Volume Three: The Tenfold Dao’s Intent Chapter 74: Total Annihilation (Part 1)

He gripped the Meteorfall Blade, veins bulging as his arm trembled slightly before regaining its steady composure. In the past, he always wielded the blade with both hands—partly for effect—but this time, he wanted to try the flourish of single-handed swordplay. The overwhelming force nearly brought him to his knees. Never again, he swore to himself, would he put on airs—one misstep and he’d turn from a braggart to a fool. If he’d embarrassed himself like that, it would’ve been a disgrace of epic proportions.

With a thought, the Berserker’s Overlord Physique ignited instantly, his power surging. His eyes, once black and white, now flickered with a crimson glow. The eleven martial artists at the peak of the Path-Entering Realm regarded him with grave expressions. At this moment, Qin Yang seemed incredibly dangerous in their eyes—more terrifying even than an ordinary Profound Realm master—their faces growing gloomier by the second.

As he unleashed the Gale Blade Technique, the once-clear sky was instantly shrouded in dark clouds. A biting wind swept across their cheeks, sharp as steel knives. The ground trembled, threatening to split apart. The Dragon Group members had already retreated to the southern outskirts of South Mountain. This was a battle among martial artists; they had no reason to interfere. All they could do was wait for the conflict to end and then clean up the aftermath.

Enchantress stood behind Lily, concern furrowing her brows. Qin Yang truly never brought her peace of mind—just back in Bin City, he’d already made waves in the business world by targeting the Xinghai Investment Group, and now in the ancient martial world, he was being hunted by numerous warriors. He seemed like nothing short of a walking disaster. Always stirring up trouble, and in the end, it would fall to others to clean up his mess. The thought made her cheeks flush; she quickly shook her head, scolding herself for her wandering mind.

Lily, meanwhile, paid no attention to her disciple’s embarrassment. Her gaze was fixed on the ever-shifting battlefield, and her eyes sparkled as she watched Qin Yang. The dense winds swirling around him grew ever more intense—he was on the verge of comprehending the Intent of Wind. If he truly grasped it, his talent would be monstrous. According to the information she’d memorized, Qin Yang’s rise began only around July or August—it hadn’t been long at all. He’d already comprehended the Intents of Slaughter, Thunder, and Water. If he also mastered Wind, his progress would surpass what ordinary martial artists could achieve in a lifetime.

Others had powerful backgrounds or endless resources. But Qin Yang? He was just a penniless youth, advancing step by step through sheer insight and willpower. Compared to others, his journey was many times more arduous. If he managed to survive, he would surely become a legendary figure—perhaps even breach the Origin Condensation Realm, a level no one in the ancient martial world had yet crossed. After all, he was young and exceptionally gifted.

The battle raged on. Any martial artist who tried to take advantage of the chaos met their end on the spot, their bodies falling lifeless.

The eleven before him were indeed formidable, moving with uncanny coordination. Surrounded and beset on all sides, he found it difficult to find an opening. His internal energy drained rapidly. He exhaled, a cold smile on his lips. “Impressive. No wonder you’re called Kings of the Path.”

“But that’s all it is. Impressive.”

“Berserker’s Overlord Physique—Second Level.”

All eyes were on Qin Yang, faces contorting in shock. After all this, he’d still been holding back his strength.

“Unbelievable—he’s grown even stronger. Terrifying.”

“I’m starting to suspect Beihai’s Qin Yang isn’t even human.”

“I second that!”

“I agree!”

“Do you think he’s using some kind of cheat?”

“…”

Meanwhile, the red-haired elder seized an opening to launch a sneak attack. Qin Yang’s patience finally wore thin. This was supposed to be a duel of experts; yet this so-called King would stoop to ambushes. Did the old man feel no shame? Qin Yang almost felt embarrassed for him. If a sneak attack succeeded on his own turf, how could he ever show his face in Bin City again?

“Get lost!” His voice thundered, and his leg shot out like a wind wolf or a leaping leopard. The kick was blindingly fast, backed by fearsome strength—his entire body coordinated to unleash a force of a thousand pounds.

The red-haired elder took the blow full on; his chest caved inward, and the light in his once-bright eyes dimmed dramatically. He was gravely wounded.

The onlooking martial artists were stunned into silence. Counting both Chen He and the Red Fox King, two more opponents had been neutralized. Prolonging the fight would be to their disadvantage, especially since Qin Yang could sense hidden observers lurking in the shadows, waiting to fish in troubled waters. His priority now was to eliminate these old foes; those hiding in the dark were of little concern—just petty clowns, nothing more.

“If we hold back now, South Mountain will become our burial ground,” one growled.

The survivors—ten left, plus the severely injured Red Fox—glared coldly at Qin Yang. The Red Fox King, in particular, hated him with a vengeance. He’d just checked himself; nine ribs shattered, one broken into three pieces. Even with all his strength, it would take a toll on his core energy to recover. Advancing his power would be out of the question—just maintaining his current strength would be a struggle.

This relentless slaughter at the outskirts of Bin City was a feast for the senses and a display of martial prowess. The area had long since been sealed off. Ordinary citizens, unaware of the truth, thought they were filming a movie—after all, so many luxury cars had sped past, and they’d witnessed it with their own eyes. Online, speculation ran wild; some daring souls even considered sneaking up the mountain after dark to see if there was a celebrity shoot underway. But as soon as they ventured near, the police hauled them away.

Whatever this place had been before, it was now a top-level military zone. Trespassing was considered a threat to national security—a grave offense. Two internet users, caught off guard by the severity, were terrified into fleeing, scrambling away and vowing never to spread rumors online again. None of them wanted to bear the responsibility of leaking state secrets.

Night gradually fell. The gentle breeze swelled, the sky grew heavier. Lily looked up, lost in thought—she could sense the coming snowstorm.

Half an hour later, snowflakes began to drift down from the sky.

At the Shenghao Hotel, Ye Meier had booked a presidential suite. Dressed in black stockings, her bare feet crossed, she cradled a glass of red wine and tried dialing Qin Yang’s number. It was constantly busy. She shook her head, assuming he must be at Wu Yaoyao’s house and unable to answer. The thought left a sour taste in her heart.

Ever since Qin Yang left Jingyuan Residence, Wu Yaoyao, upset, had followed suit. She wanted to find him but saw only a long convoy of cars—no sign of Qin Yang anywhere. Calls to his phone went unanswered. Left with no alternative, she sought Su Ying, hoping her best friend could put in a good word. Yet Qin Yang’s phone was always unreachable or simply not picked up.

Could he have been so upset by her family that he’d done something drastic? She shook her head. They knew Qin Yang wasn’t one to be easily defeated—her worry only deepened. If it wasn’t that, then why wasn’t he answering?

Little did they know, Qin Yang was fighting for his life, desperately seizing any chance to survive.