Chapter 56 The Demise of the Zhao Family! Dawn breaks over Qingxi County!

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan looked up.

He looked at the young man holding a long saber ten paces away.

The cyan-white arc of light on the blade slowly retracted, and the last trace of thunder patterns disappeared into the cloth wrapping of the hilt.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan stared at that saber for a long time.

"In your saber..."

His voice shattered into bubbles, squeezing out word by word from deep within his throat.

"...is the stuff of that trash surnamed Wang."

Back then in the Prefecture, he had seen Old Wang strike with his saber.

That unreasonably fierce thunder intent was something he had remembered for twenty years.

Lin Chen flicked the blood off the blade.

He sheathed the long saber, the guard and scabbard meeting with a crisp click.

"He is not trash."

Lin Chen walked up to Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan and looked down at the old man leaning against the broken pillar.

"He is the Head Catcher of Qingxi County."

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's mouth twitched.

He leaned against the stump of the broken pillar, the bloody froth in his mouth not yet fully spat out.

His left hand pressed against the gaping wound on his chest.

Between his palm and the wound was a layer of blood-soaked cotton robe; beneath the fabric, a broken rib had pierced his lung, and with every breath, bubbles emerged from the wound.

He wasn't dead yet.

A Martial Artist in the Middle Stage of the Tongmai Realm, with decades of True Qi Foundation nurtured in their Dantian Qi Sea, could not be drained dry in just one or two strikes.

Even if the Meridians were damaged and the internal organs ruptured, as long as the Dantian was not shattered, that mass of True Qi remained.

Like an old well about to dry up, there was still one last pool of muddy water at the bottom.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan felt that pool of water.

His pupils constricted violently.

"You little beast—"

The voice squeezed out from the depths of his throat, so hoarse it was barely human.

But along with that roar, the last mass of True Qi deep in his Dantian exploded.

A grayish-white airwave surged from his body, sending broken tiles and wood flying, clattering against the walls on all sides.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan stood up from beneath the broken pillar.

His body swayed.

His legs shook so much he could barely stand. The cotton robe on the left side of his chest had already been matted into a dark red hard shell by the blood.

But his eyes lit up.

That light was not Battle Intent.

It was madness.

It was an old beast cornered, baring its teeth one last time before its final breath.

"The Zhao Family's Foundation of several generations—"

He raised his right palm, and the True Qi in his palm condensed extremely fast.

Abnormally fast.

This was not regulating his breath; this was burning his Foundation.

For a Tongmai Realm Martial Artist, burning their Foundation to catalyze True Qi was equivalent to suicide.

But in exchange, it granted a single strike that briefly restored them to their Peak—or even surpassed it.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's Qi field reshaped itself.

Grayish-white mist surged and spread, covering a five-pace radius in front of him.

Within the Qi field, the air became viscous.

Gravel suspended in the air.

The blood seeping from the cracks in the floor tiles was lifted by the pressure of the True Qi, condensing into dark red beads floating in mid-air.

"It absolutely must not... fall at the hands of a mere brat like you!"

He thrust his palm out.

This palm strike was different from all previous ones.

There was no grayish-white ball of light.

No three-foot-wide pillar of air.

Only an almost transparent palm print, silently cutting through the air, pressing towards Lin Chen's face.

The entire essence of a Tongmai Realm Martial Artist's life-burning strike was compressed to the extreme.

It discarded all flashy appearances, leaving only the purest—lethality.

The hair on the back of Lin Chen's neck stood up.

His body reacted faster than his brain.

Activating the Divine Movement Step, he twisted his waist rapidly, his long saber unsheathed, slashing diagonally to meet the transparent palm print.

The moment the blade and the palm print collided.

There was no sound.

Silence lasted for about half a breath.

Then, the airwave exploded!

Lin Chen's arms were knocked back by an unreasonably tyrannical force.

The old wound on his web of thumb and forefinger tore open again, blood gushing out along the cloth wrapping of the saber hilt.

The soles of his boots plowed two half-foot-long furrows into the floor tiles, his toes clenching inside his boots until they ached.

The bones in his arms were screaming.

The walls of his Meridians were screaming.

The Shadowless Thunder Blade Saber Intent that had just finished Fusion in his Dantian was thrown into turmoil by this impact, the two types of Saber Intent nearly falling apart.

Lin Chen clenched his teeth.

Pressing his tongue against his upper palate, he forced himself to swallow a mouthful of metallic blood.

He didn't retreat.

His boots were nailed to the floor tiles.

The toes of his right foot had already dug a hole through the leather lining of his boot.

The power of this palm strike was indeed terrifying.

A Tongmai Realm Middle Stage burning their Foundation—the power of this one palm far exceeded the Qi Condensation palm from last night.

But that was it.

Lin Chen saw it clearly.

After Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan unleashed that palm strike, he looked as if all his bones had been removed.

His body lurched forward half a step, and his right knee slammed directly onto the broken tiles.

He knelt.

The mad light that had just ignited in those cloudy old eyes was extinguishing at a visible rate.

His Dantian Qi Sea—was empty.

The final strike exchanged by burning his Foundation had been entirely poured into that palm strike just now.

Not a single drop remained.

Now, Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan had no True Qi protecting his body and no Qi field suppression.

He was just a heavily injured, blood-depleted old man kneeling in a pile of rubble.

Lin Chen retracted the long saber from in front of him.

The cracks on the blade surface were clearly visible in the sunlight.

After continuously enduring the impact of Tongmai Realm palm strikes, this steel saber already showed signs of metal fatigue.

But it could still be used for one more strike.

That was enough.

Lin Chen took a step forward with his right foot.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan knelt in the rubble, head tilted back, looking at the young man approaching.

He wanted to stand up.

His knees pushed twice, the broken tiles grinding bloody marks into his shins.

He couldn't hold himself up.

He tried again.

This time, even his knees didn't budge.

Dantian empty, Meridians broken, Foundation burned.

Over seventy years of cultivation accumulation, the Family assets and dignity built up over four generations—all of it was completely wiped out in this one morning.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's mouth twitched.

It was hard to tell if he wanted to laugh or curse.

"You think... killing this old man... will be the end of the Zhao Family?"

His voice was crushed to dust, every word wrapped in bloody froth.

"In the Prefecture... the connections the Zhao Family cultivated for generations... are deeply intertwined..."

He stared into Lin Chen's eyes, the last bit of malice burning in those cloudy old eyes.

"A mere Ninth Rank Head Catcher... you can't stop it... those people... will grind you to dust..."

Lin Chen stopped in front of him.

He looked down at the old man kneeling in the rubble.

"You're right."

Lin Chen's voice was not loud.

"The matters of the Prefecture, we'll talk about later."

He raised the long saber.

"But your matter will be settled right now."

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's pupils dilated sharply.

He saw the trajectory of the long saber being raised over the young man's head.

He saw the residual cyan-white arc of light on the blade.

He saw that extremely faint trace of thunder patterns along the edge of the blade.

He even vaguely saw Old Wang.

Twenty years ago in the Prefecture, he had personally crippled that Head Catcher surnamed Wang.

Shattered his Foundation, broke his limbs, and threw him into a mass grave.

He thought that trash had long since rotted in the mud.

He didn't expect that trash would crawl all the way to Qingxi County.

Playing the fool and drinking wine in the County Office for twenty years.

Then, on the final night, he placed his life and his saber techniques into the hands of the kid before him.

Retribution.

As this word flashed through Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's mind, the saber had already fallen.

Shadowless Thunder Blade.

It wasn't any specific form.

It was all the accumulation, all the anger, all the debts repaid on behalf of Old Wang—condensed into a single strike.

The blade cut through the third cervical vertebra of Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan.

The steel edge sliced through flesh, through the windpipe, through the carotid artery, and emerged from the muscle layer on the opposite side.

A white-haired head separated from the neck.

It flipped twice in the air.

The white hair fanned out, trailing a grayish-white arc in the morning light.

The head landed on a pile of broken tiles three paces away, bounced once, and rolled into a pool of long-cooled blood.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's cloudy old eyes were still half-open.

The morning light of Qingxi County was reflected in his pupils.

The bloody froth still hung from the corner of his mouth.

The body remained kneeling for two breaths before slowly toppling forward.

The headless neck pointed downward, dark red blood gushing from the cross-section and winding through the cracks in the broken tiles.

The front yard fell completely silent.

So silent that the faint gurgling sound of blood flowing down the slope of the floor tiles could be heard.

The Zhao Family guards stared at the headless corpse kneeling in the rubble.

The sabers and spears in their hands seemed to suddenly turn into scalding iron.

Clattering, they dropped to the ground.

Someone knelt directly.

Then a second, a third.

Ten, twenty.

Hundreds of Zhao Family guards and servants knelt, from the front yard all the way to the depths of the corridors.

Weapons were thrown before them, hands pressed against the floor tiles, foreheads touching the cold brick surface.

On the second-floor corridor.

Zhao Tingyuan leaned against the railing, clutching the wooden bars with both hands, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

His mouth was open, and a disjointed whimper came from his throat.

He had watched with his own eyes as his Family's final and strongest pillar—had its head cut off by a single saber strike.

The Old Ancestor's head was rolling in the blood in the courtyard.

White hair disheveled, covered in mud and broken tiles.

Zhao Tingyuan's eyes rolled back, and his body slid down from the railing, collapsing onto the corridor floor.

He fainted.

A faint blue light spread across the edge of Lin Chen's vision.

[Slain Zhao Family Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan (Tongmai Realm Middle Stage), killed the strongest person in Qingxi County across realms! Merit Evaluation: Unparalleled!]

[Point Reward: 8,000 points!]

[Additional Evaluation: Completely eradicated the Zhao Clan, the largest harmful force in Qingxi County, purging the county's cancer! Merit Evaluation: Excellent!]

[Point Reward: 5,000 points!]

[Current System Accumulated Total Points: 17,600 points.]

The point digits flickered in his vision for several breaths before stabilizing.

Seventeen thousand six hundred.

Lin Chen withdrew his gaze from the System panel.

He flicked the blood off the long saber.

The cracks on the blade became even more obvious after cleaning—this saber wouldn't last many more times.

He sheathed the saber.

He turned to face the crowd kneeling in the courtyard.

The morning light was now fully bright.

Sunlight shone over the eastern wall, gilding the bloodstains and broken tiles in the front yard with a golden edge.

The commoners lying on the roofs of the shops opposite were all peeking, their mouths hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.

"The... The Zhao Family Patriarch's head fell..."

"The Foundation of several generations of the Zhao Family... is gone just like that."

Whispered voices spread along the roof ridges, following the alleys to the streets further away.

Lin Chen ignored those voices.

He walked to Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's head, squatted down, and picked it up.

White hair hung through his fingers, and blood dripped onto the toes of his boots.

He stood up.

He raised the head to shoulder height.

Facing the entire Zhao Family front yard.

Facing everyone kneeling, standing, or collapsed.

"The Zhao Family bandit has been executed."

Lin Chen walked down from the stone steps of the front yard, his gaze sweeping over the kneeling Zhao Family guards and servants.

"All direct Zhao Family Bloodlines, stay where you are and await judgment."

His hand rested back on the bronze mouth of the scabbard.

"Guards and servants, those who lay down their weapons shall not be killed."

As his voice fell, another clatter of weapons hitting the ground echoed.

Lin Chen threw Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's head to the Bailiffs behind him.

"Hang it at the entrance of the County Office."

When the Bailiff caught the head with both hands, his hands were shaking.

But he didn't hesitate; he turned and ran.

Lin Chen walked through the middle of the crowd.

Stepping over broken blades and blood, he walked towards the Zhao Family's backyard.

The backyard.

The Zhao Family's storehouse, the Zhao Family's secret room, the entire Family fortune accumulated over four generations.

He needed to personally inventory it.

When he reached the moon gate of the backyard, Lin Chen's footsteps paused.

His gaze fell on the wall next to the moon gate.

A bronze plaque was embedded in the brick joints of the wall, with four characters carved on it—

Forever Guarding Qingxi.

Lin Chen stared at the bronze plaque for two breaths.

He reached out and pried it off the wall, turning it over to see the back.

A line of small characters was carved on the back of the bronze plaque, much finer than the front.

"Personally inscribed by the Sect Master of the Wang Clan of the Prefecture, presented to the Qingxi Zhao Family for generations of vigilance."

The Wang Clan.

The Wang Clan of the Prefecture.

The words Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan said before he died were clarified at this moment.

The Zhao Family was merely a chess piece.

The one playing the game was in the Prefecture.

Lin Chen tucked the bronze plaque into his chest, next to the sharkskin-covered ledger.

He pushed open the moon gate and stepped inside.

Behind him, the sunlight in the Zhao Family's front yard grew brighter and brighter.

Old Patriarch Zhao Cangyuan's headless body still knelt in the rubble, its shadow stretched long by the morning light.

The sky of Qingxi County had brightened.