Originally, he didn’t want to completely break with the Wu Family, so he had been moderate in his earlier attacks, carefully avoiding the vital areas of the two men. Little did he know that these two were so ferociously unafraid of death; if things dragged on, he feared that Mo Yanhong would become enraged. Thus, he could no longer afford to show mercy to the Wu Family.
His situation was different from that of Dai Songling. Dai Songling was just a steward hired by the Mo Family for a hefty sum and would regain his freedom as soon as the contract ended—he had to think of the future in all things. But he was a household servant who had served the Mo Family for generations. If he displeased the young master, there was no need to even speak of a future. If Mo Yanhong decided, in a fit of rage, to kill him, he would have no choice but to accept his fate.
Upon hearing his command, a thick killing intent simultaneously appeared on the faces of the other guards.
"Don’t rush, don’t rush. I haven’t had my fill of watching. Let’s have fun with them slowly, wear them down until they’re completely exhausted, and then I’ll take care of them properly," Mo Yanhong waved his hand and looked at Mu Cheng and Wu Qiuyun with a cat-playing-with-a-mouse gaze, making a sinister remark with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Since his childhood, it was the first time he had suffered such a setback, having to endure silently even as several of his men had their wrist and ankle tendons severed. Facing the inexplicable fear when confronting Mu Hanyan was even more humiliating for him.
Killing Mu Cheng and Wu Qiuyun just like that would let them off too easily. He wanted to torture them slowly, to humiliate them gradually, and to trample them firmly beneath his feet. Only in this manner could he vent the hatred in his heart.
Moreover, Mu Hanyan had yet to show himself, most likely cowering from Dai Songling’s strength and not daring to show his face. Thus, he would torment Mu Hanyan’s servants right before his eyes, letting Mu Hanyan taste the agony of utter helplessness. Perhaps, witnessing his methods, that fellow might be scared enough to wet his pants.
Hehe, imagining Mu Hanyan shivering frightfully in the room and peeking outside, Mo Yanhong couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
After receiving his instructions, the guards no longer hurried to deliver fatal blows but rather surrounded Mu Cheng and Wu Qiuyun tightly. Their longswords kept away from vital spots, stabbing non-stop at the two men’s bodies.
Their clothes, unknowingly soaked through with fresh blood; the Qi within their bodies, rapidly depleting; both Mu Cheng and Wu Qiuyun’s complexions were deathly pale, their hands clutching the swords growing ever more feeble, and their numb legs, seemingly no longer their own, continued to tremble.
Mu Hanyan still hadn’t emerged, clearly still unable to overcome the crisis, and Yan Yuchu, too, hadn’t shown up, likely on the verge of a breakthrough himself.
Alas, what are the odds that both would reach a breakthrough point at the same time? Mu Cheng and Wu Qiuyun inwardly lamented their misfortune but had no choice but to desperately hold on.
Before them, a flash of sword light suddenly shot forth. The guard opposite had probably overestimated Wu Qiuyun’s condition at the moment, thrusting a sword toward the vital part of his Heart Meridian. The thrust wasn’t fast, nor was it forceful, a strike that Wu Qiuyun could have normally blocked, but after such a long, hard-fought battle, they were on their last legs, their consciousness somewhat blurred.
Seeing the thrust aimed at his vitals, Wu Qiuyun had no reaction.
"Careful." Mu Cheng mustered the last bit of Qi, took a step forward, and slammed Wu Qiuyun out of the way. The sword edge, meant for Wu Qixin’s Heart Meridian, instead pierced harshly into his shoulder.
"Clang!" The longsword clattered to the ground, and Mu Cheng stumbled and fell.
Wu Qiuyun, whom he had knocked away, couldn’t get up again, either.
Both had given their all, draining the last bit of energy from their bodies. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ n̷o̷v̷e̷l̷f̷i̷r̷e̷.net
"I thought you could hold on for a while longer. To give in so quickly is truly disappointing." Mo Yanhong walked over with a vicious smile and stepped firmly on Mu Cheng’s injured shoulder.
With Qi rushing through, blood spurted out like a fountain.