As the sun rose, Murong Jin was finishing his breakfast when a shout echoed from outside.
"Jin of the Murong Clan! As the envoy of the Tang Clan, you are ordered to come to the Tang Estate and beg for forgiveness for the crime of harming the Third Young Master!"
Murong Jin stepped outside, his displeasure evident at their sudden arrival.
"Whatever. Let’s get this over with," he muttered, moving toward the carriage—only to be blocked by the envoy.
"What are you doing?!" Murong Jin snapped, frustration boiling in his voice.
"The Third Young Master has ordered that you are not to ride in the carriage," the envoy replied smugly. "He demands that you walk the entire way."
Murong Jin’s fists clenched until his knuckles turned white, but he had no choice. "Fine," he spat through gritted teeth.
Hours later, they finally arrived at the Tang Estate. The massive gates, flanked by jade-carved pillars, loomed before them—a display of wealth and power that was impossible to ignore. As they approached, the guards halted them.
"State your identity and purpose," one demanded.
"I am the coachman sent by the Third Young Master, Tang Jifu, to retrieve the Murong heir," the envoy said, flashing his badge.
Tang Jifu… so that’s the bastard’s name. Murong Jin seethed silently.
Satisfied, the guards allowed them entry. The gates swung open, revealing a grand hall adorned with statues of jade and spirit crystals. At the center stood a towering effigy of the Tang Clan’s founder, Tang Luo.
That bastard… They dare erect a statue of him? He played a key role in my downfall! Rage surged through Murong Jin, his veins bulging as he fought to contain his fury.
At the center of the estate, lounging beneath an umbrella, sat Tang Jifu—the Third Young Master of the Tang Clan. Draped in luxurious silks, he wore jade bracelets and a hairband, his sly green eyes glinting like a fox’s. Behind him stood twenty guards, their presence a silent threat.
"Ohhh… Look who’s here," Tang Jifu drawled, tilting his head with a mocking smile. "The Murong bastard who dared mark this precious face." He pointed to a faint scratch on his cheek.
"THAT’S JUST A SCR—"
Before Murong Jin could finish, a guard slammed his face into the ground. "You do not speak unless the Young Master permits it."
These bastards… I’ll kill them all!
"Oh~ Such delicious murderous intent," Tang Jifu cooed, pressing his foot down on Murong Jin’s head. "But how do you plan to kill me, hm? Should I pluck out your teeth one by one? Shatter your dantian? So many delightful options…" He tapped his chin in mock contemplation.
"YOU BASTARD!!" Murong Jin shouted loudly with anger, pushing the guard aside and lunging at Tang Jifu, fist raised—
But before his strike could land, an invisible force crushed him to the ground. His body locked in paralysis, every vein burning as if about to burst.
"W-What… is this energy?!" he choked out, his muscles refusing to obey.
"You wish to harm me?" Tang Jifu smirked. "You managed to harm me, because I had my guard down last time… But you—" Tang Jifu’s voice dripped with venomous amusement as he leaned closer. "A MERE ANT FROM THE MURONG CLAN DARES CHALLENGE ME?!"
He was toying with Murong Jin, savoring every second of his suffering.
"This is my clan’s signature technique—Poison Dragon Aura. Just standing in its presence corrodes your meridians and liquefies your organs from within! HAHAHAHA!" With a cruel grin, he shoved his boot into Murong Jin’s mouth. "Lick it, dog. Show me how a slave begs."
Pleasure burned in Tang Jifu’s eyes as he watched Murong Jin choke. There was nothing he loved more than breaking those beneath him—especially the worthless trash of the Murong Clan.
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Finally, he withdrew his aura, allowing Murong Jin a ragged gasp of air before lazily flicking his wrist. "Guards. Make him kneel."
Five armored figures advanced.
"W-What are you—?! Bastards—!" Murong Jin snarled, but his body was already wrecked. The Poison Dragon Aura had left his veins on fire, every capillary screaming as if pierced by needles. His struggles were useless. The guards forced him to his knees, bones grinding against stone.
Tang Jifu picked up a steel pole, twirling it with a predator’s grace.
"Did you really think I’d let you off so easily?" His smile was a blade.
CRACK!
The first swing shattered Murong Jin’s ribs.
"AGHHH—!" Blood sprayed from his lips.
"One." Tang Jifu’s voice was singsong.
BANG!
"Two." The next strike obliterated Murong Jin’s leg, bone splintering beneath the force. Screams tore through the estate.
"SHUT UP!" Tang Jifu roared, channeling Qi into the third strike.
SHIT! I’M REALLY GOING TO DIE! Murong Jin barely managed to circulate his own Qi, hardening his body at the last second—but it wasn’t enough. The impact still caved his chest inward, agony erupting like a thousand blades shredding him from within.
"Three!" Tang Jifu paused, tapping the pole against his palm. "Oops… I lost count!" He turned to a guard, feigning innocence. *Where were we?"
"I… don’t recall, Young Master." The guard said, trying to please the Tang Jifu.
"Ah, well." Tang Jifu sighed, stroking Murong Jin’s bloodied face. "I suppose we start over."
FUCK! Murong Jin thought, he had indured so much pain... And now they needed to start over again?!
"Don’t worry..." Tang Jifu whispered. "Only five more."
CRUNCH!
Murong Jin’s left arm snapped like dry wood.
"One... I'l spare your right arm.."
A lighter strike—just enough to fracture his right arm.
"Two."
His left leg buckled, bone shards tearing through muscle.
"Three."
The fourth blow hammered into his spine, nearly severing it.
"Four."
Murong Jin’s screams had long since turned hoarse, his body a ruined puppet held together by sheer hatred.
"You should’ve known better than to touch this face," Tang Jifu mused, raising the pole one last time. "Five!"
SNAP!
Murong Jin’s hip gave way. His shriek was barely human.
"Alright," Tang Jifu said, tossing the pole aside. "You may leave now."
Murong Jin spat blood, vision swimming as he managed to speak. "H-How…?"
"Oh?" Tang Jifu blinked, mockingly. "You still have one working arm, don’t you? Crawl."
This bastard… I swear… I’ll kill him. Murong Jin thought...
---
Hours later, Jin Muwa stood at the Murong Estate gates, her heart pounding with dread. Then—she saw it.
A figure. Crawling. Dragging itself forward inch by inch, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
The figure froze. Then, with agonizing effort, it lifted its head.
Murong Jin’s face was a mask of blood, his eyes barely focused. His right arm—the only limb still functional—trembled as he dragged himself forward, his broken body leaving a smeared trail of crimson in the dirt.
"YOUNG MASTER!" Jin Muwa sprinted to him, her voice cracking. She dropped to her knees, hands fluttering over his ruined form, unsure where to even touch him without causing more pain. "W-What happened to you?!" Tears blurred her vision.
Murong Jin’s lips parted, but only a weak, guttural sound escaped. His fingers dug into the earth, his remaining strength spent.
"No—no, don’t speak! We need to get you to the lead physician—now!"
She scooped him into her arms, his weight limp and feverish against her chest. His breath came in shallow, wet gasps.
"Hold on," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure he could hear her but she ran.
---
The doors to the medical hall burst open with a crash.
"LEAD PHYSICIAN! HELP!" Jin Muwa’s voice tore through the quiet chamber, raw with panic.
The elderly physician turned, his initial smile vanishing the moment he saw the bundle in her arms. "Young Jiwa, is there a problem—?"
Then he saw Murong Jin.
The boy’s robes were shredded, his skin a grotesque tapestry of bruises and open wounds. Blood seeped from his nose, his mouth, the corners of his eyes. One arm bent at a sickening angle, and his legs—
"HEAVENS ABOVE!" The physician lurched forward, hands already glowing with medicinal Qi. "Lay him in the treating room—now, now!"
Jin Muwa staggered after him, her arms sticky with blood. "Will he—? Can you—?"
"No questions! Go—fetch the clan elders! And the bone-mending salve from the red cabinet! RUN!"
She ran... and ran...
