Chapter Thirty-Two: The Slaughter Begins

After falling unconscious, Lei Yan remained trapped in a haze, his mind filled with surreal visions. He saw the man in white, bloodied from head to toe, standing before him. The man's dagger, gripped tightly in his right hand, plunged toward Lei Yan’s chest. At that very moment, Cui Ba threw himself in front of Lei Yan, intercepting the deadly blow meant for him. Then, Lei Yan saw Cold Second and the others glaring at him with fury, as if they wished to devour him alive. Hundreds of bandits stared at him, their eyes full of resentment, blaming him for letting Cui Ba take that fatal strike in his stead.

Suddenly, Qing Ling's face appeared before Lei Yan, her lips moving as if she were speaking to him endlessly, but he could not hear a single word. As he tried to ask what she was saying, a flash of cold light sliced through the air—a massive axe swung from behind, severing Qing Ling’s head, sending it soaring. Blood splattered across Lei Yan’s face. He turned in rage toward the direction from which the axe had come, only to meet the cruel, mocking smiles of Lu Kai and his companions.

Gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, Lei Yan abruptly awakened from his nightmare. The sticky sweat clung to him like glue, making him uncomfortable, yet all his internal injuries had healed. Even his meridians seemed to have expanded and strengthened, though his body now felt hollow, devoid of any internal energy.

Surveying his surroundings, Lei Yan realized he had returned to Dragon Overlord's domain, and the place felt familiar—it was Qing Ling’s residence. He slowly sat up, his gaze resting on Qing Ling nearby. Her arms lay on the wooden table, propping up her chin, as she dozed. Her delicate features were tinged with fatigue, and her hair was somewhat disheveled.

Lei Yan tried to get out of bed; though his body was weak, he managed to move without much trouble. After rising, he draped a cloak over Qing Ling. The weather had turned chilly, and if she continued sleeping like that, she would surely catch cold. Perhaps sensing his movement, Qing Ling tugged at the cloak, mumbled incoherently, and continued sleeping.

A cultivator can go several nights without sleep with little consequence, yet Qing Ling was clearly exhausted, her spirit depleted. Lei Yan felt a warmth stir within him. He had thought, after losing his mother, that he would be plunged into loneliness again. But since arriving at Dragon Overlord, that emptiness had been filled by two people: Qing Ling, who once plotted his demise but now treated him with gentle care, and Dragon Overlord’s leader, Cui Ba, who gave him a sense of paternal affection he thought lost forever.

“I wonder how my foster father is doing now?” Lei Yan mused, and turned to walk out of the cave.

The territory of Dragon Overlord was peculiar. The surrounding cliffs were covered with palm-sized leaves that glowed faintly at night, thousands clustered together like stars, illuminating the land.

“Young Master!” The two bandits guarding the cave greeted Lei Yan respectfully as he emerged. He waved and walked out. Qing Ling’s dwelling was near the northeast corner; he planned to bathe and change clothes there before visiting Cui Ba. But he had barely walked a few steps when Lu Kai approached from the opposite direction.

“Young Master, you’re finally awake!” Lu Kai said cheerfully. During Lei Yan’s coma, Lu Kai had checked on him several times each day—not from his own initiative, but at Cui Ba’s behest.

“Was I unconscious for a long time?” Lei Yan asked, puzzled.

“A week, more or less. Cui Ba has been worrying about your injuries this whole week. He sent me to check on you again,” Lu Kai said, a little disgruntled.

“I was unconscious for so long? No wonder Qing Ling is so exhausted,” Lei Yan thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Lu Kai saw Lei Yan lost in thought and slapped his shoulder. “Come with me to see Cui Ba. He’ll be thrilled you’ve woken up!”

Lei Yan, already weak, nearly stumbled from the slap. Regaining his balance, he complained, “Lu Kai, I am still a patient. Can’t you be gentler?”

Lu Kai scratched his bald head and laughed awkwardly. “Hehe, next time I’ll remember.”

They walked on, chatting. Lei Yan learned that Cui Ba’s injuries had healed, and, from Lu Kai, that the sacks of rice had hidden gold bars—enough to sustain Dragon Overlord’s people for years, which astonished him.

Soon, they arrived at Cui Ba’s residence.

“Second, I’ll leave this task to you. Make sure the information is accurate!” Cui Ba’s voice echoed from within.

“Yes!” Cold Second replied.

Lei Yan and Lu Kai had not yet entered the cave when they heard the exchange.

“Cui Ba, Young Master is awake!” Lu Kai shouted as he stepped inside.

“Foster father!” Lei Yan greeted as he approached Cui Ba.

Cui Ba stood up, visibly moved, and circled Lei Yan, scrutinizing him as if to see through him. “Lei, how are your injuries? Are you feeling any discomfort?”

Hearing Cui Ba’s concern, Lei Yan felt a pang of guilt. He knelt on one knee. “Foster father, it’s all my fault. I caused you to be hurt!”

Cui Ba helped him up with a laugh. “Silly child, as long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters! Enough, let’s not dwell on unhappy things.”

Listening to their exchange, Lu Kai was full of envy. Perhaps only at such moments did Cui Ba reveal his true feelings.

“Lei, you should go back and rest. That’s most important now,” Cui Ba said, patting Lei Yan’s shoulder.

“Yes!” Lei Yan replied respectfully and left Cui Ba’s residence. On his way out, he pondered how to strengthen himself. Only by growing stronger could he protect his loved ones.

Time flew by; a month passed in a blink, and the cold deepened. Heavy snow blanketed the Poison Miasma Forest in white. Dragon Overlord’s domain appeared isolated from the world. In the northeast clearing, Lei Yan, dressed in thin cloth, moved swiftly, leaving blurred shadows in the air.

“No, this won’t do!” Lei Yan stopped in disappointment. Ever since Cui Ba had shielded him from the blade, Lei Yan realized speed was his weakness. For a month, he had focused on improving his speed but found little progress. He was still far slower than the white-robed man he had fought before.

“Brother Lei, take a break!” Qing Ling approached with hot tea.

“Just a moment,” Lei Yan replied absently, still pondering speed.

Qing Ling ignored his protest, grabbed his arm, and dragged him aside. Lei Yan shook his head helplessly. Since his injury, Qing Ling’s demeanor had changed drastically. She now called him Brother Lei instead of simply “hey” or “Lei Yan,” and attended to his daily needs—meals, water, everything—insisting he finish before she’d leave. Once, when she interrupted his crucial training and he snapped at her, she merely watched him calmly, unperturbed, until he finally yielded and ate everything she had prepared.

“Brother Lei, the Winter Festival is coming. Will you take me out for a walk?” Qing Ling asked. She had followed Lei Yan for nearly a year, never leaving Dragon Overlord’s domain, and was feeling stifled.

“Winter Festival?” Lei Yan was taken aback. It was akin to the New Year in his previous life, a day for celebration. Seeing Qing Ling’s hopeful gaze, and remembering how long she had been cooped up, his heart softened. “Alright. I’ll take you this month.”

Joy shone on Qing Ling’s face. “Then I’ll go prepare your meal!” she said, skipping away.

Watching her leave, Lei Yan sighed. “You may not find happiness with me,” he murmured, then returned to the clearing, still wrestling with the problem of speed.

Internal energy allowed one to move lightly as a swallow, but wind was the greatest obstacle. Eliminating wind resistance was impossible; reducing it, Lei Yan could manage. Yet he had pushed that technique to its limit. He needed a new breakthrough, or else his speed would remain on par with Cold Second—no match for true experts.

“It seems I must try weight training,” Lei Yan decided. He had always resisted the idea; while it could boost speed quickly, it didn’t truly enhance it. Once the weights were removed, the body adapted to the lack of resistance and speed would drop again.

Another half-month passed; the Winter Festival was only days away. Lu Kai, carrying a wine gourd, staggered toward the northeast corner.

As he arrived, he saw Yin You, almost a blur, attacking Lei Yan. Lei Yan stood firm, not dodging, letting Yin You strike him. Lu Kai scoffed at the feeble attacks, sat nearby, took a sip from his gourd, and shouted, “Yin You, are you tickling the Young Master? Put some effort into it!”

Yin You, feeling the recoil from his punches, grew frustrated. Lu Kai’s taunt made it worse. Lei Yan’s instinctive internal defense rendered Yin You’s efforts futile. Yin You’s lips curled in a sly smile, his voice drifting eerily to Lu Kai’s ears. “Master Lu, you’re a true expert—why not show me how it’s done?”

Lu Kai’s eyes widened. He tied the gourd to his belt and sprang up. “Step aside, kid! Watch how your Master Lu does it!” He launched a punch at Lei Yan.

Lei Yan, eyes closed, didn’t react to the change of opponent, remaining calm. With a loud boom, dust erupted from the ground. The force pushed Lei Yan back several steps, but his instinctive internal energy bounced half the force back at Lu Kai, causing him to lose his balance and tumble.

Lei Yan’s internal energy only reflected half of Lu Kai’s strength, so Lu Kai looked battered but suffered no harm.

“Master Lu, surely that was just a slip!” Yin You laughed. He understood Lei Yan’s training well. Lei Yan had Yin You attack him repeatedly to adapt his body to custom-made iron tools. At first, Lei Yan had to remain alert to avoid injury. Eventually, he developed an instinctive reaction, easily rebounding external force without conscious control.

“Damn it, am I mad to offer myself up for a beating?” Lu Kai cursed inwardly, climbing up and dusting himself off. “Young Master, Cui Ba wants to know if you’ll join him this month.”

“So this instinctive defense has its limits!” Lu Kai’s blow roused Lei Yan from his meditative state—his internal energy countered the force.

“Young Master, Cui Ba is waiting for your answer!” Seeing Lei Yan dazed, Lu Kai moved closer.

“Let’s go!” Lei Yan remembered his promise to Qing Ling and nodded.

“Young Master…” Yin You hesitated, as if wanting to say something.

“You stay here,” Lei Yan anticipated his thoughts.

“Yes!” Yin You replied respectfully. Though he longed to go, his training had ingrained obedience to Lei Yan’s orders, leaving no room for complaint.

By dusk, hundreds of Dragon Overlord’s bandits set out. Careful inquiries had yielded precise information, and their ambush was meticulous, hiding them like phantoms.

Sun Fu, in his early forties, was the steward of the Sun family in Eight Directions Town, based in Ji Prefecture. Long used to life there, he had been tasked by the family head to deliver a batch of critical goods from Ji Prefecture to Eight Directions Town. Knowing the importance, he brought nearly four hundred guards and several carts.

Severed limbs and pools of blood littered the ground, terrifying Sun Fu as he cowered under a cart. “How could this happen?” he wondered, unable to fathom how the bandits of Eight Directions Road dared to attack the Sun family’s cargo.

Not far from the slaughter, Cui Ba stood by a tree, flanked by Lei Yan in a blood-red robe and Cold Second shrouded in black.

“Hundreds of guards, dozens of carts—the Sun family values this shipment greatly. Will such a massacre bring trouble?” Cold Second worried. If the Sun family’s enforcers became involved, Dragon Overlord would be doomed.

“The situation has exceeded our expectations, but now that it’s begun, we must take this risk,” Cui Ba said coldly. Since receiving that letter, he had fixated on the Sun family’s annual shipment, but had not expected such strong protection.

Cold Second nodded, saying no more. Cui Ba was right; the time for hesitation was over.

Watching the carnage, Cui Ba asked Lei Yan, “Lei, how is your training lately?”

“Still unable to break through,” Lei Yan replied with a bitter smile. His speed remained stagnant.

“Take it slowly. Cultivation isn’t achieved overnight,” Cui Ba consoled him.

Lei Yan nodded. He knew progress sometimes required sudden inspiration, and diligence and talent were equally essential.

“Let’s go!” Cui Ba’s voice rose sharply. He strode toward the massacre, and Lei Yan, pulling the hood of his robe, wrapped himself in crimson and followed.