Chapter 125

A figure appeared without warning above the outer reaches of Tianmen Pass.

An elderly man in a black Zhongshan suit, his face stern, his gaze opening and closing with terrifying pressure, surrounded by the complete Law of Thunder.

It was Qin Miesheng, the long-secluded patriarch of the Qin family—a powerful being who had entered the Saint Realm!

At this moment, his hair stood on end, his killing intent nearly solidified into substance. Qin Wushang was his most beloved great-grandson; though not the most gifted, he was the one who pleased him best.

Now he had been brutally slain before the eyes of all factions, his body and soul utterly annihilated!

This was like a slap across his face—and a severing of the Qin family’s finest lineage.

The wrath of a Saint can lay down a million corpses!

“The Qin patriarch… he’s come in person!” Inside the Tianji Pavilion, Zhao Tianji’s face was grim.

The Qingyun Pavilion Master’s eyes sharpened; in an instant, he appeared above the Tianji Pavilion.

Though he radiated no cultivation aura, he stood firm against the terrifying Saintly pressure, his tone calm: “Senior Qin, what has stirred such fury?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Qingyun brat!” Qin Miesheng’s voice boomed like a bell.

“Hand over Jiang Xia? That little beast killed my direct descendant—this feud cannot be reconciled!”

“If Itachi do not hand him over today, I, Qin Miesheng, will level your Tianji Pavilion!”

A Saint’s threat was no empty words!

“Senior Qin, in the Secret Realm, life and death are determined by fate.”

“Qin Wushang destroyed the Starlight Flower meant to save lives first—this already stirred universal outrage. Jiang Xia’s response, though severe, had cause.”

Qingyun spoke without deference or arrogance.

“Nonsense!” Qin Gang roared. “The life of a mere ant cannot compare to my grandson’s! Hand over Jiang Xia—or die!”

Just as Qingyun was about to speak again, several more powerful auras surged into the sky!

“Arrogant!”

From the direction of the Demon-Suppressing Army, a cold voice rang out—General Ye Ting appeared, his iron-blooded killing aura interwoven with Saintly pressure, refusing to yield.

“Qin Miesheng, within Shanhai Pass, Itachi have no right to act so recklessly! Qin Wushang brought his own destruction upon himself—blame no one else!”

“Correct!” Lei Di Lu Wujiu arrived riding ten thousand bolts of lightning, his voice domineering. “Who gave Itachi permission to touch my Night Watchers?”

Then, from the Sword Tomb, a sword qi tore through heaven and earth—Jian Nan Zhu had not come himself, but that single sword intent made his stance clear.

From the Underworld, ghostly energy seethed; the shadow of the Yanluo loomed faintly.

The Wu Alliance, the Su family, the Akatsuki family, and others did not openly declare their stance, but undercurrents stirred—they clearly did not wish to see the Qin family dominate, and seized this chance to suppress the rising Jiang Xia.

The scene froze; multiple Saint-level auras faced off in the sky, laws flickering, space warping, as if a Saint war could erupt at any moment.

Qin Miesheng’s face darkened like stormwater. Though powerful, faced with this united front of peers, he dared not truly ignite a Saint war—the consequences were unbearable for all.

He glared at the Tianji Pavilion, his voice icy: “Fine! Very fine! Itachi all want to protect him? Then my Qin family is not unreasonable!”

“A life for a life—it is natural law! Since Itachi won’t let me kill him, then follow Shanhai Pass’s rules! Demon-Suppressing Army, Itachi tell me: what punishment does one deserve for murdering a comrade?”

The pressure shifted to the Demon-Suppressing Army.

Ye Ting and Lu Wujiu exchanged a glance, brows furrowed.

Shanhai Pass military law was brutal—murdering a comrade was a grave crime, especially under public eyes.

To shield him outright would not only fail to satisfy the crowd, but give the Qin family grounds to strike—and possibly shake troop morale.

After a long pause, Ye Ting spoke, his voice carrying across the land: “Jiang Xia killed Qin Wushang for a reason, but he still violated military law.”

“Death is spared, but suffering is unavoidable!”

“Ruling: strip Jiang Xia of his Colonel rank and all duties. Enforce military punishment: one hundred strikes of the Divine Whipping. To be carried out by… a representative appointed by the Qin family!”

This ruling was both a concession to the Qin family and a desperate measure to preserve life.

The Divine Whipping was a specially crafted SS-class instrument of punishment, designed to strike the soul and cultivation foundation—under one hundred blows, even a Sovereign would barely survive, suffering grave injury—but at least, his life would be spared.

Qin Miesheng snorted coldly; the outcome was not fully satisfactory, but circumstances forced his hand. He hissed: “Fine. But I demand the executioner be from my Qin family—with cultivation at the peak of the Sovereign Realm—and he must strike with full force!”

He would make Jiang Xia pay the most agonizing price!

“Agreed,” Ye Ting gritted out. This was the limit.

The verdict reached the Tianji Pavilion. Jiang Xia’s expression remained calm, as if he had expected it. He gently released Wang Teng’s hand and stood.

“Old Jiang! Don’t go!” Wang Teng struggled to sit up, his white hair making his face even paler, his eyes filled with anxiety and guilt. “It’s my fault… all my fault…”

“Not your fault,” Jiang Xia cut him off, offering a soothing smile. “Rest well. I’ll be back.”

He turned to Ye Lingxi, nodded slightly, signaling her to care for Wang Teng, then turned resolutely and walked toward the Tianji Pavilion’s exit.

The central square of Tianmen Pass had been cleared of onlookers, yet countless eyes still gathered from every direction.

In the center of the square stood a black execution pillar, inscribed with sealing runes.

A Qin family elder, his face cold and ruthless, his aura at the peak of the Sovereign Realm, stood beside it, gripping a long whip of deep gold, the Divine Whipping, radiating a chilling presence.

Jiang Xia walked step by step to the pillar, removed his upper garments himself, revealing a muscular torso crisscrossed with old and new scars, and turned his back to the executioner.

The Qin Sovereign’s eyes flickered with cruelty and satisfaction—Qin Wushang was his own son, and he now longed to tear Jiang Xia into pieces.

“Jiang Xia, violated military law, murdered a comrade—by decree, one hundred lashes! Execute!” announced the Demon-Suppressing Army General overseeing the punishment, his voice heavy.

“First lash!”

The Qin Sovereign showed no mercy—his peak Sovereign spiritual power erupted as he swung the Divine Whipping with full force!

“Crack!!”

A sharp, thunderous crack!

The dark-gold lash struck Jiang Xia’s back, instantly splitting skin and flesh, leaving a deep wound down to the bone.

More importantly, a searing agony targeting his soul and spiritual origin surged through every inch of his body like a tidal wave!

Jiang Xia’s body trembled violently, veins bulging on his forehead, but he clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out—only muffled groans escaped his throat.

“Second lash!”

“Third lash!”

…

Lash after lash fell without pause.

Each one tore through his core, as if shattering his very foundation.

Blood soon soaked his back, dripping down his spine, pooling beneath his feet.

Jiang Xia’s face turned deathly pale, his lips bitten through, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.

Yet he kept his head high, eyes locked forward, his gaze holding no submission—only unyielding resolve.

Around the square, silence reigned—only the sound of the whip striking flesh and Jiang Xia’s stifled breaths echoed.