Chapter 480: Goodbye, Xue Xue Ranran

The main gate of Yaoyue Sect was located at the border between Shannan Dao and Jiannan Dao, backed by vast, mist-shrouded mountains and facing a thousand li of open plains—a naturally defensible stronghold.

Now, it was reduced to rubble and crumbling walls, with the reeking stench of blood still lingering in the air.

Chen Mu traveled southward from the northern reaches of Shannan Dao, pausing frequently, entering every Wulong Fucheng he passed to gather information.

City after city flashed beneath his feet; rumor after rumor flooded his ears.

The rumors were numerous, and most centered on Yaoyue Sect.

After all, as one of the Qidawu Sect, its entire clan had been wiped out in a single night—a shockwave that shook the entire world, leaving no one unshaken, no one unalarmed.

Yet the surviving disciples of Yaoyue Sect had vanished as if erased from the earth, with not a single confirmed report emerging.

Chen Mu had traveled across several prefectures, entering every teahouse and tavern he found, his spiritual sense quietly extending like a silent net to catch every possible mention of Yaoyue Sect.

Yet his gains were scant—when someone did mention it, it was only hearsay and speculation: "I heard someone saw a Yaoyue Sect disciple somewhere," or "Rumor has it the remnants fled into Shenshan"—all baseless gossip.

Chen Mu could understand this.

After Yaoyue Sect's annihilation, its surviving disciples became prized targets in everyone's eyes.

A dying camel is still bigger than a horse.

Yaoyue Sect had stood for a thousand years; its disciples carried within them martial arts, techniques, and secret methods—any single one of which could benefit an ordinary cultivator for life.

Under these circumstances, whether righteous factions sought to "shelter" them to claim Yaoyue Sect's legacy, demonic factions aimed to "hunt" them to exterminate the line, or even opportunistic lone cultivators hoped to carve off a piece of flesh from these survivors, all were straining to seize them.

The surviving Yaoyue Sect disciples knew their plight well—they hid deeper than rats.

Chen Mu was desperate, yet powerless.

On this day, Chen Mu arrived at Kuizhou Fucheng, the southernmost prefecture of Shannan Dao.

Kuizhou Fucheng bordered Jiannan Dao; just over a hundred li south of the city lay Yaoyue Sect's former territory—or rather, what had once been its territory.

Chen Mu entered a bustling tavern, ordered a private second-floor room overlooking the street, ordered several dishes and wine, and pretended to sip leisurely, while his spiritual sense had already extended silently, forming an invisible net that covered several surrounding streets.

Countless noisy voices flooded into his consciousness—from the tavern, the streets, the teahouses, the shops…

"... I heard fighting broke out again in Jiannan Dao, sigh..."

"... Grain prices rose again—if this keeps up, we won't be able to survive..."

"... About the Yaoyue Sect incident—do you think it'll spread to our area...?"

Chen Mu's expression remained unchanged; his spiritual sense continued to extend, filtering out the useless noise.

Suddenly, a deliberately hushed conversation reached his ears.

The voices came from a secluded courtyard three streets away.

The speakers were several men, their tones laced with lewd excitement.

"That girl's got fire—before she got Suffered Heavy 【Injury】, she was definitely in the Innate Realm!"

"So fiery, and yet? Still ends up on Young Master's bed? Hehehe..."

"Do you think this girl might be a Yaoyue Sect disciple? When we captured her, that sword technique wasn't ordinary."

"Possible! I thought her swordplay was razor-sharp—nothing like the usual sect styles."

"Yaoyue Sect disciple? Then Young Master will be even more excited!"

"Exactly! In the past, we'd have to bow and scrape before Yaoyue Sect disciples, dare not even breathe loudly. Now... hehe, a disciple of the Qidawu Sect turned into Young Master's plaything—just thinking about it is thrilling!"

Chen Mu's chopsticks paused slightly.

A female Yaoyue Sect disciple?

He set down his wine cup and extended his spiritual sense with greater precision toward the courtyard.

The courtyard was modest, a three-court layout—only average in Kuizhou Fucheng.

In the yard stood seven or eight burly men, each wearing lewd, knowing grins as they stared toward the back courtyard.

In a side room of the back courtyard, a pale-faced, powdered youth was being escorted toward the door by two subordinates.

"You've done well this time!" the youth slapped their shoulders, his eyes already eager to glance inside, "You'll be richly rewarded!"

"Thank you, Young Master!" the two subordinates beamed.

The burly men in the yard gathered around, bowing and scraping in gratitude.

"Enough, enough—get out, keep your distance!"

The youth waved them off irritably and shoved open the door.

Chen Mu's spiritual sense slipped into the room.

The chamber was small, sparsely furnished; against the wall, a young woman lay bound hand and foot on the bed.

She was about twenty, her face as pale as paper, dried blood still clinging to her lips—clearly Suffered Heavy 【Injury】.

Yet even so, her face remained stunningly beautiful—brows like willow smoke, eyes like autumn water, a straight nose, lips faint yet set in a stubborn curve.

Chen Mu's pupils contracted slightly.

He recognized that face.

Xue Xue Ranran.

Shen Ge's junior sister, an inner-disciple of Yaoyue Sect.

Several years ago, when Chen Mu attended the Dragon-Tiger Gathering in Wudicheng, he had met her several times.

Back then, Xue Xue Ranran was only sixteen, newly ranked on the Rising Dragon List—though at the bottom, she was still a genuine prodigy.

Lively and charming, calling Chen Mu "Senior Brother"—a memory that stuck.

Four years later, the youthfulness on her face had faded, replaced by a more refined beauty, and a weariness and depth far beyond her years.

Now, Xue Xue Ranran struggled desperately, her bound limbs chafed raw with blood, yet unable to break the thick hemp ropes.

The youth lunged inside, grabbing her, leering: "Little beauty, don't rush—Big Brother will make you feel good!"

"Get away!"

Xue Xue Ranran hissed, her voice weak but thick with hatred, struggling to pull away.

"Oh, quite the fiery one!" The young man grinned more lewdly, reaching out to tear at her collar.

Xue Xue Ranran struggled fiercely.

At that very moment—

"Plop!"

"Plop!"

Heavy thuds followed behind him as bodies hit the ground.

The young man didn't turn around, waving his hand impatiently. "Are you all deaf? I told you to get out—stay far away!"

He assumed it was those clueless underlings sneaking back again.

But the next instant, an invisible force suddenly descended, lifting him clean off the ground!

The young man's eyes bulged in terror, his limbs flailing wildly in midair, yet he couldn't break free of the unseen restraints.

Like a puppet on strings, he was dragged backward through the air—

"Thud!"

A muffled crash as the man slammed into the courtyard wall three zhang away, then bounced onto the ground.

The crisp snap of breaking bones was clearly audible; blood gushed from his mouth as he writhed on the ground, screaming in agony.

Xue Xue Ranran stared blankly at the scene, too stunned to react.

The light at the doorway dimmed slightly as a figure stepped in slowly.

The newcomer wore a plain blue cotton robe, his face sharp and handsome, his eyes carrying a calmness unnatural for his age.

Hands behind his back, his gaze passed over the writhing young man and settled directly on Xue Xue Ranran's face.

That face…

Xue Xue Ranran's pupils dilated sharply.

She remembered that face.

Four years ago, in Wudicheng, at the Dragon-Tiger Storm Gathering.

That year, Chen Mu had defeated several prodigies on the Rising Dragon List, making his name in a single battle.

Chen Mu stepped into the room, halted before Xue Xue Ranran, looked down at her, and smiled faintly.

"Xue shimei, it's been a long time."

His smile was as gentle as ever, as if meeting an old friend by chance.

Xue Xue Ranran stared, tears suddenly spilling from her eyes.

Not from sorrow, not from fear—but a complex, indescribable emotion: humiliation, relief, disbelief, and the faint warmth of seeing a familiar face in utter despair.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only a choked sob escaped.

Chen Mu said nothing. He knelt, reached out, and gently snapped the hemp ropes binding her wrists and ankles.

The ropes had been tied too tightly; her wrists and ankles bore deep purple-black bruises.

Her limbs were free, yet she didn't move—only stared at Chen Mu, silent tears streaming down her face.

Chen Mu pulled a healing pill from his sleeve and handed it to her.

"Take it first."

Xue Xue Ranran took the pill, her fingers trembling. Then she swallowed it in one gulp.

Her pale complexion regained a faint hint of color.

She lifted her head, about to speak—

Chen Mu suddenly raised a hand, signaling her to be silent.

In his spiritual sense, several qi signatures were rapidly approaching.

Their qi was coarse and brash, brimming with unhidden murderous intent, heading straight for this courtyard.

"Looking for you?" Chen Mu asked.

Xue Xue Ranran's face darkened; she bit her lip and nodded. "It's the Zhao family of Kuizhou. They spotted me when I fled to Kuizhou Prefecture. That Zhao Young Master saw I was injured and wanted to… wanted to…"

She couldn't finish, her eyes filled with shame and hatred. "The Zhao family is a local great clan; their patriarch is a Earth Altar Realm expert. They keep over a hundred retainers. They know I'm from Yaoyue Sect—they want to capture me and force me to reveal Yaoyue Sect's secret cultivation techniques."

Chen Mu gave a slight nod, his expression unchanged.

Outside, the several qi signatures had reached the courtyard gate.

"This is it! The Young Master just sent word—he caught that bitch!" A rough voice shouted.

"Break in! Who dares stop us from getting the Young Master's target?"

"Huh? Why are there so many men lying in the courtyard?"

Heavy footsteps surged forward as over a dozen men burst into the yard, followed by sharp gasps.

Seven or eight thugs lay sprawled across the courtyard, lifeless.

The oily, powdered-faced Zhao Young Master still lay slumped in the corner, several bones broken, still spitting blood.

"Young Master!" someone cried out.

"Who did this?!" The lead man bellowed, his eyes sweeping toward the open door.

Chen Mu stepped slowly out of the room, standing on the threshold, looking down at the men in the yard.

The man was in his thirties, his face thick with muscle, wielding a demon-headed great blade—he was clearly a hardened killer who lived by the edge of his blade.

Behind him stood over a dozen men, all armed, radiating murderous intent.

"Who are you?" the man demanded harshly. "Dare to touch Zhao family members? Do you want to die?"

Chen Mu didn't answer. He simply looked at them calmly.

His gaze was unnaturally calm—so calm it made the man's skin crawl.

He had spent twenty years in Kuizhou Prefecture, seen countless types of people—but never once had he seen such an expression—

That was not the gaze of a young man—it was more like a beast viewing a swarm of ants.

The man's alarm bells rang loud, but the arrow was already on the string—he had no choice but to release it.

He gritted his teeth and swung his blade, roaring.

"Get him! Cut him down!"

Dozens surged forward, blades and swords descending like a storm upon Chen Mu's head and face.

Chen Mu raised his hand.

He raised it casually, as if shooing away a fly disturbing his nap.

Then—

Boom!!!

An invisible force surged from his palm, like a flood bursting forth, like a celestial pillar collapsing.

The force slammed into the crowd; the dozen men flew backward faster than they had charged, as if struck head-on by a stampede of rhinos.

"Thud-thud-thud-thud—"

Flesh and bone smashed into the courtyard wall, into the ground, into each other.

The sound of snapping bones came fast as frying beans; cries were cut off before they could even form.

The man landed at the front, flying the farthest—he crashed straight through the courtyard wall and landed in a water jar in the neighboring yard.

The jar shattered; he lay motionless atop broken tiles, his back caved in with a deep hollow, blood frothing from his mouth.

One move.

Dozens, all eliminated.

【Corpse detected. Collect?】

"Yes!"

Card acquired.

Chen Mu lowered his hand, expression unchanged, as if he had merely done something trivial.

Inside the house, Xue Xue Ranran stepped out, gripping the doorframe; seeing the corpses scattered across the yard, her pupils shrank sharply.

She knew Chen Mu was strong—but she never imagined he was this strong.

Those men weren't masters, but outside, each could fight ten.

Yet before Chen Mu, they couldn't even withstand one move.

Chen Mu turned to her: "How many others are left in the Zhao family?"

Xue Xue Ranran snapped back to herself, took a deep breath, and whispered: "The Zhao family is one of the three great clans of Kuizhou Fucheng. Their main residence is in the eastern quarter. The patriarch, Zhao Zhen Shan, cultivates at the Earth Altar Realm's Three Flowers Converging peak, and is said to have entered seclusion half a year ago—possibly attempting to break into a higher realm. The household employs over a hundred guests, including twenty to thirty Innate Realm cultivators, and two Earth Altar Realm patrons…"

She paused, a complex glint flashing in her eyes: "Brother Chen, you… you saved me. I'm already deeply grateful. The Zhao family's power is too great—please leave quickly. I'll escape in the chaos; they may not catch me."

Chen Mu looked at her, then smiled.

The smile was faint, yet it somehow calmed Xue Xue Ranran.

"Let's go," Chen Mu turned and walked toward the courtyard gate.

"Where?" Xue Xue Ranran froze.

Chen Mu didn't look back: "The Zhao family."

"Brother Chen!"

Xue Xue Ranran's face paled; she rushed forward and grabbed his sleeve: "The Zhao family has over a hundred men, several Earth Altar Realm masters—you're alone…"

"Don't worry," Chen Mu's tone was as calm as if commenting on the weather: "If they dared touch you, they must be ready to pay the price."

He paused, then added: "Shen Ge helped me greatly in the past. You're his junior sister—I won't let you suffer in silence."

Xue Xue Ranran froze, her eyes welling up again.

She bit her lip, released her grip, and fell into step behind him in silence.

Eastern Kuizhou Fucheng—the Zhao family.

A grand mansion with vermilion gates, stone lions guarding its entrance, a royal-issued plaque hanging high above the lintel, proclaiming the Zhao family's three generations of official glory.

Night had fallen; the main gates were shut, but inside, lanterns blazed brightly, faint music drifting through the air.

Chen Mu stood ten paces from the Zhao family's main gate, silently observing the sprawling estate.

Xue Xue Ranran stood behind him, palms slick with sweat.

Chen Mu said nothing—only lifted his foot and brought it down.

Boom!!!

The moment his foot struck the ground, an invisible force erupted outward from him.

The blue stone pavement cracked from the point of impact, fissures spreading like spiderwebs in all directions, extending dozens of zhang in mere instants!

The earth trembled.

The Zhao family's two vermilion gates—three inches thick—were blasted inward by the shockwave, smashing into the courtyard and shattering the shadow wall.

"Who is it?!"

"Intruder!"

"Grab your weapons!"

The Zhao household erupted into chaos.

Figures surged from all sides—some with swords, some with blades, others still half-dressed, clearly dragged from banquets.

Chen Mu stepped over the threshold and entered the Zhao estate.

Xue Xue Ranran gritted her teeth and followed.

The guests, seeing only one man and one woman, first stared in shock—then fury erupted.

"Just two of you? You're asking for death!"

"Cut them down!"