Chương 9: Decisive Slaughter

Lei Wanjun stood frozen, stunned by the unexpected affability of the immortal before him. Compared to the arrogant cultivators he had served in the past, Senior Brother Liu seemed almost approachable. A wave of relief washed over him. Bowing low, he gestured with a trembling hand, leading the procession toward the Lei Clan's Great Hall with practiced servility. Once seated within the hall's cold grandeur, Liu's gaze swept across the gathered mortals.

His eyes held a translucent disdain, the look one reserves for insects in the dirt. Only when his eyes landed on Reyn did that icy mask soften with a flicker of genuine regard.

"Patriarch Lei," Liu began, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Two members of your clan have been selected by the Xuanxiao Sect. From this day forth, your mundane family shall be tethered to the immortal path. Consider this my early congratulations." He only bothered with this courtesy because of Reyn's status as a registered disciple of the Fifth Martial Uncle of the Hundred Herb Valley. Without Reyn, these mortals wouldn't be worth a single breath of his time. Lei Wanjun's eyes nearly bulged.

"Is... is the Immortal serious? Two of my kin?" Liu nodded curtly, offering no further explanation. The hall erupted in an uproar of gasps and frantic whispers. For three centuries, the Lei Clan had been a spiritual wasteland. To have two chosen in a single day was a miracle that would rewrite their history. Every branch leader turned their eyes toward their own children, praying the second slot belonged to their lineage. A single immortal disciple could elevate a branch to supreme power. Wanjun's chest heaved.

He turned to his son, Lei Tianqi, his voice cracking.

"Qi'er, tell me... are you one of them?" Under the weight of a hundred expectant gazes, Tianqi's vanity swelled. He straightened his spine, a look of arrogant pride washing over his face as he gave a sharp nod.

"Good! Magnificent!" Wanjun roared, his face flushing a manic crimson.

"As expected of my blood!" The other elders swarmed forward, their voices a chorus of envy. Yet, even as they congratulated Wanjun, their eyes remained fixed on him, silently demanding to know who the second lucky soul was. Wanjun cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Might I ask the Immortal... is the second disciple the daughter of my second brother, or perhaps the lad from the third branch?" The smug grin on Lei Tianqi's face instantly withered. He shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, unable to utter a syllable. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. A cold pit formed in Wanjun's stomach. An ill omen flickered in his mind.

His gaze snapped toward Reyn, who sat in the corner with a face as cold as mountain stone.

"Reyn!" Wanjun barked, his tone turning hard.

"Speak! Who is the second person chosen by the sect?" Reyn merely glanced at him, his eyes indifferent. He didn't move. He didn't speak. Senior Brother Liu's brow arched. Watching Reyn's calm against the backdrop of these squabbling mortals, he finally understood the internal dynamics. His contempt deepened into a mocking amusement as he settled back to watch the farce. Wanjun's face turned a mottled purple. He had never expected this brat to defy him so openly.

"Reyn! Do not think that participating in a trial gives you the right to forget your place!" Wanjun shrieked, his body trembling.

"And look at you, standing beside the Immortal as if you were his equal! Know your status! Get out of this hall and never darken our doors again!" Reyn looked up. A thin, mocking smile touched his lips. He was no longer the helpless orphan from three days ago. He was a cultivator of the Xuanxiao Sect, backed by a master at the peak of Foundation Establishment.

"I am here," Reyn said softly, his voice carrying a chilling weight.

"What do you think I came here to do?"

"Hmph! Is this how you speak to your elders?" Wanjun sneered.

"Guards! Seize him!" Two men stepped from the shadows.

"Kid, prepare for a slow death," one of the Hidden Guards rasped, grinning. Reyn's vision turned a bloody red. These were the men. He remembered his parents' broken bodies. A violent killing intent surged within him.

"Junior Brother Reyn, do you require my assistance?" Liu's voice was dark. To threaten a member of the Xuanxiao Sect was to spit in the face of the sect itself. Helping Reyn now was a calculated investment.

"No," Reyn whispered, shaking his head.

"This debt of blood... I will collect it myself."

"Junior Brother?" Wanjun's heart skipped a beat. The color drained from his face as the implications of Liu's words shattered his reality.

"You... you mean the other one is... him?" The two guards froze, their bravado replaced by terror.

"Run!" they screamed. They ignited their internal Qi, attempting to bolt toward the exit. They gambled that a fresh initiate wouldn't have the skills to stop them. Reyn let out a cold, hollow laugh. As they reached the ten-meter mark, he flicked his wrist. A yellow paper talisman appeared in his hand, humming with volatile energy—the Fireball Talisman gifted by Liu Shengsheng. He funneled his meager strand of spiritual energy into the paper. A wave of exhaustion hit him, but the talisman flared with blinding light.

Two fist-sized orbs of dark crimson flame erupted, screaming through the air like vengeful spirits.

"Argh!"

"No—!" The screams were cut short. The flames engulfed them instantly, turning flesh and bone into fine ash. Silence fell over the hall. The Lei Clan members stared at the empty space where their elite guards had stood, paralyzed by the lethality of immortal arts. Even Liu's pupils contracted. To possess such a talisman and the will to use it so ruthlessly... Reyn was someone to be feared. Reyn felt the hollow ache of depleted Qi, but his expression remained a mask of glacial calm.

To the onlookers, that calmness was more terrifying than any outburst of rage. Wanjun was drenched in cold sweat. He looked at Reyn and saw only a reaper.

"Qi'er! Save me!" Wanjun gasped, grabbing his son's arm.

"You're an immortal too! Stop him!" Tianqi's face was ashen. He had been ignored by his master, taught nothing. He was a cultivator in name only. He recoiled from his father, his knees shaking. Reyn stepped forward.

"Reyn... I am your uncle!" Wanjun stammered, backing away.

"Whatever happened in the past... we are blood! I am..."