Chương 1109: Chapter 109: Bloodbath

Reyn stood atop the smoldering ruins of the Jinshan Sect's main hall. Beneath his boots lay the charred, unrecognizable remains of two cultivators and a third, headless corpse that still leaked a sluggish trail of crimson onto the cracked tiles. He lifted his gaze, his cold eyes sweeping across the Jinshan Sect disciples who were scattering in every direction.

These Qi Condensation cultivators were like a flock of panicked sheep, shrieking and wailing as they trampled one another in a desperate surge toward the mountain gate. One man tripped, his cry for mercy cut short as a dozen boots crushed his ribs into the stone, his final gasp swallowed by the thunderous cacophony of frantic footsteps.

"Leave none alive." The command was whispered, barely a breath against the wind, yet it rang with terrifying clarity in the ears of every Xuanxiao Sect disciple present. Senior Brother Ma and Elder Sun exchanged a brief, chilling look. They saw the abyss in each other's eyes, but neither hesitated. Between the Sect Master's secret orders and Reyn's own monstrous methods, disobedience was a swifter path to the grave than any enemy blade.

"Kill!" Streaks of light erupted into the sky. Each ray of spiritual energy descended like a butcher's cleaver, plunging into the helpless mass of fleeing disciples. Reyn did not move. He remained at the heart of the devastation, his green robes fluttering in the wind like the wings of a predatory god. He watched the slaughter with a detached fascination, his gaze following the arcs of light as they reaped lives. The slight curve of his lips never wavered. It wasn't a smile.

It was the absolute, frigid indifference of a being who viewed the world as nothing more than dust and straw. A Jinshan Sect disciple, stumbling and drenched in tears, suddenly veered toward him. He clutched a silk bundle to his chest, and in his haste, a heavy gold ingot tumbled out, clattering against the debris.

"Senior, have mercy! I'm just an outer disciple! I know nothing! I've done nothing!" Reyn tilted his head slightly. The disciple, misinterpreting the silence as a chance for survival, collapsed to his knees. He slammed his forehead against the jagged stone, kowtowing with such force that skin tore.

"I'll leave the Jinshan Sect! I'll be your slave, your dog! I'll—" Reyn raised a hand and flicked a finger. The disciple didn't even have time to scream. The light in his eyes vanished instantly as his life force was snuffed out, leaving behind nothing but a cold, hollow shell of meat.

"Noisy." Reyn withdrew his hand and wiped his fingertip against his sleeve, his expression one of mild annoyance, as if he were cleaning off a speck of filth. The massacre raged for half an hour. When the final scream of the last Jinshan Sect disciple dissolved into the wind, a suffocating silence descended upon the mountain. Senior Brother Ma and Elder Sun led the survivors back to the ruins. Every man was painted in blood—some of it belonged to the fallen, some to themselves.

Of the twelve Qi Condensation disciples who had followed Reyn, three lay dead, dragged into the dirt by the desperate, final struggles of their prey. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Reyn's eyes drifted over the three corpses. His expression remained a mask of stone.

"Bury them." He turned and walked toward the back of the mountain, where the sect's treasury lay hidden—the same place where Jin Sansheng had once attempted his final seclusion. With a single, casual palm strike, Reyn shattered the treasury's reinforced doors. The spoils inside were modest for a sect of this stature: three thousand mid-grade spirit stones, several hundred bottles of medicinal pills, and a few dozen spiritual tools. He gave the hoard a cursory glance before turning his back on the wealth.

Behind him, Ma and Sun were already barking orders, their faces flushed with the greedy joy of the harvest as disciples began hauling away the crates. Reyn stood at the edge of the mountain gate, staring at the distant, rolling peaks. The setting sun bled across the horizon, casting a long, jagged shadow behind him that looked like a broken blade plunged into the earth.

"Elder Lei," Senior Brother Ma approached, clutching a bulging storage bag with a sycophantic grin.

"The haul is significant. These stones and pills... how shall we distribute them?" Reyn didn't bother to look back.

"Divide it among yourselves." Ma froze, his smile faltering.

"This... Elder Lei, you truly want none of it?"

"I have no need for it. The men worked hard. Let them have their fill." Ma's grin returned, wider and more fervent than before. Following Elder Lei meant there was always meat on the bone. Reyn stepped over the threshold and began his descent. His robes brushed against the stone, stirring a faint breeze that carried the heavy scent of copper and ozone—a lingering, hellish sigh from the abyss. It was deep into the night when he returned to Thunder Abyss City. The Lei Clan's Great Hall was ablaze with lanterns.

Lei Wanjun stood at the head of the clan, waiting outside the gates like a pack of dogs awaiting their master. The moment Reyn's silhouette descended from the clouds, Lei Wanjun threw himself to the ground. His forehead struck the cobblestones with a sickening thud, drawing blood instantly.

"Reyn... no, Immortal Master Lei! Your divine might is peerless! To wipe out the Jinshan Sect in a single stroke... you have avenged our clan! The Lei Clan is eternally grateful!" Behind him, the clansmen knelt in unison, falling like a field of wheat flattened by a gale. The sound of rhythmic kowtowing echoed through the night, a hollow, groveling ritual of fear. Reyn stood at the base of the stairs, looking down at the sea of bowed heads.

His gaze drifted over Lei Wanjun's thinning white hair, over Lei Wanhe's mangled arm, over Caiyun's deathly pale face, and finally settled on Lei Tianqi at the very back. Lei Tianqi flinched as if bitten by a viper. He pressed his face harder into the stone, his entire body trembling like a leaf in a storm. Reyn's lips curled upward. It was a faint, ghostly movement, but it made the hair on Lei Wanjun's neck stand on end.

The old man's kowtowing hitched for a fraction of a second before he resumed with even more desperate force.

"Immortal Master," Wanjun stammered, his voice cracking.

"What Cheng Ergui said... those lies..."

"I know," Reyn interrupted. His voice was like sandpaper grinding against rusted iron.

"My parents' deaths... every tragedy that befell me... you were the architect in the shadows. I had considered letting you live, so long as you played the part of a loyal patriarch. But..." Lei Wanjun's head stopped moving. He remained frozen, his forehead pinned to the cold stone. Blood seeped into his eyes, staining his vision a visceral, terrifying red. He didn't dare look up. He didn't dare breathe.

"Immortal Master..." his voice was a strangled rasp, thick with the metallic taste of his own blood.

"I was forced... the Jinshan Sect gave me no choice..."

"It no longer matters." Reyn stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stairs as he walked past the broken man. His hem brushed against Wanjun's nose, bringing with it that same scent of slaughter and burnt ash—a final, silent promise from the grave. Lei Wanjun collapsed into a heap of trembling flesh, his spirit shattered, a man already dead in every way but physically.