Capítulo 907: Chapter 535: The Brisk Autumn Air Invites Murder (Finale) (Part 2)
The old man holds a gray smoke pipe, calmly lifts his foot, steps over the blood-colored Hexagram, walks to Zhao Rong’s side, lifts one foot, and with a ‘bang,’ steps on the coal-like side of Zhao Rong’s forehead.
He bends slightly, calmly lowers his gaze, and looks at the disfigured and one-armed young Confucian Scholar:
“Looking like this, even if I let you go back, will those beloved beauties be able to accept what you’ve become? Heh…”
The disfigured old Confucian Scholar’s lips curl into a slight arc.
Mocking smiles on both flesh and spirit.
“Now we are both stray dogs.”
On the ground, the black-as-coal man whose head is stepped on by the old man grits his burned black teeth tightly. He swallows the moans that continuously overflow from his throat, his indistinctly burned lips tremble slightly.
As if saying something.
The whispering Zhao Rong props himself on the ground with his elbows, trying to lift his head, but the disfigured old Confucian Scholar presses down hard, making his head unable to move in the slightest. His dark blood-filled eyes droop slightly, like dim, dry Stars.
Qin Jianfu gazes down at the man beneath him who seems less than human, his foot shifting from stomping to prodding.
With the old man’s toe lifting his chin, he then lowers his head, calmly scrutinizing the familiar yet strange ‘face’ beneath him.
Yes, it’s already a mass of bloody flesh, with the hand previously covering the face stuck in it.
The one-armed Confucian Scholar has only a pair of dim star-like eyes left, filled with blood vessels.
His eyelids droop like two thin pieces of coal.
His chin is lifted by a foot, looking up at the Great Hall’s ceiling studded with Luminous Pearls, without glancing at the old man looking down from above.
The one-armed Confucian Scholar murmurs in his mouth.
Qin Jianfu turns his head slightly, as if wanting to listen closely to what he is trying to say.
The one-armed Confucian Scholar murmurs another monosyllabic word, then silently tears off the ‘hand on his face,’ with the palm showing a mix of black, red, and white, his five fingers trembling into a fist, raising it.
Slowly hammering towards Qin Jianfu’s old face.
Expecting someone to beg for mercy before death, the old man nods slightly, grabs the slowly approaching fist with his dry hand, casually twists his middle finger, and completely breaks it.
The broken finger hangs from the palm.
No longer able to form a fist.
Beside a Heart Lake, a Purple-clothed Sword Spirit sits knee-hugging, not caring for its image. It doesn’t look at the brutal scene outside but watches a certain someone’s Heart Lake with perplexed yet silent eyebrows.
On the Heart Lake’s surface, the color that contends with the painful and deadly hues is still the ‘calm color’ that the Purple-clothed Sword Spirit finds very beautiful.
It suddenly feels that even if there’s a big chance of dying here along with the indifferent bastard Sword Master, witnessing such a beautiful and interesting Heart Lake before death doesn’t seem too bad.
The Purple-clothed Sword Spirit stretches out a finger as if tidying a lock of hair near its temple, then lowers its gaze, gradually resting upon a dark blue, glass-colored Dragon Carp beneath the Heart Lake’s surface. It looks at this Dragon Carp coiling above a certain boundary line with curiosity…
Inside the Great Hall, a disfigured one-armed Confucian Scholar’s lips tremble, seemingly murmuring another monosyllabic word.
This time, Qin Jianfu seems to hear it clearly, his eyelids lift slightly, and the next moment, with a solid ‘bang,’ Zhao Rong’s head flies back, his body rolls several times, stopping its momentum as it’s blocked by a three-legged cauldron at the southeast corner of the Great Hall.
After kicking away the one-armed disfigured Confucian Scholar, the old Confucian Scholar furrows his brows slightly, looking around.
“Eight?”
The dying one-armed Confucian Scholar seemed to be murmuring the monosyllabic word ‘eight.’
Is it…
Qin Jianfu scans the empty Great Hall with eyes as sharp as an eagle’s, yet before he can be fully alert, a beautiful and melodious song suddenly arises within the Great Hall.
Or rather.
It only arises at his ear.
Today, the old man returning to the Golden Core Realm hears the Whale Song.
“…Nine…Ten.”
Within the Great Hall, a Confucian Scholar from Fu Yao Realm who heard the song long before murmurs a sentence, but this time, Qin Jianfu has no time to hear it.
He suddenly lowers his head to look at his hand, frightfully realizing that his Spiritual Energy Cultivation has completely disappeared!
The Fourth Grade Golden Core that provided him with inexhaustible, powerful Spiritual Power now seemed like a duck whose throat has been strangled, unable to call out its loud voice, silenced completely.
It was the Whale Song Amber, a North Sea magical incense that Qian’er casually gave Zhao Rong on a sleepless night for protection in Great Li’s Hanjing, not even the strongest Golden Core Realm cultivator can last more than ten seconds!
Beside a Heart Lake, the knee-hugging Purple-clothed Sword Spirit suddenly stands up, the face! It’s the face! It turns out Zhao Rong preemptively applied Whale Song Amber on his face! Then intentionally angered Qin Jianfu, subtly guiding the old man to ‘return the favor with the same method,’ using flames to disfigure him! Subsequently, the blood-stained face with Whale Song Amber ignited, along with Zhao Rong’s roasted meat fragrance, unexpectedly inhaled by Qin Jianfu…
Even Gui can’t help but feel emotionally moved at this moment, and just then, from the corner of its eye, it notices the swirling dark blue, glass-colored Dragon Carp above the boundary line, its figure now vanished…
Inside the Great Hall, the atmosphere is dead silent.
With his Golden Core ‘extinguished,’ the old man is momentarily filled with terror. As if detecting some movement, he suddenly lifts his head like a startled bird.
In his vision, the figure, originally collapsed in the southeast corner, stands up slowly.
“What have you done!? What is this song!” Qin Jianfu rages with immense fury.
At this moment, the young Confucian Scholar, previously lying on the ground in agonizing moans, seems abruptly changed to another person.