Chapter 88: Annihilation! Blood Moon Saber Perfected!

Sun Yu nearly fainted from the pain, his legs going weak as he collapsed downward, only to be hoisted midair by Jiang Ye gripping his severed arm.

The agony made him tremble violently; every breath felt like swallowing knives.

Tears and snot smeared his face, his once-pale skin now twisted into an unrecognizable mask.

All traces of his earlier arrogance were gone; his gaze toward Jiang Ye held nothing but bone-deep terror and bitter hatred.

Even if he were stupid, he should have realized by now.

This old man before him was no servant of his family—he was here to kill.

“Spare... spare my life... please, spare me...”

After his piercing screams, his voice broke into ragged pleas for mercy.

His voice dripped with fear and despair, yet deep in his eyes flickered a venomous calculation.

His screams and pleas grew louder, sharper, as if tearing his own throat apart.

He knew that if he screamed loud enough, he could rouse everyone in the mansion.

The servants, the guards, the eight Qi Condensation patrons—if even one heard him, he’d be saved!

Then, this old bastard would be dead!

Yet, as time slowly passed...

The vast mansion seemed as if everyone had fallen into a deep slumber, eerily silent.

No footsteps. No shouts. No response at all.

Sun Yu’s desperate cries had nearly shredded his throat, blood seeping into his throat, yet not a single reply came.

“How could this happen... why is this happening...”

In Sun Yu’s eyes, beyond fear and hatred, a flicker of confusion finally emerged.

It was confusion, bewilderment, disbelief.

Could it be that everyone in the Sun mansion had fallen into a deathlike sleep?

That couldn’t be!

Those lowly servants had no right to sleep at this hour—they should be working, patrolling, serving.

And weren’t the eight Qi Condensation patrons hired for their sharp senses?

How could they possibly not hear such a commotion?

Why is this happening!!!

Jiang Ye seemed to sense Sun Yu’s confusion. He gazed at him coldly and said softly:

“You’re wondering why, despite screaming so loudly, no one came to save you, aren’t you?”

He paused, a cold smile tugging at his lips:

“Let me tell you why.”

With that, Jiang Ye loosened his grip, letting Sun Yu crash to the ground.

Thud!

Sun Yu slammed hard onto the floor; the stump of his arm sent searing pain through him, but he ignored it.

This pampered young master, who’d never walked far in his life, now burst with astonishing will to survive under the pressure of death.

Ignoring the agony of bone fragments grinding together, he scrambled to his feet in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, he bolted toward the western wing like a wild dog being chased, stumbling and lurching forward.

The eight Qi Condensation patrons always gathered in the western wing to drink and revel at night!

If he could reach them, lure the old bastard there—he’d be safe! He’d be saved!

With this thought, his weakened legs suddenly regained strength; his speed increased, and he no longer felt the pain from his severed arm.

Along the way, he saw several servants sprawled on the ground, eyes shut, chests rising and falling—they’d been knocked unconscious.

He finally understood why no one had answered his screams.

All these lowly servants had been knocked out by that old bastard.

Then why couldn’t the Qi Condensation patrons hear him either...

Had they been knocked out too?

“No! That’s impossible!”

The moment this thought flashed through his mind, Sun Yu violently shook his head, rejecting the terrifying idea.

They were eight Qi Condensation cultivators!

Eight men!

How could anyone silently knock out eight Qi Condensation cultivators?

He ran faster, more frantically, glancing back repeatedly, terrified the old man would suddenly catch up.

But each time he turned, the old man merely followed behind at the same slow, unhurried pace—like a man strolling a dog—unreachable, inevitable.

Finally, he reached the door of the western wing. Light spilled through the crack—someone was inside.

“Thank heaven, I made it!!!”

In Sun Yu’s eyes, filled with fear and hatred, a glimmer of hope finally sparked.

It was the relief of survival, the wild joy of rescue, and a twisted sense of triumph.

He slammed the door open and roared:

“Are all your ears deaf...”

The next instant.

His voice cut off abruptly.

The door opened not to paradise.

But to hell.

Inside, eight headless corpses lay scattered like mud on the floor.

Some slumped before the wine table, others beside chairs, some against the wall—each neck bore a gruesome, severed wound.

Eight heads lay scattered across the floor like children’s playthings, rolling everywhere.

Some rolled under tables, some into corners, one rested right at the threshold, facing Sun Yu as he entered, its eyes wide open in eternal shock.

The expressions on the eight heads varied—fear, shock, confusion, disbelief.

But all were frozen in the final moment of death, as if they hadn’t even realized how they died.

Blood from the severed necks trickled like tiny streams, staining the entire floor a dark crimson.

The thick stench of blood hit him like a wall, nearly overwhelming him.

This wasn’t hell—what was it?

“Ahh—!!!”

Sun Yu staggered back two steps, his face twisted in horror as he let out a scream that ripped through his throat.

It was more agonizing, more desperate, more terrified than when his arm had been crushed.

In that moment, he finally understood.

Why the sharp-eared Qi Condensation patrons hadn’t heard his screams.

They’d all been killed.

Eight Qi Condensation patrons—all dead!

Trembling, he turned his head slowly.

There, the old man followed behind him, strolling as calmly as if taking a leisurely walk.

Beneath the moonlight, his aged face was calm as still water—as if the corpses on the floor, the eight rolling heads, meant nothing to him.

Sun Yu stared at Jiang Ye like he was a demon, his voice hoarse and trembling: “You... you killed them all...”

Jiang Ye did not answer his question. Instead, a mocking expression crossed his face.

He spoke softly, his tone laced with mockery: “Not running anymore? Want to think of someone else who might save you?”

“You... you...”

At these words, Sun Yu’s heart lurched; a cold chill shot from his soles to the crown of his head.

His parents’ faces flashed through his mind.

Why hadn’t they heard his screams either?

Could it be...

A terrifying thought exploded in his mind like thunder.

“No! Impossible!”

He screamed like a madman and bolted toward the central chamber.

Watching his frantic retreat, Jiang Ye sneered and followed calmly behind.

“Huh... huh...”

Running too fast, too hard, Sun Yu felt his lungs might burst; he gasped for air.

Finally, he reached his father’s room.

The room glowed brightly, golden-orange light seeping through the paper windows, warm against the dark night.

But Sun Yu’s heart grew heavier, colder—as if an invisible hand had clenched his heart in a death grip.

He swallowed hard, then pushed the door open with trembling care.

Creak.

A soft sound.

The door opened.

First to catch his eye were two maids collapsed on the floor, their breathing steady, chests rising and falling—they had merely been knocked unconscious.

His heart eased slightly.

If the maids were unharmed, then his parents must be too...

His gaze shifted, and Sun Yu’s pupils contracted sharply.

On the bed lay two headless corpses side by side.

The familiar robes, the familiar build, the horrifying stumps at their necks.

That vivid crimson blood stabbed into his eyes, plunging him into darkness—he nearly fainted on the spot.

“How could this happen...”

Sun Yu stumbled backward out of the room, his mind on the verge of collapse.

What had allowed him to bully others and run rampant within Fucheng if not his parents’ endless protection?

Since childhood, no matter how great his misdeeds, his father always smoothed things over, his mother always shielded him.

Now, those who protected him were gone.

This second-generation heir finally felt the sky collapsing.

Trembling, he turned back—and saw the old man standing silently behind him, expressionless.

“You... you devil...”

Sun Yu stared at Jiang Ye, nearly broken by terror; his fear choked his voice, leaving only a hoarse, ragged gasp from his throat.

His legs shook, his lips trembled, his whole body quaked—as if he might disintegrate at any moment.

Jiang Ye ignored his curses, still wearing that mocking, cat-toying-with-a-mouse grin: “Still running?”

Hearing this, Sun Yu’s body erupted in gooseflesh. Fueled by terror, his nearly spent body summoned one final burst of strength and fled blindly.

“Wait—what about Third Uncle? He... he must be able to save me...”

Sun Yu suddenly remembered the family’s former pillar.

Third Uncle, who had once reached the peak of Hua Jing, had grown old, his vital energy waning; he had lived secluded deep within the Sun family compound, rarely showing himself.

Sun Yu hadn’t seen him in over a year—he’d completely forgotten such a stabilizing force still existed in the household.

With every last ounce of strength, as if draining every drop of flesh and blood, he sprinted toward the small room deep in the courtyard.

Finally, he saw a faint glimmer of light.

Through that sliver of light, he glimpsed a figure seated beside a table.

“It’s Third Uncle! He’s still awake!”

Summoning his final strength, he staggered to the door and flung it open.

Inside sat an elderly man, thinning hair, pale as death, rigidly still, a book still clutched in his hand.

His entire aura was gone—he was like a wax statue, utterly motionless.

“Third Uncle!!!”

Sun Yu screamed with all his remaining strength, his voice thick with desperate hope: “Save me...”

His cry seemed to stir a breath of night wind.

The next instant.

The old man’s head slipped cleanly from his neck—with a dull *thump*—it hit the ground, rolled twice, and came to rest at Sun Yu’s feet.

Those cloudy, aged eyes stared directly at Sun Yu’s terrified face, pupils dilated and vacant, as if still whispering the confusion of death.

“Ahh...”

Sun Yu shattered completely.

He felt as if his soul had been ripped away; he staggered backward two steps, each footfall crushing his own legs, like a walking corpse.

Then he could stand no longer—his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, tears and snot smeared across his face.

At that moment.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps approached—Jiang Ye had followed.

He looked at the nearly broken Sun Yu, and on his aged face, a faint, satisfied smile finally appeared: “Won’t run anymore, I suppose.”

But he had still underestimated the boy’s bottomless depravity and will to survive.

“Don’t kill me... please, don’t kill me...”

Nearly shattered, Sun Yu struggled to his knees, crawling to Jiang Ye’s feet, pounding his head against the ground as he begged.

His forehead slammed into the earth with heavy *thuds*, flesh and bone crushed, yet he felt nothing.

“My sister... my sister is from the Feng family! You can’t kill me! Or the Feng family will never let you live...”

The moment he spoke, he realized—threatening Jiang Ye now was suicide.

He shuddered violently, instantly changing his tone, voice twisted with groveling flattery and terror: “My sister’s beautiful—she’s got a perfect figure, famous for her beauty. If you spare me, I’ll let her sleep with you...”

Jiang Ye shook his head slightly.

In terms of sheer shamelessness, this boy was top-tier.

The game was over. He had no patience left for this brat’s nonsense.

He drew the gleaming, icy curved blade.

Under the moonlight, its edge glowed with a cold, spectral light, reflecting Sun Yu’s contorted, despairing face.

Sun Yu stared at the blade—his pupils shrank to needle points.

He opened his mouth, wanting to scream, to run, to...

*Shhhhh—!!!*

A flash of blade.

All fell silent.

Jiang Ye felt something, and smiled faintly.

The Blood Moon Blade was complete.