Chapter 58: Shaken! A Head-Chopping Demon Has Arrived in Fucheng!

「......」

Lao San didn’t even have time to scream.

His face, still frozen in a lewd grin, was cleanly split in two by the flashing blade.

His hand remained stiffly raised in the act of opening the door, while his body slowly toppled sideways into two separate halves.

Inside the room, the expressions on Lao Yi and Lao Er’s faces froze solid.

Fast!

Too fast!

This sudden scene left them momentarily stunned, unable to react.

Until—

Thud…

The two halves of the corpse hit the ground one after another; blood gushed out like a dam breaking, instantly staining the threshold and splattering the doorframe.

They finally snapped back to reality.

Their third brother was slashed to death by someone with a knife?!

“Lao San!!!”

Two roars erupted simultaneously—Lao Yi and Lao Er, eyes blazing with fury, charged toward the door.

But the doorway was empty.

As if the killer who had just severed their brother was a ghost.

“Where is he?!”

“Who are you?! Come out, you coward!!!”

They stared at the empty doorway, exchanging glances.

On their faces, beyond the raging fury, there was also a chilling dread.

Lao San was a master of Hua Jing’s late stage—even unprepared, he shouldn’t have been so easily cut down in one blow.

Could it be… a Bao Dan cultivator?!

In the very instant their minds reeled in shock and confusion—

A slash of blade-light suddenly flared from the lower-right blind spot.

What kind of blade-light was that!

It was as crimson as a blood moon, as sharp as frost, carrying suffocating killing intent, aimed straight at Lao Yi’s throat.

“Ahh!!!”

At the brink of death, Lao Yi unleashed the full potential of his perfected Hua Jing.

He roared, his face twisted with a desperate, do-or-die ferocity; his right fist gathered all his strength like an iron hammer, smashing straight toward the blade.

But that blood-moon blade was too swift, too cunning.

Just as his fist neared the edge of the blade, the crimson slash subtly lifted—casually evading his punch—and then—

Shhh!

A thin line of blood appeared on his neck.

“You…”

In his final moment of life, Lao Yi finally saw his attacker.

It was an elderly man in plain gray robes, his hair silver, his face cold and expressionless.

He couldn’t fathom when he’d ever provoked such a ruthless enemy.

His thoughts abruptly ended.

His head rolled to the ground, blood spurting from his severed neck, drenching Lao Er.

“Big brother…”

Witnessing this horrifying scene, Lao Er’s fury vanished instantly, replaced by overwhelming terror.

He had no thought of avenging his brother or third sibling—he turned and fled.

He ran faster and faster, lighter and lighter.

He even felt as if he were flying.

Then he felt the world begin to spin.

He saw his own headless body still sprinting forward, taking a few more steps before collapsing with a thud.

“Could it be…?”

He instantly realized his head had been severed mid-air.

The next instant, his consciousness plunged into eternal darkness.

Thud.

A soft sound.

His head landed on the ground, rolled twice, and came to rest beside his brother’s severed head.

The two brothers now lay neatly side by side.

Jiang Ye stepped slowly out of the shadows, his expression cold and indifferent.

Using the true essence of the Deer Form to mask his aura, he had seized the initiative with a surprise attack and slain three men in succession—it was effortless for him.

He was about to crouch down and search their bodies for loot.

Suddenly, footsteps approached from afar.

It was a young man dressed in luxurious brocade robes, his face pale and smooth, fanning himself lazily, his gait unsteady—clearly a decadent playboy worn out by wine and women.

He hummed a tune, swaying drunkenly toward them, clearly coming to seek amusement from the “Three Wolves of Kanglin.”

“Huh?!”

As he drew near, he suddenly caught a strong stench of blood.

He frowned and looked up.

The scene before him resembled hell itself.

Three corpses lay sprawled on the ground, blood still oozing; under the moonlight, their severed heads stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Ahhhh—!!!”

A scream of pure terror shattered the night’s silence.

“What a nuisance.”

Jiang Ye shook his head indifferently and slashed through the air.

Shhh!

The scream cut off instantly.

The young man’s head slid from his neck, thudding to the ground, his face frozen in terror.

“Sigh…”

Jiang Ye, who had intended to loot the bodies, silently melted back into the shadows.

The dying screams of the “Three Wolves of Kanglin” and this boy’s shriek were enough to rouse half the Ding family.

Deep within the Ding estate, candles burned brightly, yet the atmosphere was frozen like ice.

Several corpses lay sprawled on the floor, partially reassembled but still horrifying to behold.

Three men in official uniforms crouched beside the bodies, examining them closely, their faces growing graver by the moment.

They were officers from the city guard, summoned urgently this very night.

“So ruthless a blade! So swift a blade! So cruel a blade!”

The leader slowly rose to his feet, sighing three times in succession.

He was Wei Cheng, captain of the city guard, a perfected Hua Jing master who had seen countless horrors—but even he was stunned by the scene before him.

All three corpses bore perfectly smooth, mirror-like incisions; each died instantly with barely a struggle.

What kind of speed, what kind of monster could do this?

“My poor son!!!”

A voluptuous, still-beautiful woman sat slumped beside the headless body of the noble youth.

Her hands trembled as she reached out to embrace him, yet dared not touch the bloody, mangled stump of his neck.

She wept uncontrollably, her makeup smeared across her face, tears and snot streaming:

“Mother promises you—no matter who killed you, I will make them pay! I swear it! I swear it!!!”

Beside her stood a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, with a round face and a hint of sinister malice in his brow.

He was Ding Shan, head of the Ding family.

He stared at his son’s headless corpse, at the three servants slaughtered in a single stroke—his chest seethed with boundless rage.

Yet he forced himself to suppress it, showing little on his face.

His brows knitted tightly as his mind raced through possibilities.

He had many enemies.

But he simply could not imagine who possessed the power to slaughter the “Three Wolves of Kanglin” so swiftly.

Unless… it was a Bao Dan cultivator.

Yet he was cautious by nature and had never provoked anyone of such power.

Long silence.

Finally, Wei Cheng finished his examination and rose slowly, walking over to Ding Shan.

His expression was grave, his voice barely above a whisper:

“Lord Ding, after my preliminary assessment, there are no traces of true qi erosion on the corpse. The killer is not a Golden Core cultivator.”

He paused, his gaze sharp as fire:

“It must be a master of the Hua Jing peak, wielding a blade. Think carefully—have you ever made an enemy of such a person?”

Hearing this, Ding Shan frowned and shook his head:

“No. I’ve always dealt with others in goodwill. I’ve never offended a foe of this caliber.”

The beautiful woman sobbing beside him suddenly lifted her head, her voice shrill:

“Husband, isn’t this the Su family’s doing?!”

“Otherwise, how could it be so coincidental—our patron just had a dispute with them today...”

“And now it’s happened tonight! It has to be the Su family!”

“Maybe it was that Liu Qingshi who did it!”

“Quick, send the guard squad to arrest them!”

At these words, Ding Shan’s eyes flickered.

“The Su family? Liu Qingshi?”

Wei Cheng raised an eyebrow and turned to a guard beside him.

The guard, clearly prepared, stepped forward and whispered quickly:

“Captain, we’ve already checked—the Su family is a minor clan that just arrived from Anxi County recently.”

“As for Liu Qingshi, he’s a Hua Jing cultivator of considerable personal strength.”

“This morning, over a commercial dispute, he fought the Kanglin Three Wolves and was badly injured.”

He paused, lowering his voice further:

“Also, Liu Qingshi is on good terms with an Elder from the Xianshui Peak of Tianqing Sect. His daughter has even joined the outer gate of Tianqing Sect.”

Wei Cheng listened, nodded slightly, and already had his thoughts settled.

He looked up at the woman, his gaze cold:

“Madam, you cannot speak without evidence!”

That gaze, like solid ice, pierced her heart and made her shudder.

She opened her mouth to protest, but the pressure of his aura silenced her; she could only glare and shut her lips.

Wei Cheng withdrew his gaze and turned to Ding Shan, bowing respectfully:

“Lord Ding, the night is too dark to examine the traces properly.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring a specialist in this field to conduct a thorough inspection.”

“Goodbye!”

With that, he waved his hand; several guards gathered their tools and followed him out the door.

“Are you going to let the killer live through the night...”

The woman rose, full of resentment, her voice shrill as she opened her mouth.

Ding Shan silenced her with a glance.

Only after the guards’ figures vanished outside did Ding Shan slowly lower his gaze.

He stared at the bodies covered in white cloth, his eyes swirling with complex, unreadable light.

Inside a side room.

“Husband, why didn’t you let me speak? They...”

The woman still wore a face of anguish, lost in grief over her dead son.

“Don’t rely on the authorities,” he breathed deeply, his voice low and icy. “And right now, we have something more important to do.”

“What could possibly be more important than revenge?!”

The woman screamed, her face filled with despair.

Ding Shan ignored her scream and called out firmly, “A Liang, come in!”

Soon, a middle-aged man with a sharp, capable face and piercing eyes stepped quickly into the room.

He bowed slightly, his tone respectful: “Master.”

Ding Shan drew a deep breath, his face like frozen water, and spoke:

“A Liang, now that the Kanglin Three Wolves are dead, our martial strength has a temporary gap.”

“Let some of our business go for now. Once I find a suitable Hua Jing expert, we’ll reclaim it.”

“Also, the house is no longer safe—we’re moving immediately.”

“Until we find out who did this, we must go into hiding.”

He emphasized: “The move must be discreet!”

“Yes, Master!”

A Liang nodded firmly.

“Go and do it quickly!”

Ding Shan waved his hand; A Liang rose to leave.

“Wait.”

Ding Shan suddenly called him back.

He glanced at the weeping woman, then at the night outside the window, and said gravely:

“Though I think the Su family lacks the ability to hire such a powerful warrior...”

He paused, his voice dropping lower, as if squeezed through clenched teeth:

“But it’s too convenient.”

“A dispute this morning—and tonight, disaster strikes!”

“Better to kill the wrong one than let the guilty escape.”

A cold, cruel expression crossed his face:

“A Liang, don’t spare the money.”

“Go hire ‘those people’ to eliminate Su Chen and Liu Qingshi.”

A Liang’s heart clenched; his pupils shrank slightly.

He suppressed his shock and nodded firmly: “Yes, Master. I’ll go at once!”

With that, he turned and strode out the door, his steps swift and steady.

“Enough crying—I’ve already sent someone to handle it!”

Ding Shan glared at the woman, his voice cold:

“I want revenge more than you do!”

“Whoever did this—I’ll make them die without a grave!”

The woman’s sobs continued, but she slowly leaned toward Ding Shan.

Just then—

“Huh?!”

Ding Shan’s brows snapped together; his gaze shot like lightning toward the door.

Outside, a familiar figure stood there, motionless, as if appearing out of nowhere.

It was A Liang, who had just left.

“A Liang, you...”

A dread feeling surged in Ding Shan’s chest; he opened his mouth to ask.

A Liang did not answer.

He simply stood there, eyes vacant, staring at them.

Then, his head slid from his neck.

Thud.

A dull sound.

The head hit the ground, rolled twice, and came to rest precisely at Ding Shan and the woman’s feet.

A Liang’s face still bore the frozen shock of death—as if he never knew how he died.

Plop...

The headless body finally collapsed, blood gushing from the severed neck, instantly staining the threshold.

Ding Shan and the woman’s pupils shrank to needle points.

A bone-deep chill shot from their soles to the crown of their heads, freezing them rigid, as if their blood had turned to ice.

The woman’s sobs ceased entirely.

She opened her mouth to scream—but no sound came out, only a ragged “huh-huh,” like a dying fish.

Ding Shan stood frozen, legs heavy as lead, unable to move a step.

He stared wide-eyed at the doorway.

A figure stepped slowly from the shadows behind A Liang.

An old man, dressed in plain gray robes, his hair streaked white.

In his hand, he held a curved blade, its tip dripping blood drop by drop.

Moonlight streamed through the door, casting a cold, elongated shadow behind him.

"You... are..."

From Ding Shan’s throat, at last came a hoarse, trembling voice.

He wanted to ask—who was this man? Who had he angered?

"Ahh—!!!"

The beautiful woman finally snapped out of her shock and let out a scream of utter terror.

Shhh!

Jiang Ye raised his hand and slashed through the air.

Both their voices cut off instantly.

Thud! Thud!

Two soft thumps.

Both their heads fell from their necks.

Cut the grass but leave the roots, and the spring wind will bring it back.

Jiang Ye understood this principle well.

When the guard unit returned after leaving, and saw the three new headless corpses on the ground, everyone went numb.

"Gul..."

No one knew who swallowed the first gulp of saliva.

"This guy is too ruthless... Is he some kind of head-chopper...?"

A young guard member’s legs went weak, his voice trembling.

Wei Cheng took a deep breath, wanting to say something, but found his own voice shaking too.

He gripped the hilt of his waist knife, knuckles white, yet the chill rising from his core refused to be suppressed.

He was a master of Hua Jing, having seen plenty of bloody scenes.

But tonight’s events still surpassed his imagination.

First he killed Kang Lin’s Three Wolves and the Ding family’s young master—still not enough; he had to strike a second wave, beheading Ding Shan, his wife, and his trusted men too.

And this second wave was a strike right under the lamp’s shadow.

How ruthless!

How insane!

"He’s a madman... a true madman..."

He muttered to himself.

If not for the official uniform he wore, he would have fled the Ding household.

Everyone fell silent.

They stared at the headless corpses on the ground, a single thought rising unspoken in all their minds—

After tonight, a bloody legend of the Head-Chopping Demon would surely arise within Fucheng.