Chapter 66: How Do You Want to Die?

At Yang Zhuri's words, the young girl seemed consumed by despair.

She wept silently in her grief, casting an impossibly frail glance toward her older brother.

The boy remained on the stone slab, the wound at his neck still seeping blood.

He stared at the sky, his eyes completely unmoving.

Perhaps sensing his sister's gaze, his lips twitched as if he wanted to speak. Yet his throat managed only the faintest rasp; he could produce no other sound.

The girl's tears fell even faster, streaming down her cheeks.

"Brother."

Still curled on the stone slab, she clutched her brother's hem with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, desperately smothering her sobs against her palm. Only a few fragmented, animal-like whimpers slipped through her fingers.

Yang Zhuri watched her cry, though his peach-blossom eyes held no pleasure.

He merely tilted his head slightly. The look in his eyes was like that of a child crouching under a tree to watch ants move their nest—once he had seen it, he was bored.

"What are you crying for?" he asked casually. "Everyone has to die. It's only a matter of time.

Your parents are dead, and your sister is likely going to die too. What's the point of you and your brother staying alive?"

The girl trembled even more violently.

Yang Zhuri looked away, lifting his head to glance toward the courtyard gate.

"Why aren't they here yet?" he murmured, his brows knitting together as a flash of impatience crossed his peach-blossom eyes.

Right at that moment.

Footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate.

Yang Zhuri's brow smoothed out. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, and he eagerly employed his qi-viewing technique.

He instantly sensed a thick, swirling aura rising just beyond the gate. It coiled upward, shooting straight into the sky like an invisible pillar of smoke.

It had been a long time since Yang Zhuri had seen medicinal material of this caliber.

"Excellent medicine," he murmured in praise. Taking a small bronze bell from his sleeve, he rang it.

At the chime, the hunched Old Servant emerged from the side hall's archway and opened the front courtyard gate.

The silver-armored man strode in and deposited the person he was carrying onto another stone slab by the pool.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes shut tight. He remained perfectly motionless, like a corpse freshly dragged from freezing water.

It was the official bondservant from the Baosu Marquis Residence.

Yang Zhuri's gaze landed on Chen Lingxi, his smile deepening.

The young girl by the pool seemed to have completely given up, curling quietly in place like a scrawny statue frozen to the stone.

Yang Zhuri paid little mind to her reaction.

He turned and lifted his chin toward the silver-armored man.

Understanding the silent order, the armored man offered a cupped-fist salute and backed out of the courtyard.

Only Yang Zhuri, the Old Servant, and the three people of uncertain life or death on the stone slabs remained in the yard.

Yang Zhuri looked down, staring at Chen Lingxi.

Standing by the pool, his peach-blossom eyes were full of amusement, as if he were looking at a treasure about to fall into his hands.

He simply stared at Chen Lingxi's pale face.

Until that face suddenly twitched, and those tightly shut eyes opened.

Chen Lingxi awoke, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Eight bronze furnaces had been lit around the pool.

Yang Zhuri was beaming, but Chen Lingxi did not look at him.

His gaze bypassed Yang Zhuri and the bronze lamps, landing on the young boy and girl.

The boy had a terribly deep gash across his neck; the dark red blood had already stopped flowing.

The girl was curled up beside him, clutching his clothes with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.

Yang Zhuri paced to the edge of the pool. He reached out with remarkably well-formed hands and pointed at the dark green water.

"From now on, you are no longer an official bondservant of the Baosu Marquis Residence."

His clear, crisp voice echoed through the courtyard.

"You are the slave of Yang Zhuri."

He paused, then pointed to the eight bronze lamps.

"Today, I have prepared this bronze-furnace blood pool for you."

"With this bronze furnace, this blood pool, the array branded into you by that jade pendant, and the blood sacrifice of this boy and girl, all you have to do is lie here and drink blood every day. You will provide qi for my cultivation, and you will never again have to be a lowly servant sweeping floors, fetching water, or arranging flowers!"

He lifted his chin, staring down at Chen Lingxi with supreme arrogance.

But he suddenly realized that Chen Lingxi wasn't looking at him.

Chen Lingxi was looking at the girl curled on the stone slab.

The girl was looking right back at him.

The two of them simply locked eyes.

Chen Lingxi's gaze was deep and quiet, impossible to read.

Tears were no longer visible in the girl's eyes. All that remained was a thin, faint, almost transparent glimmer. She was like an oil lamp on the verge of burning out, its final spark trembling in the wind, ready to extinguish at any second.

Yet, stubbornly, it hadn't gone out.

She watched Chen Lingxi, her eyes shifting slightly, as if she were worried about and pitying this person who had been captured just like her.

"Quite a kindhearted person."

Chen Lingxi finally turned his head back, his gaze settling on Yang Zhuri.

Yang Zhuri's handsome face still bore a smile.

Meeting his eyes, Chen Lingxi suddenly spoke. "How do you want to die?"

His tone was flat, his question softly delivered.

Yang Zhuri stared blankly for a moment, unable to process the words.

But Chen Lingxi had already stood up. His movements were remarkably unhurried.

Even the Old Servant hadn't expected this. Surprise flashed through his eyes, and he instantly took a step forward, his own qi and blood surging to life.

This Old Servant was also a cultivator.

Yang Zhuri, however, waved a hand to stop him.

He tilted his head and studied Chen Lingxi, a spark of interest dancing in his peach-blossom eyes.

"What did you... just say?"

As he spoke, golden light radiated from his body. Wisps of blood-red energy shone within the gold, suppressing the surrounding air until it hissed. His aura was even more tyrannical than a typical expert at Golden Body Great Completion!

"Golden Body Great Completion—"

Yet Chen Lingxi ignored the pressure. He raised his head and met Yang Zhuri's peach-blossom eyes.

"I'm asking whether you want me to sever your neck with a single slash, or smash your skull to pieces."

Astonishment crossed Yang Zhuri's exceptionally handsome face, instantly twisting into absolute fury.

Golden light erupted around him, and a Purple-Gold Wheel faintly manifested. He looked like a pure gold Buddhist statue suddenly opening its glaring eyes. The spinning wheel hummed and vibrated, suppressing the flames of the nearby bronze lamps down to mere flickers!

Stirred by his momentum, the white mist over the pool suddenly churned, thrashing wildly across the water like a startled white python.

"You certainly have a lot of nerve!"

Yang Zhuri's words were abruptly cut short.

Because Chen Lingxi suddenly reached out and drew a long saber from thin air.

The blade was incredibly long. Faint golden patterns flowed along its spine, stretching all the way from the hilt to the tip.

Under the green light of the bronze lamps, those pale gold patterns gleamed with a spectral, cold radiance, like a golden snake coiled around the steel, spitting frosty glints.

The Gold-Slaughtering Precious Saber!

Yang Zhuri's pupils shrank to pinpricks.

He naturally recognized this weapon.

It was the heirloom saber of Qiu Chihu, son of the Capital Guard Commander!

When Qiu Chihu disappeared at the Beast-Fighting Palace, the precious saber had vanished alongside him.

And now, it had actually appeared in the hands of this official bondservant.

'Could it be that during the beast fight that day, this official bondservant really killed Qiu Chihu?'

But Yang Zhuri had no time to overthink it.

Because blinding lightning suddenly erupted from the saber.

Crackle!

Hair-thin arcs of electricity shot out from the pale gold patterns, buzzing and hissing as they coiled around the edge.

In the blink of an eye, the entire weapon was sheathed in leaping lightning, all of it laced with the Cyan Edge Method!

Having stepped into the Qi Circulation 4th Floor, his Cyan Edge Method had reached the absolute zenith of sharpness.

Cyan light pierced through the blade, intertwining with the lightning.

The cyan glow was simply too sharp—so sharp that it carved countless fine fissures into the very air, carrying a cutting edge that made one's scalp tingle.

Then, Chen Lingxi struck, moving like a sudden thunderbolt!

Slay the Prime Evil!

The first form of the Evil-Slaying Blade Technique exploded outward!

One strike.

Just a single strike.

A flash of lightning tore through the air.

Yang Zhuri tried to dodge, but the slash was too fast. It was so fast that even with his cultivation, he couldn't react in time.

Carrying the momentum of the Evil-Slaying Blade Technique's first form, "Slay the Prime Evil," the Gold-Slaughtering Precious Saber swept across his chest.

The Purple-Gold Wheel shattered the very moment it lit up.

The spinning golden light cracked inch by inch like glass. His qi and blood splattered in all directions, only to be burned into nothingness by the lightning and sheer sharpness escaping the blade.

The saber light cleaved through the fragments of the golden wheel and plunged straight into Yang Zhuri's chest.

Rip.

It was an incredibly soft, thin sound, like a sharp blade slicing through silk.

All the golden light radiating from Yang Zhuri's body was instantly snuffed out.

The Golden Body astral ward, the Purple-Gold Wheel, and even the molten-gold qi and blood surging through his veins were as fragile as paper before this strike. They couldn't hold on for even a single breath.

He crashed to the ground, blood gushing!

Chen Lingxi's momentum did not stop there.

With a casual flick of the blade, another surge of spiritual energy shot out from the steel.

That thread of spiritual qi, as fine as spider silk, swept out without a sound.

By the courtyard gate, the hunched Old Servant seemed completely unaware of what had just happened.

His mouth was open, likely intending to shout something.

But no words ever came out.

As the spiritual qi swept past, a white-haired head tumbled from its shoulders. It rolled rapidly across the ground, finally coming to a halt at the base of the courtyard wall.

The headless corpse remained standing for a moment, swaying unsteadily before pitching forward and smashing onto the bluestone paving.

Only then did Chen Lingxi retract his saber. His gaze returned to Yang Zhuri.

Yang Zhuri was still alive.

The slash had cleaved his chest open, leaving a gaping wound that stretched from his collarbone straight down to his abdomen. An untold number of bones had been severed, and his internal organs were vaguely visible through the laceration, thoroughly mangled by the lightning and cyan light that had invaded his body.

Yet the terrifying vitality of the Martial Dao Golden Body prevented him from dying immediately.

He lay sprawled on the ground, half of his face pressed against the freezing bluestone slab. Not a shred of arrogance remained in his peach-blossom eyes; all that was left was pure, undisguised terror.

He looked like a hunter who had just been toying with his prey, only to suddenly realize that he was the one being hunted.

"Who... who are you?" he asked with a violent shudder.

Chen Lingxi looked down, his eyes settling on Yang Zhuri's face.

He stared at that exceptionally handsome face, which was now smeared with blood and sweat. Those peach-blossom eyes brimmed with horror and disbelief, his lips trembling, his white teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Chen Lingxi looked at him the way one would look at weeds on the roadside, or an ant beneath one's boot.

There was no pleasure, no anger, not even killing intent in his gaze.

There was only an utterly tranquil indifference.

Yang Zhuri suddenly thought of the Crown Prince...

Gasping for breath, he managed, "You're an Immortal—"

He wanted to say more.

But Chen Lingxi did not give him the chance to finish.

The second form of the Evil-Slaying Blade Technique, "Bone-Stripping," flashed past.

As the saber light swept horizontally, Yang Zhuri's head flew into the air. It tumbled from his neck, rolled twice across the ground, and came to a stop facing upward.

Those peach-blossom eyes stared wide open, unmoving!