“Exterminated?” The word tore from Madam Su’s throat, a raw, disbelieving shriek. The Su family, already kneeling in the dust of their own making, froze. Their minds, already shattered by Lu Feng’s power, simply couldn't process the scale of this new horror. Bai Li stood like a statue carved from ice and steel. Her gaze was fixed on her Lord. “Every master, every disciple. Their meridians were shattered, their Inner Qi dispersed. The Hua Shan Sect exists no more.” Lu Feng did not turn. He continued to gaze into the villa, his expression as placid as a deep lake. He merely sipped his tea. “Impossible!” Madam Su wailed, clawing at the ground. “The Hua Shan Sect is a pillar of the Jianghu! They have a Grandmaster! How could they just… vanish?” Finally, Lu Feng spoke. His voice was not loud, but it cut through the air, silencing every cricket, every rustling leaf. “They overreached.” That was all. Two words. But within them, the Su family heard the thunder of armies, the screams of the dying, the final judgment of a deity. They finally understood. Lu Feng hadn't just defeated Hua Shan. He had erased it from existence with a thought, a wave of his hand. Their last hope, their ticket to glory, was nothing but ash before this man. The weight of that realization crushed the last vestiges of their pride. They didn’t just grovel now; they whimpered, their bodies trembling uncontrollably on the cold stone, no longer daring to even look at the man they had once called trash. *** Miles away, in the opulent chambers of the Hua Shan Sect, Xue Yao preened before a bronze mirror. She wore a gown of embroidered silk, a gift from her fiancé, Young Master Murong. Servants had bowed to her all day, calling her ‘Young Madam.’ The shame of her three-year marriage to a worthless live-in husband was finally being washed away. She imagined Lu Feng, still on his hands and knees scrubbing floors, and a cruel, satisfied smile touched her lips. He was her past. This opulence, this power, was her future. Murong had promised her that once they were wed, the Su family would become vassals of Hua Shan, their status soaring beyond their wildest dreams. The door to her chambers crashed open. It was not Murong. It was his father, the Old Sect Master, his face ashen, his Grandmaster robes disheveled. The aura of a powerful martial artist was gone, replaced by the frantic terror of a cornered animal. “Sect Master?” Xue Yao began, rising with a graceful bow. “Is something wrong?” “Wrong?” he roared, his voice cracking. He lunged forward, not like a master, but like a madman, and slapped her across the face. The force sent her sprawling to the floor, her ears ringing. “You! You witch! You brought this curse upon my house!” he screamed, his eyes wild with fear. Servants, who had been bowing just moments ago, now stared at her with open contempt and fear. “What are you talking about?” Xue Yao cried, clutching her stinging cheek. “The Su family! Your trash husband!” the Old Sect Master shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at her. “He isn’t a man! He’s a demon! A god of death! He holds the Dragon Order!” The Dragon Order. The words struck Xue Yao like lightning. She had heard the legends whispered in the highest circles. A token that commanded the entire Jianghu. A symbol of the one true Sovereign. It couldn’t be. Not Lu Feng. Not the man who washed her clothes. “My son is dead! My elders are dead!” the Old Sect Master sobbed, collapsing to his knees. “Our entire sect’s Inner Qi has been crippled by an invisible force! All because we dared to touch his woman! He wiped us out without even showing his face!” His woman. The words echoed in the silent room. *His woman.* A title she had scorned, a connection she had severed with her own hands for a hollow promise of glory. The Sect Master’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with pure, undiluted hatred. “Get out. Get this harbinger of doom out of my sight! Throw her into the street! She is poison! Everything she touches turns to dust!” Two guards grabbed Xue Yao’s arms. Her silk gown tore as they dragged her through the halls, past the sneering faces of the servants. They threw her out of the main gate like garbage, her fine clothes covered in dirt, her dreams shattering into a million pieces. She lay in the mud as the great gates of Hua Shan slammed shut, sealing her fate. It was all true. The man she had divorced, the man she had called a dog, was the Dragon Sovereign. The supreme ruler of the martial world. He could have given her the world on a platter, but she had thrown it away for a pile of glittering sand. An agony deeper than any physical pain ripped through her soul. Every sneer, every insult, every command she had given him over three long years played back in her mind. She hadn't been disciplining a servant. She had been mocking a god. One last, insane sliver of hope ignited in her heart. She had to get back. She had to beg him. He had once looked at her with a flicker of warmth, hadn't he? Surely, three years of marriage meant something. She scrambled to her feet and ran. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs gave out, a desperate, mad dash back to the city, back to the man she had discarded. She found the villa. It stood on the peak, bathed in moonlight, looking like a celestial palace. And there he was. Lu Feng stood on the veranda, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the moon. The War Goddess, Bai Li, stood a respectful pace behind him. He looked serene, untouchable, as if the world and all its troubles were beneath his notice. Xue Yao, her hair a mess, her face stained with tears and dirt, stumbled forward and collapsed at the foot of the stairs. “Lu Feng!” she cried, her voice a pathetic croak. He did not turn. He did not acknowledge her. “I was wrong!” she sobbed, crawling up the steps on her hands and knees. “I was a fool! A blind, arrogant fool! Please, Lu Feng! Take me back! I’m still your wife! In my heart, I’m still your wife!” She reached his feet, her hands outstretched, ready to cling to him like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood. Lu Feng took a step to the side. He walked past her without a single glance, his eyes never leaving the moon. His indifference was a blade that sliced her soul in two. Bai Li looked down at the weeping woman, her beautiful face a mask of utter contempt. “The Sovereign has already forgotten your name.” As Lu Feng reached the edge of the veranda, a sudden whisper of wind cut through the night, sharper than any blade. An almost invisible sliver of black steel shot from the darkness, aimed directly at the Sovereign’s heart, carrying an ancient and terrifying killing intent. Before it could reach him, Bai Li’s hand blurred, snatching the dart from the air. Her eyes widened, not at the attack, but at the chilling aura clinging to the metal. “This Qi… My Lord, it’s the forbidden art of the Shadow Assassins! The treaty is broken!”

Chapter 9: Xue Yao's Downfall