After abandoning his human and demon identities, he actually became a ghost cultivator.
Daoist Yimu would never have expected Fang Yue to have such an opportunity. According to his plan, Fang Yue should have died in the Ghost Realm. Otherwise, what would be the point of sacrificing all his cultivation?
In the end, it only fulfilled his opportunity to become a ghost cultivator?
Yi Mu's face was ashen as he coldly said, "Everyone, attack together! Whoever kills him today will be the next sect leader!"
The disciples looked at each other, none of them daring to go forward.
Yimu added, "There are so many of you, and he's just one person. Even if he's incredibly powerful, what can he do?"
The disciples hesitated, but finally rushed forward. Except for Mu Ning, who stood there, staring blankly at everything in front of her. Fang Yue's appearance made her unable to believe it, and the pool of blood on the ground where her dead senior brother was lying made her even more unable to believe it.
He... he is no longer the person she remembers.
However, what happened next was even more gruesome, causing her to fall to the ground.
A group of disciples, swords in hand, flew towards Fang Yue. Fang Yue, however, stood with his hands behind his back, facing the wind. His expression was serene and beautiful, as if he were just a refined gentleman strolling leisurely, appreciating flowers and the moon, or simply resting. Yet, even before those people could get close, this refined gentleman seemed to be surrounded by an invisible net of swords, which sliced everyone into pieces.
Blood rained down, and severed limbs fell to the ground bit by bit. Yet, his white clothes remained unstained by blood, and his calm expression remained unchanged. In this horrific yet eerily beautiful scene, there was not a single cry of anguish.
Everyone was reduced to pieces before they could even react.
The smell of blood...
A strong smell of blood.
Mu Ning collapsed to the ground, clutching her head, and let out an uncontrollable scream.
The once dashing and handsome disciples of the Xuanmen sect were reduced to pieces of flesh and blood on the ground in an instant, leaving Yimu speechless.
Fang Yue smiled, "Since I don't know which one to kill first, I might as well kill them all at once."
It's true that Yimu is heartbroken at losing so many disciples, but even more so... is the fear that's spreading through him. He points at Fang Yue and says tremblingly, "You... are you even human?"
Next came his painful scream.
His outstretched hand was also broken; now, he had lost both hands. Yimu lay on the ground, writhing in pain.
Fang Yue had never lost an arm, so he said, "Master must be in a lot of pain right now."
“You…” Yi Mu completely lost the composure of a Grandmaster at this moment. He gritted his teeth, “Back then, I really shouldn’t have kept you alive. When you were seven years old… I should have killed you for your father…”
"Kill me for my father?" Fang Yue smiled. "My father did want to kill me, but unfortunately, I struck first before he could."
"What did you say?"
"Oh right, I forgot to tell Master that my father, that man, didn't die of illness. It was because... I secretly used the jade pendant I had to exchange for money, went to the pharmacy to buy arsenic, and slowly... put it into his favorite wine. You know what? Watching him slowly die was a very satisfying thing."
How old was he then? Only seven years old!
Yimu exclaimed in shock, "You actually... you actually killed your father!"
"The word 'father' is just a nice-sounding word. In this world, only the strong survive. So what if he is my father? If I want to live, then I have no choice but to... kill him."
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