“I never expected your Blood Clan to still be developing descendants here in Huaxia!”
Jiang Tian smiled, his tone dripping with disdain. “But unfortunately, I have absolutely no interest in becoming one of you—a stinking bat that skulks in the shadows all day and can’t even stand the light. I’d much rather bask in the warm sunshine.”
At this moment, he was using his spiritual sense to probe the cloaked man’s bloodline, and it felt very similar to the “Blood Fiend Clan” from the cultivation world.
However, compared to that race—which was as powerful as demons and gods—this so-called Blood Clan was pathetically weak. It was like comparing a tiny snake to a massive python.
Moreover, the vampires on Earth couldn’t tolerate sunlight, while the Blood Fiend Clan of the cultivation world could walk freely under the sun without fear.
And back then, Jiang Tian had personally slain the clan leader of the Blood Fiend Clan with a single wave of his hand. Now, facing a few even weaker vampires, he couldn’t care less.
“Jiang Taichu, you really are arrogant!”
Antonio trembled with rage, pursing his thin, crimson lips as he sneered:
“I know you’re powerful, but you’re not the same man you used to be. It’s your own fault for making so many enemies. You were ambushed by Southeast Asian experts at the peak of Mount Everest and left with severe injuries! Now, barely clinging to life, how much cultivation do you have left? Iron Body? Internal Energy? Hah—even if you’re at the early stage of the Transformation Realm, in my eyes, you’re nothing but an ant—a blood slave waiting to be claimed!”
“So Jiang Tian really is injured!”
Zhao Xueqing’s heart jolted. Her pretty face turned pale with worry.
Though her spiritual perception was formidable, she was still too new to the cultivation world and hadn’t noticed Jiang Tian’s weakened vitality or the severity of his wounds.
Realizing this, she immediately stretched out her arms to shield him, staring fiercely at Antonio through gritted teeth: “You—get out of here right now! Don’t you dare lay a finger on my husband! Or else—I’ll take action!”
“Haha, how amusing!”
The cloaked Antonio threw his head back and laughed wildly, then abruptly stopped, sneering with contempt: “I’ve heard that Grandmaster Jiang dotes on his wife, but I never imagined the mighty Jiang would now have to hide behind a woman!”
“Fine, let me turn you into my loyal, unwavering blood slave right now! A blood slave made from a Huaxia martial artist with actual cultivation—how powerful would that be? Just thinking about it gets me excited!”
“Antonio, it seems his cultivation has really weakened. How about letting our Tombstone Organization finish him off instead?”
Suddenly, seven or eight powerful figures appeared in the living room. The leader, a blond man, smirked dismissively.
Each of the eight wore black bodysuits over bulletproof vests, equipped with anti-dazzle night-vision goggles, pistols, rifles, tactical knives, and even grenades strapped to their gear.
“Grim Reaper, you can’t kill him. I need a Huaxia martial artist as my blood slave! I’ve already reported it to the client, and they agreed it’s acceptable!” Antonio protested.
“Dear Count, if you let our Tombstone Organization strike first, I can promise to give you a larger cut of the bounty!”
Grim Reaper smiled politely. “You take three hundred million, I take two hundred million—that sounds fair enough, doesn’t it? And if we can’t take him down, then your Crimson Totem can step in. There’s no rush!”
“With his cultivation weakened and all your guns, how could you possibly fail!”
Antonio snorted dismissively at first, then said with regret and frustration: “This would have been a blood descendant with Internal Energy—maybe even Transformation Realm strength! I truly hate to let this one slip away!”
“The intel about his injury came from us at Tombstone…”
Grim Reaper smiled. “Besides, Crimson Totem and Tombstone will be working together more in the future, don’t you think?”
The two dark-world powerhouses haggled back and forth, chattering endlessly, treating Jiang Tian and his wife as though they were already dead—corpses with no power to fight back.
“Are you two done yet?”
Watching this, Zhao Xueqing stomped her foot in fury and shouted: “Get out now, or I’ll kill all of you!”
“Patience, beautiful lady. We’ve reached an agreement. Let’s get started!”
With Grim Reaper’s command, one of the assassins raised his pistol, aimed at the center of Jiang Tian’s brow, and fired without hesitation.
Bang!
Jiang Tian’s body jolted as he took the bullet head-on.
Of course, he had the ability to dodge it—but he wanted to awaken Qing’er’s fighting spirit and killer instinct.
He knew all too well just how difficult a psychological barrier killing was for an ordinary person like Qing’er.
In his past life—even though his clan had been destroyed, his family murdered, and he harbored a burning hatred for the world—the first time he ever took a life, he still vomited for a long while, nearly heaving out his very bile.
“Honey! Are you okay?!”
Zhao Xueqing rushed to Jiang Tian’s side, kneeling before him, cupping his forehead in her hands, her voice trembling with worry.
“I’m fine… Qing’er, do you understand the truth about this world now?”
Jiang Tian looked down into her tear-filled eyes, offering a gentle smile and speaking with profound meaning.
Though the bullet hadn’t threatened his life, a deep gash had been carved into his brow, and blood trickled steadily down his face.
Staring into Jiang Tian’s warm, gentle eyes, Zhao Xueqing froze—her vision blurring as countless images flashed through her mind like a revolving lantern.
Age five: going hunting up the mountains with Dad. He shot a wild duck, holding it up triumphantly with a beaming smile—but the bloodied, lifeless bird scared her into tears.
Age seven: she held a flyswatter. Smack! The fly was reduced to a smear of goo.
Age ten: she and her classmates went fishing by a wild pond. Everyone posed together with their catches, smiling brightly for the camera.
Youthful figures, radiant and pure faces flashing peace signs at the lens—but those fish were still flopping and struggling…
Age fourteen: middle school. After class, on the rooftop, she was knocked to the ground by several female classmates. She begged for mercy on her knees, while the others laughed smugly and filmed it all on their phones.
Killing had always existed—she just hadn’t recognized it.
“So… it’s always been about killing to survive, hasn’t it?”
Hearing her own dazed, fragile voice, Zhao Xueqing’s vision gradually sharpened again.
She saw Jiang Tian smiling at her, softly and tenderly, and his warm voice reached her ears once more—
“Yes. Human history is largely a story of war and plunder. Even if you have no intention of harming others—even if you’re just building something good—what happens when enemies come knocking at your door?”
“Yeah… you’re right. I have to kill them.”
Zhao Xueqing let out a quiet, wistful sigh. She turned her head, and her eyes turned cold and sharp as she fixed her gaze on these villains.
“Haha! Still discussing civilization’s progress at a time like this—these two really don’t know when they’re done for!”
“Heh, that bullet didn’t kill him, but it wounded him. He’s probably only at Internal Energy level now.”
“Right—if all eight of us open fire at once, he’ll be Swiss cheese for sure…”
“Don’t kill the woman, though. She’s quite the catch—I’d love to have some fun with her. She’s a Huaxia martial grandmaster’s woman, after all! That alone would be enough for me to brag about on the dark web for the rest of my life!”
“Grandmaster Jiang, beautiful lady—why aren’t you begging for mercy? If you beg, I might just let this beauty go!”
Several of Tombstone’s assassins had their guns trained on Jiang Tian, taunting and jeering with cruel amusement.
Some killers did it for the money, often taking jobs out of necessity. But others—these ones, clearly—were born predators, relishing the act of killing.
For them, murder brought an indescribable satisfaction—the thrill of dominating life and death, standing high above their victims.
And the pinnacle of that pleasure? Watching their target tremble in fear, abandon their dignity, and grovel in tears, begging for mercy.
“You. All. Deserve. To. Die.”
Zhao Xueqing’s gaze turned icy cold, shifting into an eerie, shimmering gold. Her killing intent surged as she slowly rose to her feet, each word dropping like a hammer.
In that instant, the aura of the Innate Phoenix Maiden’s divine body skyrocketed—wave after wave of phoenix energy erupting from her, sweeping outward in all directions.
Crack! A faint sound—the glass on the table began to spiderweb with horrifying cracks.
“Huh? What’s she trying to do?”
Grim Reaper suddenly felt a sharp, piercing killing intent.
It was so intense that even he—a man drenched in blood—felt his heart skip a beat.
“Danger!”
He instinctively shouted a warning, but it was already too late. His eyes widened in shock as he watched—
Crack! Bang! With explosive sounds, Zhao Xueqing’s pristine, snow-white feet smashed through the solid wooden floor. Splinters and chunks of wood flew through the air as her figure shot forward like a hurricane, carrying an overwhelming, unstoppable momentum.
Her crystalline jade hand—four fingers held together like a sharp blade—drove forward with unstoppable ferocity.
Shunk!
Her jade hand pierced through the bulletproof vest as if it were paper, driving straight into one Tombstone assassin’s chest.
Shhhh!
Blood sprayed out like arrows, bursting forth with tremendous force.
“Cough… cough…”
The assassin’s face twisted in agony, his features contorted in pain. He clutched at Zhao Xueqing’s arm weakly, coughing up blood as his body crumpled forward.
Whoosh!
Zhao Xueqing drove a knee strike upwards like a cannonball, slamming into the man’s skull.
BAM!
His head exploded like an overripe melon—red and white matter splattering everywhere.
His limp body flew through the air like a discarded rag doll, landing a full seven or eight meters away in the yard outside.
Qing’er was drenched in blood. Her white silk nightgown now looked dotted with crimson plum blossoms.
Smack!
She slapped a still-steaming, still-beating heart to the ground, raised her foot, and—stomp!—crushed it into a pulp.
Standing proudly amid the pool of blood, her cold, sharp gaze swept across the terrified, stumbling crowd. Her voice was icy and ruthless, like a demon’s whisper from the deepest abyss—
“I said: no one hurts my husband!”
The entire room fell into dead silence.
“Is she—is she a martial artist too?!”
“That’s impossible—the intel never mentioned this!”
Everyone stared in disbelief at Zhao Xueqing, drenched in blood, their mouths agape, faces pale as paper, cold sweat soaking their clothes in an instant.
“Kill her!”
One assassin, his eyes wide with terror, pulled the trigger and held it down.
A hail of bullets rained down toward Qing’er.
“Die!”
Zhao Xueqing let out a sharp cry. She didn’t dodge or flinch—she vanished from her spot and reappeared right in front of the gunman.
Her delicate, fair, tender little hand rose into the air, fingers spread wide. The friction with the air produced a deafening sonic boom as she brought her palm crashing down.
BANG!
The assassin’s head shattered without any suspense—gray matter and bone fragments flying everywhere, the remnants of his skull caved into his neck cavity.
“She’s immune to bullets! She’s a Transformation Realm grandmaster too! That goddamn intel officer—how the hell did they miss this?!”
Grim Reaper was absolutely terrified, furious, cursing fate, the heavens, the very air—ready to lose his mind.
