"Fuck your mother, wait until I ravage your sister in front of you, let's see if you can keep pretending!"
The three brothers were skilled at teamwork, clearly practiced.
The eldest charged forward, while the second and third attacked from the flanks, moving in perfect synchronicity, creating an imposing and cohesive aura.
The entire room began to shake.
Their aura was like a landslide, their bodies like fierce tigers, their gazes like dragon serpents.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Three slaps exploded like thunder.
Nothing could be seen, only that the three brothers flew backward like sandbags, slamming into the wall and shaking the house to its core.
But Fan Wubing stood there, unmoved.
The three brothers' faces instantly swelled like pig heads, with all the blood rushing to their faces, forming a bloated bloody handprint.
They were stunned for a while before coming to their senses, screaming, "Ah! Ah! Ah! What's going on! Who slapped us, who slapped us!"
The withered old doctor beside them widened his eyes in astonishnt, "This...what's happening?"
Fan Wubing stepped forward and stomped on the eldest brother's head. The latter struggled and scread, yet felt as if a mountain was pressing down on his head.
"Damn it, damn you, you little brat! Fuck your mother! Fuck your mother!"
Fan Wubing applied pressure with his foot, crushing the eldest's head, blood mingling with yellowish matter, splattering everywhere.
Such a terrifying scene left the remaining two brothers petrified, along with the withered old doctor.
Fan Wubing approached the second brother.
The second brother, trembling in fear, imdiately burst into tears, "Spare , young hero, spare , I was forced too."
Paying him no mind, Fan Wubing crushed the second brother's head with another stomp.
Only the third brother remained.
This scene hit him hard. He yelled madly, "You! You're a Cultivator as well, you're a Cultivator too!"
"What of it? Did I ever say I wasn't?"
The third brother scread in a frenzy, "Daoist Sun, Daoist Sun! Didn't you say he had no cultivation? Didn't you say he had no cultivation? Daoist Sun, say sothing, say sothing!"
The withered old doctor, referred to as Daoist Sun, was already frozen in fear. His deeply sunken eyes were like black holes, "Yes...yes, you clearly...clearly shouldn't have any cultivation...and how...at such a young age."
He couldn't even form a complete sentence.
Fan Wubing kicked a waterlon, killing the third brother on the spot. He looked at Daoist Sun like a demon, "You are the truly wicked one. Your soul should enter Abi Hell."
Daoist Sun backed away repeatedly, shouting in panic, "It's none of my business, don't co near !"
Fan Wubing took a step forward.
Daoist Sun gritted his teeth and shouted, "All talismans obey ! According to my will! Seven Luminaries True Monarch, act imdiately!"
The talismans covering the room suddenly lifted from the walls, swirling around him, conjuring an aura akin to an Immortal. His eyes shone with divine light, and he roared like a Celestial God, "I am the Seven Luminaries True Monarch, lowly ones, retreat instantly!"
Fan Wubing smiled playfully as the rain began to fall, "If you're the Seven Luminaries True Monarch, then what am I?"
Golden radiance rose in his eyes, and thunder roared in the clear night.
The talismans surrounding Daoist Sun crackled with electricity, suddenly bursting into ashes.
In that instant, Daoist Sun seed to witness an imnse horror, collapsing to the ground in fright, his eyes filled with ultimate terror, completely losing his mind, muttering repeatedly, "How...how could this be, how could this be..."
Thud!
His very blood turned into a sword, piercing out from within, covering his entire body, and in a mont, he was dead as a doornail.
The blood transforming into swords...this is a manifestation of the abilities from the "Demonic Body Weaponization" and "Blood Calamity Death Immortal Skill."
Fan Wubing could manipulate his flesh into weapons, and control others as well.
The rain stopped, and tranquility returned.
The room was left in a ss, a place of horror.
Fan Wubing turned his head and smiled at the elderly person, "Old man, everything's fine now."
The old man stared blankly at Fan Wubing, then suddenly let out a wail, kneeling to the ground, "I bow to the Immortal."
"No need." Fan Wubing raised his hand, and with a gust of energy, the old man was lifted to his feet.
He started to walk out, "Old man, I still have so questions for you, let's not stay here."
"Alright, alright!" The old man, both shocked and delighted, quickly followed outside.
"Manman, tidy up."
Fu Manman, who had been watching the spectacle from the sidelines, laughed, "Certainly!"
She summoned a chilling breeze, freezing the entire room before shattering the ice. Thus, the place turned to dust, vanishing in the wind without a trace left behind.
She was used to this sort of thing.
Every ti Fan Wubing engaged in combat, the scene was never pleasant, with blood, flesh, organs, brain matter...often scattered everywhere. Initially, she resisted cleaning up such aftermaths, but over ti, she got used to it.
She once asked Fan Wubing why he always left his enemies in such a state?
Fan Wubing's answer was simple—because it felt good. He didn't have any grand ideals or claims to moral superiority, and he never left his enemies with a whole body. As he saw it, if others wanted to kill you, why would you leave them a whole corpse? What reincarnated saint.
This answer gave the Little Princess a harsh lesson.
In the deep alleys on the way ho, Fan Wubing asked, "Is the old man alright?"
"Very well, very well! Bathing in the Immortal's aura, I feel several years younger."
"You...have a granddaughter, right?"
"Yes."
Fan Wubing asked with a smile, "Can you take to see her?"
The old man looked at Fan Wubing's profound eyes and shivered, realizing that before this Immortal, he couldn't hide anything.
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