Ruthless Eradication

“...”

These words clearly trampled the Wen family underfoot, carrying an overt threat.

Wen Meijue tightened her grip on her bone staff, her tone hardening. “The people from Nine Saints Hall will arrive tomorrow with a poison cultivator to examine them. If they insist that the dark poison on the Ming family members was the Wen family's doing, neither Nine Saints Hall nor the Ming family will let this rest!”

She took half a step forward, a cold light flashing in her cloudy eyes. “Although my Wen family has pledged allegiance to Taiqing Pavilion, you used Wen Tang to commit atrocities outside without giving us any word of it. In the end, you want the Wen family to take the blame for you. Isn't that a bit inappropriate?”

Huaisang narrowed his eyes. The smile remained on his lips, but a dangerous aura swept across his face. “Family Head Wen, this wasn't your attitude when you were begging me before.”

He couldn't help but shake his head and sigh. “Indeed, poison cultivators are like venomous snakes that can never be tamed.”

Since things had already reached this point, there was no turning back.

Wen Meijue continued, “I am also doing this for the sake of the Wen family. If Taiqing Pavilion does not help, and Nine Saints Hall takes action against us, demanding an explanation—”

She paused, raising her eyes to meet Huaisang's gaze. “Revealing Wen Tang's whereabouts would not benefit Taiqing Pavilion either, would it?”

“It would be better to give us peace of mind now. That way, taking the blame for Taiqing Pavilion would be much easier to swallow.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Huaisang's smile deepened. “Fine. Since Family Head Wen wants to know Wen Tang's whereabouts so badly, there is no harm in letting you see her!”

As soon as he finished speaking, a red string appeared out of thin air in his hand, and he yanked it hard.

Splintered wood flew in all directions. Before the dust could settle, a figure crashed through the window.

Several plum blossom nails followed closely behind. With a flash of cold light, Wen Meijue's pupils contracted. Before she could dodge, the sharp tips of the nails sank deep into her shoulders and abdomen.

The force was incredibly immense, lifting her entire body off the ground and pinning her ruthlessly to the doorframe.

The bone staff slipped from her grasp, clattering as it rolled twice across the floor.

She opened her mouth to scream, but only a muffled groan squeezed out of her throat. Fresh blood dripped down the shafts of the nails, spreading into dark red blossoms across her robes.

It hurt.

The pain was so intense she could barely breathe.

Just who on earth was this!

She forced herself to look up.

A young girl stood amidst the shattered wood and swirling dust. Her long hair fell loosely, and her face was so exquisite it seemed almost unreal.

Her eyebrows and eyes were as sharply defined as fine brushwork, her lips a vivid crimson, but her skin was so pale it lacked even a trace of color, resembling a porcelain statue dug up from the snow.

Those eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, yet they held absolutely no emotion. They were completely hollow, evoking an inexplicable, inhuman eeriness.

Wen Tang?

This was Wen Tang?

How was that possible?

Ever since she returned from Nine Saints Hall, that girl had been so lively and cheerful that she hardly seemed like a member of the Wen family.

How could she have become this half-human, half-ghost creature?

Wen Meijue's eyes trembled violently, and her lips shook. Blood seeped from the corners of her mouth as she stammered, “Tangtang... Tangtang, don't you recognize me? I... I am...”

Before she could finish her sentence, the girl flicked her wrist, sending another plum blossom nail flying.

The tip sank into Wen Meijue's throat, precisely piercing her vocal cords and blood vessels. Only a small portion of the nail's tail remained visible, glinting with a cold silver light in the dim room.

Wen Meijue's eyes bulged. Her mouth hung open, and a muffled, gurgling sound rattled in her throat like a broken bellows.

A few breaths later, her head slumped forward. Her eyes remained wide open, but her pupils had already dilated.

Seeing this, Huaisang stood up and clapped with a smile.

The slow, unhurried applause echoed with stark clarity in the silent room.

“Good. Very good.”

Looking at Wen Tang's back, his smile was gentle and grandfatherly. “You did not waste my efforts. As long as you obediently listen to me and find a way to pass the dark poison's secrets to me as soon as possible, Taiqing Pavilion will not treat you poorly—”

He, too, was unable to finish his sentence.

The girl spun around. With lightning speed, she reached out and gripped his neck in a death vice, lifting him clean off the ground.

Caught completely off guard, his feet dangled in the air. His face flushed a deep crimson, and his hands instinctively clawed at her fingers, but he couldn't muster an ounce of strength.

He tried to circulate his spiritual energy to cast a spell, only to find his dantian completely empty. There was not a single trace of spiritual energy in his meridians.

Poison!

Wen Tang had poisoned him!

But how was that possible?

How could she have broken free from his control?

How could she possess her own consciousness?!

Blood surged up from his throat, spilling out in large gulps and dripping onto her pale hand in a shocking, visceral display.

“Wen Tang—Wen Tang!”

His voice, choked with blood, squeezed out from the depths of his throat. It was hoarse and shrill, like a drowning man's. “How dare you disobey me! Let me go! I made you who you are! I was the one who made you this strong—”

Wen Tang tilted her head slightly. The way she looked at him was no different from how she had looked at Wen Meijue.

Indifferent and calm.

Devoid of any emotion a human should possess.

She simply tightened her grip.

A crisp crack echoed through the room, like a dry branch snapping.

Huaisang's voice cut off instantly, his mouth still hanging open.

Then Wen Tang let go, and his limp body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud.

Complete silence fell over the room.

Wen Tang looked down, casting a cold, disdainful glance at him before spitting out two words: “Useless waste.”

Then, she bent down, picked up the red string by his hand, pushed the door open, and walked out.

...

Having gone to sleep late last night, Song Yao also woke up late this morning.

By the time Song Yao was startled awake, the outside was in utter chaos.

“Family Head Wen is dead, and Elder Huaisang is dead too! Last night, only the people from Nine Saints Hall stayed at the Wen estate. If it wasn't you, who else could it be?!”

Who?

Who died?

Before she even opened her eyes, she rolled out of bed and scrambled up, stumbling outside with a bird's nest of messy hair to join the spectating crowd.

A clamor of voices filled the area outside the Wen family's front hall.

Quite a few people from Taiqing Pavilion had arrived, led by none other than the Pavilion Master of Taiqing Pavilion, Ye Chongguang.

The man wore a spotless white robe, his long hair secured in a jade crown. His face was cold and stern, and his brow carried an aura of natural, imposing authority.

Standing with his hands behind his back, he calmly swept his gaze over the crowd opposite him. He did not speak, yet his invisible pressure descended like an overwhelming wave.

Behind him stood Ye Chang'an and a group of cultivators, all dressed in identical white robes that fluttered in the breeze, standing in neat, orderly ranks.

In comparison, the opposing group of Nine Saints Hall's Third Elder, Xie Zhou, and Zhu Zhao appeared rather outnumbered and solitary.

The members of the Wen family stood caught in the middle of the two factions.

At the very front, Wen Yu's eyes were bloodshot, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes. Her voice was hoarse, sounding on the verge of a breakdown. “Yesterday, my younger brother committed suicide to atone for his sins. Last night, my mother exhausted all her strength to detoxify Senior Sister Zhu, just to make up for the mistakes my brother made.”

“We believe we have done everything humanly possible to make amends! Why did you still have to ruthlessly eradicate my mother?!”

Song Yao was slightly surprised.

Wen Meijue was actually dead?

Wasn't she perfectly fine and lively yesterday?

Besides, this was the Wen family estate, protected by layers of restrictions and heavily guarded. Who could possibly kill her, the family head?

Zhu Zhao's eyes sharpened, and she said coldly, “Do you think you can slander Nine Saints Hall with nothing but empty words? If so, couldn't I also say that these people were killed by Pavilion Master Ye?!”