SSS-Rank 10x Reward System: Accepting Disciples to Live Forever Chapter 173: Lin Huang Choice

[Ding! You have successfully completed the quest: The Price of Humiliation.]

[Although Lin Huang himself did not personally defeat the true perpetrator, what befell Ning Qi has fully satisfied his heart.]

[Evaluation: Perfect.]

[Issuing reward...]

[True Immortal Grade weapon Heavenfall Aegis has been successfully deposited.]

The cascade of blue windows hovered silently before Wang Chen’s eyes.

For a brief mont, he simply stared.

Then his eyebrows rose.

"True Immortal Grade..." he muttered under his breath.

That phrase alone carried an almost mythical weight. Even in the Upper Realm, True Immortal Grade weapons were not things one casually encountered. More often than not, such treasures lay sealed deep within the vaults of colossal powers like Sword Saint Heaven or the Divine Alchemist Sect, guarded by layers of formations and generations of old monsters.

And now?

He had obtained one for dealing with a handful of Grand Ascension Realm thugs.

The absurdity of it all nearly made him laugh out loud.

"If those immortals knew about this," Wang Chen thought with faint amusent, "they’d probably spit blood until their dao hearts cracked."

Still, reason prevailed over excitent.

This was not the place to inspect such a treasure. Murong Sichen was still present, and Wang Chen had no intention of drawing unnecessary attention. So instead of summoning the shield or probing its aura, he quietly sealed the reward away, deciding to examine it later—when he was alone and free of prying eyes.

Murong Sichen, anwhile, seed completely oblivious to Wang Chen’s internal turmoil.

His gaze swept through the surroundings again and again, sharp and probing, as if trying to peel the world apart layer by layer. His divine sense expanded, covering Ancient Sword City, then stretching outward toward the entire Soaring Cloud Continent.

And yet—

Nothing.

"Where did it go...?" he muttered, disbelief seeping into his voice.

An Earth Immortal Grade weapon had vanished without leaving behind the faintest trace. Not spatial ripples. Not karmic echoes. Nothing.

The impossibility of it gnawed at him.

Only then did Wang Chen finally turn his attention back to him.

His expression was calm, almost gentle, his tone unhurried as he spoke.

"Fellow Daoist, you’ve traveled a long way. You must be tired. Why don’t we put today’s matters aside and discuss them over a cup of tea?"

The words were polite. Courteous.

And utterly terrifying.

Murong Sichen stiffened.

For a fleeting instant, conflict flickered across his face. Then he let out a slow sigh, as if conceding to an invisible pressure.

"Senior," he said carefully, cupping his fists, "forgive this ti. I have urgent matters that cannot be delayed. Another day, I will certainly accompany Senior for tea."

Wang Chen’s brows dipped slightly, his expression carrying a trace of disappointnt so convincing it bordered on sincere.

"Is that so..." he said softly.

Then he chuckled, a knowing smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"Of course you have important matters to attend to."

The truth was far simpler. The invitation had been nothing more than courtesy. The longer Murong Sichen stayed, the more likely he was to notice inconsistencies—things Wang Chen had no interest in explaining.

Murong Sichen bowed once more. Before leaving, his gaze drifted toward Lin Huang, lingering for just a heartbeat.

An exceptional sword cultivator. A monstrous talent.

Under normal circumstances, Murong Sichen would have imdiately tried to recruit him into Sword Saint Heaven.

But then he rembered.

Wang Chen’s disciple.

The thought alone made him abandon the idea entirely. Inviting another man’s disciple—especially after witnessing what Wang Chen was capable of—would not be bold.

It would be suicidal.

With that realization firmly in mind, Murong Sichen turned and departed, vanishing from the arena as swiftly as he had arrived.

Wang Chen watched him go, his expression unreadable.

Only after Murong Sichen’s presence had completely faded did the faintest trace of a smile return to his face.

Another matter settled.

Wang Chen rely smiled as he watched Murong Sichen’s presence fade from his perception, thinning until it was as if the man had never existed in the first place.

The world felt quieter after that.

The next mont, Wang Chen shook his head lightly. Immortal affairs were far beyond his current concerns. For now, there was only one thing that truly mattered.

His disciple.

His gaze shifted to Lin Huang.

"Are you alright, little disciple?"

"Hmmm..." Lin Huang nodded unconsciously, though his eyes never left the unconscious figure lying on the shattered arena floor. Ying Yue’s body was still, her breath faint, her once-proud face stained with dust and blood.

It was impossible to tell what Lin Huang was thinking.

Seeing this, Wang Chen let out a low chuckle. His tone remained relaxed, almost casual, as if he were discussing sothing trivial.

"You know," he said, "killing her would actually be too easy for what she’s done."

Lin Huang’s fingers tightened slightly around his sword.

Wang Chen continued, his voice calm, unhurried, yet carrying an undercurrent of sothing far darker.

"Why don’t I make her an eternal servant instead? Bind her soul to an entity whose only purpose is to serve you. To make it more interesting, I won’t touch her mories. She’ll rember everything—what she did to you, how she stole your sword bone, how her master t his end."

A faint smile curved his lips.

"Even with all that hatred burning inside her... she would still have to kneel before you. Serve you. Obey you."

It was cruel.

Wang Chen knew that.

But cruelty, he also knew, was not sothing the world lacked.

If you chose to trample those weaker than you, then you had to be prepared for what awaited you when soone stronger ca knocking. That was the law of this world—ugly, rciless, and absolute.

Lin Huang fell silent.

For a brief mont, even he felt the temptation. Eternal servitude was a fate far worse than death. To live with hatred, regret, and helplessness for eternity... it was punishnt beyond imagination.

But in the end—

He shook his head.

"No."

That was all he said.

But Wang Chen understood.

Lin Huang did not want to give her even that much significance. To him, Ying Yue did not deserve punishnt, nor redemption, nor prolonged suffering.

She deserved erasure.

Wang Chen sighed softly. If this was the choice his disciple had made, he would not interfere.

Respecting that decision, he stepped back.

Lin Huang raised his silver sword.

There was no rage in his expression. No hatred. Only cold clarity.

The blade moved.

In an instant, thousands of sword qi strands—each thinner than a human hair—materialized above Ying Yue’s body. They humd softly, vibrating with lethal sharpness.

Then they fell.

Like a hot knife slicing through butter, Ying Yue’s form was shredded into countless fragnts. There was no scream. No resistance. No lingering soul.

Her body, her presence, her existence itself was diced apart and scattered, dissolving into the world as if she had never been born.

The arena fell silent once more.

Lin Huang lowered his sword.

At that mont, sothing inside his heart finally shattered—and with it, the last remnants of his heart demon vanished.