The entire inn where Qingyi was staying was silent.
The candles, torches, and mana crystals that illuminated it had been extinguished, leaving nothing but the moonlight streaming through the glass windows to light it.
In the center of the main hall, there was a single table. At it, a cloaked figure rested his back against the wooden chair.
His fingers, calloused from years of wielding swords, reached for a cup of tea on the table. His lips parted, accepting a single sip into himself.
"Ah..." The man lifted his noble, aged face, staring at the figure slowly descending the stairs.
"I don't believe you're here for good reasons." The figure's voice echoed: masculine, dignified, and soft, strangely pleasant to the ears.
It was Long Qingyi. As for the man waiting for him, he already had an idea of who he was.
"You hurt my son quite a bit..." The man spoke, confirming Qingyi's suspicions.
That man was a count, the father of the nobleman whose hand he had broken and whose subordinate he had killed a few days ago.
"I gave him nothing more than what he was looking for," Qingyi said.
The Lord did not answer him imdiately, pouring so tea for Qingyi.
"Drink, it's not-"
Before the lord could even finish his sentence, Qingyi had already taken a sip of tea.
"...poisoned..."
"It's sweet... don't you have anything stronger?" Qingyi asked, placing the teacup back on the table.
Even if it was poisoned, he highly doubted that this man possessed a poison capable of affecting him.
The lord paused for a brief mont before bursting into laughter. "HAHAHAHAHA, you are a very... very interesting man, hahahaha..." The lord slamd his hand on the table, pulling out a bottle of wine, one of the highest quality in his collection and which, fortunately, by a stroke of fate, he had decided to bring with him that day.
The mont he opened it, a strong sll of wine filled the room, capable of bewitching even a True Immortal.
Qingyi watched the blood-red liquid being poured into a glass, slling it for a brief mont before taking a single sip.
"How is your son's hand? Honestly, I wanted to blow his balls off too, but I was in a hurry," Qingyi asked, placing the glass on the table.
"He's fine. A whiny, arrogant bastard, but he's still my son. He doesn't die from so little."
"I imagine," Qingyi replied, watching that man coldly.
He was a count, and a powerful one at that, whose power was equivalent to a peak True Immortal.
Yet he sat there casually, without any guards or restrictions, drinking casually alongside a man he had just t.
"I believe you are here on diplomatic business, correct? For an
Oriental to be so far from ho."
"Not exactly," Qingyi shook his head. "It's not sothing I can tell you without having to cut out your tongue."
"Hm..." The lord scratched his chin. "Having my tongue is... pretty good."
He took a sip from his wine glass and then stood up.
"I have cut out the tongues of so n in the past. So by my own desire, so by order of His Imperial Majesty, and others by the wishes of the Church."
"I believe you are one of these." The lord extended his hands toward Qingyi.
The mont the handso young man held them, the lord smiled, whispering, "The winds in the North are cold... the Blood Lord awaits you in his eternal embrace."
As soon as that voice ca out, Qingyi sensed danger. A demonic energy surged from the Lord's gut, like a spear of blood.
Qingyi spun his body as a powerful bloody spear surged forth, tearing toward him.
He barely managed to dodge.
The spear grazed his cheek, encountering nothing but the black
dragon's scales.
An explosion of sparks engulfed the hall, followed by a shockwave that imdiately destroyed everything around them.
"A demonic cultist, huh?" Qingyi smiled, grabbing the spear and squeezing it. The steel, like crimson glass, shattered directly. "These parasites are really everywhere."
The lord's face changed completely. His calm blue eyes turned blood red, filled with a tremor and a slight surprise.
Had Qingyi dodged it?
No... what the hell were those black scales? His spear was barely able
to scratch them!
He tried to retreat, but naturally, Qingyi didn't allow it. His fist tore through the air at a terrifying speed, rising toward the demonic cultist's chin.
The cultist's face caved in, his nose was crushed, and his body was
thrown like a rag doll, so fast that he beca nothing but a blur, breaking through the wooden walls and heading toward the skies. It took a whole second for the shockwave from that blow to spread,
the entire inn imdiately turned to dust.
Fortunately, there was no one but Qingyi there.
"Damn... this brat is too strong! I should have chosen an easier
target... The cultist grunted, spinning in the air.
His face suddenly filled with terror as he called upon his demonic
energy. Two types of demonic energy, to be more specific.
The two ford two protective barriers around him, which, unfortunately, did little to stop Qingyi.
The handso young man appeared in front of him, launching a downward kick.
Fortunately, they were no longer above the village, so Qingyi didn't
hold back.
The outer barrier held Qingyi's attack for a single mont before
collapsing.
The power sent the demonic cultist flying downward at supersonic speed, hitting the ground where the inner barrier collapsed, taking everything within a five-kiloter radius with it.
Blood rose to the demonic cultist's throat, and he opened his mouth, trying to bite the poison between his teeth and kill himself, but Qingyi obviously didn't allow it.
Teleporting in front of the cultist, Qingyi stuck his hand into the cultist's mouth, pulling out a tooth and the poison capsule, imdiately sealing the cultist's cultivation.
At that mont, when he sealed that Qi, Qingyi realized sothing.
In the midst of the adrenaline rush, he hadn't even paid attention.
The lord used Mana, not Qi.
His first attack against Qingyi used Mana!
Qingyi imdiately activated his draconic eyes, observing the man's
body.
There was a Mana heart in his chest and, just below it, a Dantian.
"What the fuck is this?"
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