisman to cinders and snapping the silver bracelet. The single punch tore through three of his four-layered defense as if they were three panes of glass. His concealed armor, however, was truly exceptional. Translucent white threads intertwined into a spiderweb pattern, blocking the attack.

"You..." Catching sight of the fist's owner, the young master stared into An Jing's expressionless face. His pupils constricted as though he wanted to speak, but it was already too late.

An Jing exhaled, a low grunt escaping his lips as he unleashed another surge of power. The young master's entire body went numb. His armor exploded into a shower of shrapnel that tore into him, propelled by a monstrous force. The impact hurled him backward like a projectile, sending him crashing into the building behind him in an explosion of thick dust. And when the dust settled, the young master was embedded deep in the wall, slumped over like a piece of discarded wreckage.

"M-Monster! He's a monster!"

"Young Master Mo is dead!"

The guild's martialists had begun to converge on the scene, but the sight of the young master being cratered into the wall by a single punch struck absolute terror into their souls. They turned on their heels and fled, desperately wishing they had been born with an extra pair of legs to carry them faster.

Granted, Young Master Mo had never mistreated them, giving them free rein to line their own pockets. Given the immense backing behind him, aligning themselves with him was a guaranteed path to unimaginable wealth. But up against such a cold-blooded executioner who slaughtered without a blink or a word, who would dare fight back? Escaping was the only option, and they had to run now!

However, a handful of elite martialists remained. They were visibly superior to the guild's ordinary members. Four men with the imposing bearing of the military stood firm, quietly assuming a battle formation that locked An Jing at the center. No words were spoken; no confrontation was initiated. In the span of a heartbeat, they pounced. The cold gleam of their weapons coalesced into a silvery storm, closing in on An Jing from all sides.

These Fortification martialists were formidable soldiers with two or three wonders. Their Crimsonblade Majesty cultivation technique resonated perfectly with each other's, and the razor-sharp lethal qi of their weapons fused with the turbid terrestial-vein lethal qi, morphing into a howling tornado that pressed upon An Jing.

The Minor Decimation Formation bore down like a crushing battle array, and a wave of innate qi threatened to suppress An Jing where he stood. But to him, their attack felt sluggish and weak. With Firm White Attestation fully formed alongside his two wonders, Temporal Grasp and Ocular Blaze, his lethal qi had swelled tenfold. Any Fortification martialist lacking a fundamental formation diagram would be utterly outmatched, even if they wielded five wonders.

White spirit patterns rippled across An Jing's limbs as a crimson gleam flashed in his eyes. He had already spotted a flaw in the formation. It was originally a six-harmonies formation that required at least six people, but his explosive "dump truck" ambush had likely taken out two of them. And because the formation was incomplete, the circulation of blood lethal qi was compromised. An opening like this would have eluded any ordinary martialist, yet in An Jing's eyes, the entire world slowed to a crawl. He accelerated into a ferocious charge.

In just one move, An Jing smacked a martialist's head clean off. Though it appeared to be a casual swat of his palm, the power contained in his glowing hand was astronomical. The second it slammed into the man's face, his vertebrae snapped and flesh ripped open, making it look as though An Jing had slapped his head right off his shoulders. The severed head hit the ground like a rotting apple, imploding so violently that it barely held its shape.

Witnessing this, even the martialists with hearts of stone shuddered. The three retainers knew right then that they were no match for the enemy. Yet, they would never retreat. Embracing a bitter resolve, they bellowed in defiance and charged toward An Jing.

But who did they think they were? With a ferocity ten times greater than their own, An Jing ripped his weapon from its sheath. Barehanded, it might have taken An Jing three separate blows to end them, but with weapon in hand, a single stroke would suffice. Raging Evenstar lethal qi flooded into Ocean Domination. Despite the mismatch in aspects, metal generated water, causing the blade's qi to surge.

Blue and white intertwined as the tempestuous force swept across in a perfect arc. The immense impact struck the three martialists practically at the same moment, sending shockwaves blasting outward. Two were immediately bisected at the torso, while the third managed a desperate block. His weapon shattered, his arms twisted grotesquely, and his chest caved in as he was violently thrown backward.

It all happened in a flash. The smoke from the explosion was still swirling when An Jing wiped out the guild's overt forces. The distant sounds of combat rang out. An Jing knew instantly that Xu Tai was intercepting the rest of the guild's martialists. Given that man's sheer power, suppressing these low-level martialists would be child's play. There was no need for him to worry. Returning his blade to its sheath, An Jing turned toward the building into which Young Master Mo had been violently smashed.

"You're not dead," he said with absolute certainty, "I don't know how you survived, but you can't escape by playing dead."

"It hurts..." A bizarre sound rattled from the crater where Young Master Mo was embedded. Twisting into an unnatural posture, his broken and mangled body staggered upright from the wall. His chest was completely caved in; An Jing's devastating punch earlier had torn through him and shattered his heart. Yet it seemed to trigger a final measure, trapping a lingering sliver of consciousness within Young Master Mo's body and soul. "Reduced to such a pathetic state... how utterly disgraceful."

"Though he's just a concubine's son, it's a pity for his life to be thrown away like this." His voice changed, sounding like an echo from a distant place. An Jing's brow furrowed slightly as a sudden sense of danger gripped him.

Yvelbane warned, "Something's wrong, An Jing. This man is definitely dead, but his bloodline is unique. A powerful consciousness used the power of his blood to manifest within his body from afar!"

"Oh?" An Jing narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade. "Who's speaking?"

"Young Master Mo" didn't reply. Instead, a faint, eerie blue flame ignited within his eyes as he stared intently at An Jing. "Madman."

He drew his hand back as though pulling an invisible bow, and in that split second, An Jing threw himself aside to dodge. An invisible qi arrow sliced through the air, leaving rings of sonic shockwaves in its wake. The sharp shriek of its flight resounded across the city, setting the snow and atmosphere ablaze as the projectile left a crimson trail stretching into the distant clouds.

"Dragon Piercer?!" Nearby, Xu Tai was busy knocking out the martialists of the Bejeweled Traders Guild when he witnessed the arrow tear through the snowclouds and atmosphere above. His eyes went wide and his pupils shrank in shock. "Dragon General Mo Que?! That good-for-nothing is General Mo's son?"