Chapter 317: Crushed to a Pulp, Plague!

Lu Qing unleashed a single Sword Qi, instantly obliterating Qi Jia Lao Er. The shockwave rippled through the courtyard, silencing everyone in an instant. Every gaze now fixed upon him carried a new reverence—deep, instinctive awe. Even the other Xian Tian Jing Qiang Zhe, masters of their realm, felt their hearts tremble.

They, too, could wield Sword Qi. But the power they commanded paled into insignificance compared to what Lu Qing had just demonstrated. His Sword Qi had gathered the combined essence of Heaven and Earth, rolling forward like a crushing tide, annihilating all resistance. Such a terrifying display—beyond comprehension. They couldn’t even fathom how he had achieved it. Only someone like the Qinglong City Lord, who had barely begun to grasp the mysteries of the Xian Tian Jing Wan Man Yi realm, could detect the faintest hint of the truth.

Silence blanketed the yard. All eyes were on Qi Jia Lao Da, waiting to see what he would do. Would he bow? Or would he stand his ground, declaring war on this boy to the death?

Those who disliked the Qi Jia family couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction. For years, Qi Jia had ruled Qinglong City with an iron fist—armed with their numerous Xian Tian Jing masters, they had seized resources, bullied the weak, and trampled justice. Now, they were eager to see how this mighty clan would fare against Lu Qing’s unyielding might.

Qi Jia Lao Da felt the weight of a hundred stares. Calmly, he suppressed his emotions, regaining his composure. Then, with deliberate respect, he bowed deeply before Lu Qing.

“Esteemed young master,” he said, voice measured, “it was our family who wronged you earlier. We beg your forgiveness. We offer a generous gift as recompense—please accept our apology.”

Everyone froze.

They had expected Qi Jia Lao Da to concede. But never had they imagined he would lower himself so completely. After all, two of his family’s Xian Tian Jing masters had been shattered by Lu Qing—Qi Jia Lao Er, the younger brother, was on the brink of death, his survival uncertain.

Yet here he stood, humbled, swallowing his pride.

A wave of unease washed over the onlookers. This wasn’t mere submission—it was a chilling display of restraint.

“Interesting,” Lu Qing murmured, slightly surprised by the man’s posture. He studied Qi Jia Lao Da carefully, his gaze lingering on the faint, floating words appearing in his vision.

Then, one phrase caught his eye.

His expression darkened instantly.

Qi Jia Lao Da, sensing the silence and the piercing gaze, felt a chill crawl up his spine. He thought the young man refused to forgive.

Gritting his teeth, he raised a hand. A gust of wind howled as he summoned Qi Wen Zheng from the corner with a sudden, forceful pull.

“Uncle! What are you doing?!” Qi Wen Zheng cried out in terror, struggling wildly.

But Qi Jia Lao Da ignored him. He fixed his eyes on Lu Qing and spoke with cold finality:

“Master, if all this trouble stems from this boy, then I shall give you a proper reckoning.”

With lightning speed, he raised his right palm and slammed it into Qi Wen Zheng’s forehead.

The strike was brutal. Qi Jia Lao Da’s cultivation was immense—Qi Wen Zheng, merely a Hou Tian Jing warrior, had no chance. The moment the palm struck, Qi Wen Zheng stiffened. His eyes glazed over, his body went limp, and he collapsed—lifeless.

The sudden, shocking execution stunned everyone.

No one had expected Qi Jia Lao Da to kill his own nephew without hesitation.

“Wen Zheng!” Qi Jia Lao Er screamed in anguish, disbelief twisting his face. “Brother, what are you doing?!”

“Silence!” Qi Jia Lao Da roared. “This wretch dared to provoke this young master—bringing ruin upon our family. I regret I wasn’t there to kill him myself. If I had, you and Lao Er wouldn’t have been caught in the fallout. Now, dying at the hands of this master is his greatest honor.”

The words, though plainly theatrical, carried a chilling conviction. Even the most skeptical felt a shiver of respect—such brazen self-righteousness, such cold-blooded logic, was a kind of mastery in itself.

But Qi Jia Lao Da’s focus never wavered from Lu Qing.

Yet to his shock, Lu Qing showed no reaction—no anger, no satisfaction. His face remained blank as he stared at the corpse of Qi Wen Zheng.

Qi Jia Lao Da’s heart skipped a beat.

He bowed again, voice trembling slightly. “Master, if there is anything more you require, please speak. I will fulfill any demand. I only ask that you accept our surrender—let peace be restored.”

But Lu Qing remained impassive.

Slowly, he raised his head, lips curling into a faint, almost mocking smile.

“Impressive decision,” he said. “To preserve yourself, you cut down your own nephew without hesitation. But your method… was too gentle. Let me help you finish the job.”

He flicked a finger.

A thin, invisible thread of force shot forth, striking the Heart Meridian of Qi Wen Zheng’s corpse.

Qi Jia Lao Da’s face paled. He instantly countered with a Sword Qi, shattering the attack.

“Master,” he said, voice strained, “are you truly so relentless? You’ve already taken lives—must you now desecrate a corpse to satisfy your vengeance?”

“Desecrate?” Lu Qing chuckled softly. “Are you certain your nephew is truly dead?”

“I don’t understand your meaning,” Qi Jia Lao Da replied calmly. “If you doubt it, examine the body yourself. But the dead deserve respect. I urge you—do not dishonor him. It will only tarnish your own dignity.”

“No need,” Lu Qing shook his head. “Whether he lives or dies is of no concern to me. And did I ever say that his death would end our matter?”

“What do you mean?” Qi Jia Lao Da’s face turned ashen.

“The meaning is clear,” Lu Qing said, his eyes growing darker. “You sacrificed your own blood for survival—your resolve is cold, your mind ruthless. If you were me, would you leave such a loose end unattended? And more importantly… do you truly believe your crimes remain hidden?”

The words struck like a hammer.

Qi Jia Lao Da’s face contorted in horror.

Without hesitation, he bellowed: “Attack!”

In a flash, he drew a broken sword. His Zhen Qi flared like wildfire, his body igniting with blazing energy. With a roar, he launched himself forward—like a bolt of lightning—toward Lu Qing.

At the same time, the several guest Xian Tian Jing elders behind him activated their powers, forming a coordinated formation, descending upon Lu Qing with overwhelming force.

The sudden shift left the onlookers stunned. Who could have predicted that the man who had just begged for mercy would now strike with such ferocity?

Eyes widened. Hearts pounded. Everyone held their breath—watching to see if Lu Qing could survive this onslaught.

“Idiot!” The Qinglong City Lord cursed silently. Qi Jia Lao Da was formidable—nearly on par with him, having reached the mastery level of Xian Tian Jing. And with the seasoned elders supporting him, their combined formation was terrifying.

But still—was it enough?

Lu Qing had already shattered the Fa Zhen of the monks from Xuan Kong Shan. What chance did this crude assault have?

“Die, you little monster!” Qi Jia Lao Da roared, his sword slashing through the air, forming a storm of blades. The broken sword pulsed with raw, violent energy.

Behind him, the elders unleashed their ultimate techniques—crushing the space around Lu Qing with overwhelming pressure.

They believed, in their hearts, that even a Xian Tian Jing Wan Man master couldn’t survive such a coordinated strike. How could a bare-handed youth, no matter how skilled, hope to withstand it?

The onlookers shivered. If it were them, they would have already been pulverized.

But Lu Qing… did not flinch.

With a calm hand, he lifted his palm and closed it in midair.

“Still.”

The moment the word left his lips, the impossible happened.

Every motion—Qi Jia Lao Da’s blinding charge, the elders’ crushing attacks—froze in place.

Like insects trapped in a spider’s web, they were utterly still.

The sudden silence, the reversal from extreme motion to absolute stillness, sent chills down every spine.

The violent backlash of their own Zhen Qi tore through them. Blood sprayed from their mouths. Severe internal injuries flared.

Their eyes widened in terror.

But that was not all.

Lu Qing’s palm rose once more, then pressed down.

“Crush.”

A crushing, overwhelming force descended.

Their bodies grew impossibly heavy—dozens of times heavier than before.

No matter how hard they struggled, how fiercely they unleashed their power—nothing worked.

They were dragged downward, like stones, sinking into the earth.

Boom!

The ground beneath them collapsed—sinking several feet in a radius of several zhang.

Yet not a single speck of dust rose. The air remained unnaturally still. All particles clung to the soil.

Qi Jia Lao Da and the elders were flattened into the ground—pressed into the earth like flesh pies.

The sight was grotesque. Blood seeped into the soil, forming dark, spread-out stains—resembling crude, human-shaped pancakes.

A wave of icy dread swept through the crowd. The very air seemed to freeze.

“Brother!” Qi Jia Lao Wu, who had stayed far enough away to escape the collapse, let out a scream of agony. He could feel his brother’s life force fading—dissipating.

They were gone.

“Demon!” Qi Jia Lao Wu screamed, eyes blazing red. “You monster! Give me back my brother!”

“Demon?” Lu Qing smiled faintly. “Compared to what your family has done… this is nothing.”

He turned his gaze to Qi Jia Lao Wu.

“Qi Tian Chuan. Do you truly believe your deeds in Feng Zhou remain unknown?”

“What?” Qi Jia Lao Wu froze, his blood turning to ice. He stared at Lu Qing, trembling.

“Feng Zhou?” The crowd murmured in confusion.

Only those with deeper knowledge, those who had heard rumors, suddenly went pale. Their eyes widened, darting between Qi Jia Lao Wu and Lu Qing.

“If you hide your sins, you must never do them,” Lu Qing said calmly. “The sins you committed in Feng Zhou—though buried well—were not hidden from the heavens. The threads of fate cannot be erased by a mere family.”

Qi Jia Lao Wu trembled. His face drained of color. “Impossible… you can’t know about that! Who are you?”

The fear in his voice was unmistakable.

Now, even the strongest warriors in the courtyard realized: Qi Jia Lao Wu was hiding something.

One elder shouted, voice sharp:

“Feng Zhou! Qi Jia Lao Wu! Could it be… that the Plague in Feng Zhou was your doing?!”

“Feng Zhou Plague?!”

“That Plague was caused by Qi Jia?!”

“Was it even natural?!”

“I always thought it was suspicious… now it makes sense!”

“Over ten thousand dead… this family is monstrous!”

The murmurs grew louder, more furious.

“Plague?” The Old Doctor, who had been silently guarding Xiao Yan, suddenly paled.

“A Qing,” he said, voice low and urgent, “is this true?”

“It is,” Lu Qing replied. “After seeing Qi Jia’s aura, I deduced it.”

The Old Doctor’s face turned ashen. When he heard the number—ten thousand dead—the weight of it crushed him.

He had thought Lu Qing had been too harsh. But if Qi Jia had truly unleashed a Plague… then they deserved a thousand deaths.

“You’re lying!” Qi Jia Lao Wu shrieked. “You’re spewing venom! You killed so many of my family, and now you blame us for something you made up? City Lord—will you stand by and let this be?!”

The Qinglong City Lord, who had been hiding in the shadows, felt his heart lurch.

Damn it—he dragged me into this!

But it was too late.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end