Chapter 865: Chapter 516: Extermination of the Clan! (Part 3)
They were clearly members of the Martial World’s Evil Path, the "White Clothes Sect".
"Zhengyang? That old Confucian?" sneered a leading White-clothed Mage, "Let’s not mention that we don’t follow the commands of Mu Prince Manor. Even if we take ten thousand steps back, you old man still naively think that Zhengyang remains a guest of the Royal Mansion? Ha, this New Study is something even I, the Immortal Master, don’t quite understand, but Zhengyang was once a Tributor under the Prince and willingly became a disciple of Zhao Douan. Ever since he returned to Yunfu last year, he started promoting the New Study... If not for his slight fame, he would’ve been buried alive by the Royal Mansion long ago. Laughable, you old man, so naive and adorable, yet still unaware, thinking that by relying on Zhengyang Sect, you could forge connections with the Mu Prince Manor? Little do you know, the closer you get to that Old Dog Zhengyang, the sooner you meet your demise."
Scholar Song’s body trembled, yet his face suddenly flushed with rage, and he shouted angrily, "You demon cultists of the Martial World dare to insult my master?!"
The White-clothed Mage laughed, "So what if we insult your master? We are going to insult your ancestors as well. Men, dismantle this ancestral hall. Haha, the Song family may be small, but they’ve had a century of worship. By destroying the ancestral hall and desecrating the ancestral tombs, we might barely have enough for a sacrifice to the Sorrow God."
A nearby black-armored officer was extremely wary of these demons, ingratiatingly said yes, then stood up straight, faced stern, and waved his hand: "Tear it down!"
A group of rebel soldiers rushed into the hall like wolves and began to destroy it.
Song Clan members’ eyes turned red immediately, and they rushed like mad to stop them, "You can’t tear it down!"
An old man threw himself onto the ancestor’s altar, trying to protect it, but was cut down by a soldier’s blade. He screamed tragically, fell straight to the ground, yet still clung tightly to the altar, glaring defiantly, refusing to let go.
However, how could a few clan members stop the soldiers? Someone threw a torch, and in an instant, the mourning hall caught fire.
The White-clothed Mage sneered, "Their cries are an eyesore, kill them all."
The old scholar, who had faced death with dignity, refusing to bow even under the threat of swords, stood frozen. Seeing soldiers draw their swords towards the young clan members hiding under the offering table, this fifty-year-old man’s anger suddenly extinguished. Instead, he plastered a fawning smile on his face, knelt rapidly before the White-clothed Mage, and begged, "It was this old fool who misspoke and angered the Immortal Master. I beg the Immortal Master to spare our lives."
As he spoke, he slapped his own face, and seeing that the white-robed man’s smile remained silent, he torefully turned and yelled, "All of you, stop! If the Immortal Master wants it torn down, then tear it to entertain the Immortal Master! What use are these wooden tablets? People...people alive are more important than anything!"
The Song Clan members were stupefied, looking at their Clan Leader in disbelief.
Scholar Song kept cursing and crying, his fingernails piercing his palm deeply, blood flowing freely.
The White-clothed Mages smiled at this scene, praising, "Great crying."
Then their expressions turned cold, "Kill them all. A group of sacrifices thinking they could escape? If not for your family’s little background, we wouldn’t have bothered coming here."
Scholar Song froze, suddenly lunging at the nearest soldier taking a step, grabbing onto his legs, shouting, "Little Wu, run!"
Little Wu was one of the youths hiding under the desk, who had been beaten by Zhao Douan before.
Now, the once rebellious and defiant boy was stunned.
"Old bastard, courting death!" The soldier whose legs were grabbed flashed with fierce eyes, stabbing down with his knife, but in a blur, his arm was suddenly severed.
Coach Xie, lying against the wall, had somehow rushed over, one-armed yet wielding a knife, a crazed expression on his face, "Losing an arm is worth it! Old Manor Master, I, Old Xie, have enjoyed the Song family’s support for ten years. Today, if I can’t protect the Song family, I’ll repay with my life! Kill!"
Behind him, the remaining dozen or so injured family Protectors charged like mad dogs.
"Little Wu, run to the Prefecture and seek help!" A clan member urged the youths under the table to escape from the back of the hall, shouting.