Chapter 297: Misunderstanding and Settling Accounts — Lu Qing's Killing Intent!

"Unique Treasure?" Lu Qing blinked, taken aback.

At that moment, several powerful figures burst into the room.

Leading the charge were several Taoists in flowing robes. As they entered, their eyes immediately locked onto Lu Qing—and the powerful talisman hovering before him, pulsing with intense spiritual energy.

The middle-aged Taoist at the front narrowed his eyes and bellowed, "Young master, don’t hand over the Unique Treasure to those bald-headed monks!"

But it was already too late.

Before Yang Ming Dao Ren could finish speaking, Xuan Nu He Shang had already lunged forward.

Despite his rotund frame, his speed was astonishing—almost instantaneous. He shot toward Lu Qing, his wide palm outstretched, reaching for the Shen Hun Fu Lu.

Yang Ming Dao Ren’s heart sank.

He hadn’t expected the monks of Xuan Kong Shan to be so brazen—daring to charge into the lingering aura of Jie Yun with such reckless haste.

Now they were too late. All they could do was watch helplessly as Xuan Nu He Shang reached for the talisman.

"So… you thought my Shen Hun Fu Lu was the Unique Treasure?" Lu Qing finally understood.

He wasn’t surprised that Xuan Nu and the others hadn’t recognized him.

Right now, he looked thoroughly disheveled.

Though he’d retrieved his clothes from the Qiankun Yiqi Dai after surviving the thunderstorm tribulation and healed all his wounds, the charred, blackened skin still clung to his face, not yet fully shed. His newly grown hair was still uncombed, wild and messy.

It was no wonder they didn’t see him.

He watched Xuan Nu’s massive hand inching toward the talisman, and Lu Qing let out a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

First, he sent a silent message through Spirit Soul Transmission, urging Master to hold back for now.

Then, with a subtle thought, the Shen Hun Fu Lu rapidly shrank, vanishing in a flash into his brow.

"Give it up, boy!" Xuan Nu He Shang snarled, his hand closing on empty air.

Fury flared in his eyes. The palm of his enormous hand flared with golden light, and he swung it down toward Lu Qing with devastating force—intent on crushing him, forcing the treasure out.

The sheer pressure was enough to shatter a mountain.

"Damn it… the boy’s dead!"

The onlookers, witnessing this, felt their blood run cold.

Some, pitying the boy’s fate, turned away, unable to bear the thought of seeing Lu Qing torn apart.

But just as everyone believed Lu Qing was finished—

A blinding slash of blade-light flared.

Then—

A scream tore through the air.

And they saw it: Xuan Nu He Shang’s arm was severed from his body in an instant, spraying blood. His entire frame was thrown backward, crashing through bricks and wooden beams, carving a long, jagged trench across the ground before finally coming to a stop.

When his body settled, the onlookers gasped in horror.

Xuan Nu wasn’t just missing an arm.

His chest was split open from shoulder to waist—a monstrous, gaping wound that had nearly cleaved him in two.

His breathing was shallow, his life force fading fast.

The crowd fell silent.

Every eye turned back to Lu Qing.

Who was this boy? How could he possess such terrifying power? One single blade aura had nearly killed a Xian Tian Jing Mastery master!

Xuan Nu He Shang, stunned, stared in disbelief.

He couldn’t believe he’d been struck down by a single slash.

"…He didn’t die?" Lu Qing murmured, surprised.

He’d thought the blade aura would split Xuan Nu clean in two. But the man had survived.

So his control over Xian Tian Jing energy, though newly awakened, was still a little unrefined.

But it didn’t matter.

With his current realm and mastery over force, Lu Qing knew he’d never make that mistake again.

Hearing Lu Qing’s quiet words, the onlookers exchanged glances—speechless.

The boy seemed… unimpressed by having just crippled a Xian Tian master?

Only Xuan Ming He Shang remained troubled, his gaze fixed on Lu Qing’s face, a flicker of recognition forming in his eyes.

"Boy! Who are you to injure my Xuan Nu Uncle?" A young monk roared, enraged.

"Xuan Ming monk," Lu Qing sneered, "you and your Xuan Kong Shan are as rotten as ever—always arrogant, always hypocritical. Every time I meet you, it’s trouble. Last time, you tried to forcibly convert my master. Now, you charge in without reason, ready to steal my treasure."

"…You?" Xuan Ming He Shang’s heart lurched. Recognition finally struck.

"The Lu boy?!"

Yang Ming Dao Ren and the others also realized who Lu Qing was.

But now, their shock deepened.

Just days ago, Lu Qing’s single strike had only wounded Xuan Nu.

Now, a mere blade aura had nearly killed him.

In just a few days, his strength had doubled—it was unbelievable.

Could it be due to that talisman—the so-called Unique Treasure?

A few among the onlookers, who had witnessed Lu Qing at Sheng Shan, recalled the chilling killing intent that had radiated from him then.

Could that talisman have amplified that aura?

Others, who hadn’t been present, stared in confusion.

Who was this boy? Why did the Xuan Kong Shan monks seem so afraid of him?

"You… you little brat?" Xuan Nu He Shang could barely speak, disbelief and fury warring in his voice.

He never thought the one who’d again shattered his body was the same boy who’d killed his disciple and wounded him before.

Overwhelmed, his already suppressed inner energy surged chaotically. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he collapsed unconscious.

"Xuan Nu Uncle!"

A monk screamed, rushing forward, pulling out pills to administer.

Lu Qing didn’t stop him.

Xuan Nu had been struck by his blade aura. Though still newly entered Xian Tian, Lu Qing’s mastery over sword energy meant the injury wouldn’t heal easily.

For now, he ignored Xuan Nu.

Instead, he turned to Xuan Ming, his voice calm, yet chilling.

"Xuan Ming monk. You’re just in time. I’ve got a debt to settle with you."

"Ah… Amitabha," Xuan Ming said softly, regaining composure after his initial shock. "It’s been but a few days, yet your cultivation has deepened further. A true prodigy. That Xuan Nu acted recklessly—his fault. I apologize on his behalf."

Xuan Ming’s respectful bow stunned the onlookers.

Xuan Ming—the elder of Xuan Kong Shan, one of the Four Secret Places! A legendary figure, even the sect leaders of Zhong Zhou bowed to him!

Now, he was bowing to a boy?

Who was this youth?!

But Lu Qing remained expressionless.

"Cut the act, Xuan Ming monk," he said coldly. "Answer me—were those Wu Jian Lou assassins from your Xuan Kong Shan, sent the other night?"

The mention of Wu Jian Lou sent shockwaves through the crowd.

For days, rumors of Wu Jian Lou’s return had spread across Sheng Cheng.

Now, the boy claimed it was linked to Xuan Kong Shan?

A few shrewd minds recalled the strange, sudden reappearance of Wu Jian Lou—and began to piece together other unexplained events.

Their hearts clenched.

Even Yang Ming Dao Ren’s face darkened. He saw the truth dawning.

"Ah… Amitabha," Xuan Ming replied, unruffled. "Wu Jian Lou was a heretical sect, long eradicated centuries ago. How could it be linked to Xuan Kong Shan?"

"Whether you admit it or not," Lu Qing chuckled, "I already know the truth. I extracted it from the assassins themselves."

"Master," Xuan Ming said sincerely, "though I don’t know what you call the truth, I must warn you: Wu Jian Lou assassins are often insane—driven by obsession, willing to do anything. Don’t be manipulated by others’ schemes."

"Doesn’t matter," Lu Qing replied, smiling suddenly, brightly. "I don’t care if it was a trap. One thing I’ve long wanted to do… is finish you all."

Then, he vanished.

"No—form the formation!" Xuan Ming’s heart pounded with dread.

He roared, hurling a Golden Bowl into the air.

The bowl expanded instantly, growing to the size of a barrel, glowing with a soft golden light as it floated before the monks, forming a barrier.

But in the next instant—

Lu Qing reappeared.

In his hand, a long blade had appeared—no flourish, no ceremony.

He swung.

CRACK!

The blade struck the Golden Bowl with overwhelming force.

The bowl shattered like glass, blasted backward by the sheer power.

Lu Qing didn’t stop.

He swung again—this time, a sweeping arc of blade energy, sharp and deadly, slicing forward in a crescent wave.

"Get out of the way!"

The monks screamed in terror.

They’d seen Xuan Nu’s fate—his Golden Body barely held, yet still shattered.

How could they hope to survive?

All of them abandoned the formation, leaping aside in panic.

But Lu Qing’s sword mastery was flawless.

His blade aura was not something easily evaded.

A chorus of screams erupted.

When the energy dissipated, the scene was horrific.

All but a few of the Xuan Kong Shan monks—those elders at the center—had been cut in half at the waist.

"Ah! It hurts! It hurts! Elder, save me!"

"Help! I don’t want to die!"

"Master, please!"

The severed monks writhed in agony, screaming, begging for mercy.

The sight chilled even the most hardened onlookers.

Xuan Ming could no longer hide his fear.

His face was ashen.

He pressed his hands together, chanting, summoning a string of Buddha Beads.

Golden light poured from them, washing over the wounded monks.

Miraculously, the wounds began to close. Blood stopped flowing.

They wouldn’t die… yet.

But Lu Qing wasn’t done.

He’d only been stalling—gaining time to test his new Xian Tian Jing power.

Now, seeing Xuan Ming try to heal, he lunged again.

But before he could move—

A shimmering barrier descended from the sky, blocking his path.

The Golden Bowl—the one he’d shattered—had reappeared above Xuan Ming’s head, now glowing with radiant golden light, forming a protective dome.

The surviving elders sat cross-legged, channeling their spirit force, driving the bowl’s power.

Lu Qing swung his blade—only to find the barrier impossibly strong.

Stronger than even at Sheng Shan.

Even at full power, he couldn’t break through.

"Truly, one of the Four Secret Places," Lu Qing murmured, impressed. "You held back even then."

But the praise fell like mockery in Xuan Ming’s ears.

They’d used most of the Golden Bowl’s power to suppress and convert Old Doctor—that’s how Lu Qing had broken through.

Now, the boy mocked them.

Xuan Ming’s calm was gone.

His face twisted with rage.

"Your violence is unforgivable!" he shouted. "My disciples have never wronged you! You’ve slaughtered them without cause—you’ve fallen into darkness!"

"Of course you’re good at labeling others," Lu Qing said, not even looking up. "But tell me—how long can that turtle shell protect you?"

He took a stance, focused his spirit, and drew power into his blade.

A blade aura, sharp as a blade of fate, began to form.

The air trembled.

The sheer killing intent radiating from him made even the strongest onlookers tremble.

They knew—this next strike would be catastrophic.

Inside the golden dome, Xuan Ming felt the pressure, the danger.

But he didn’t flinch.

He saw the wounded monks were now stabilized under the Buddha Beads.

He withdrew the beads—then reached into his robes, pulling out an object.

He tossed it forward.

It grew instantly, expanding in the air.

A golden Vajra—three feet long, blazing with radiant gold.

The Vajra hovered before Xuan Ming.

He sat cross-legged, eyes locked on Lu Qing.

No more pretense. No more mercy.

Only death.

"Little brat," Xuan Ming said, voice like stone. "Since you’ve fully embraced the path of darkness… then I’ll have no mercy. Die."

The Vajra flared with blinding light.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end