He had been kept under close watch by Qin Shaoji's men during this time, and his information was completely blocked. Only Qin Ling had told him last night that the cooperation plan had been initially approved.
I thought everything was going well and I would be able to get out soon, but the situation took a sharp turn for the worse. The cooperation plan fell through, and my mother came crying and screaming once, but was stopped. While crying, she said something like "It's all over."
Qin Xian felt uneasy and was about to go out to find out what was going on when Qin Ling came in and handed him the family head's token.
"Listen to me, Qin Xian!" Qin Ling said sternly, "After you returned from the Mystic Creation Realm, you were punished by the patriarch and confined to your quarters. You know nothing about the outside world. No matter who asks you, just say this, understand?"
Qin Xian's bad premonition intensified, and he grabbed Qin Ling's sleeve, pleading, "Please let me out. No matter what happened, please let me out so we can figure something out together, okay? I..."
Qin Xian suddenly felt dizzy. Seeing Qin Ling's calm gaze, he looked at the patriarch's token in his hand and was shocked.
The head of the household has poison on his decree.
Qin Xian fainted.
Qinling sighed, "Go to sleep."
...
4:15.
A group of nineteen people dressed in dark clothes had just arrived at "Six-Foot Lane".
This is a road located on the edge of the city, with some dirt and debris left by passing vehicles, and some old but not demolished low-rise buildings on both sides.
The sun sets late in April, and the golden crow hangs low in the west, dyeing half the sky a magnificent golden-red. Its rays shine obliquely on the abandoned buildings.
Sunlight and desolation, passion and deathly silence, contradictions intertwine, creating a scene so eerie it sends chills down your spine.
"Stop!" The person in front suddenly raised his hand.
Everyone behind them stopped.
The person in front turned their head to look at the person behind them whose face was covered, with only their eyes showing.
"Number One, kill." The aged voice rang out coldly.
Number One, at the forefront, reached for his waist with his right hand and drew a crescent-shaped scimitar from a burst of lightning. The blade flashed with a sharp light in the air, and Number One's figure appeared above an abandoned low-rise building.
Number One slashed out cleanly and decisively, without any fancy moves.
With a single slash, a terrifying silver-purple blade of light, like a crescent moon falling to earth, cleaved the abandoned low-rise building in two.
The aftershocks of the lightning energy enveloping the blade exploded, blasting the two halves of the low building into countless fragments once again.
A deafening roar shook the earth, and smoke and dust billowed into the sky.
Number One's sharp eyes, beneath his rough eyebrows, stared at the smoke and dust.
Suddenly, his ears caught a faint sound, and his muscles reacted faster than his brain. As he turned to look at it, his scimitar blocked the black bone whip that came from behind him even faster than his eyes could see.
"Whoosh—"
A black figure darted past the whip and headed straight for the face, but another man in black robes, number two, twisted his hands into a wall of wind to block the black dagger.
Number One lashed out with his whip and retreated, but another strong gust of wind swept in from behind. Number Three and Number Four attacked simultaneously, finally shattering the terrifying purple-gold fist phantom.
The men in black gathered, while Number One and his men scattered around.
The smoke and dust finally cleared, and another group of people appeared opposite these people.
When the old man in black who gave the order saw the person at the front, a glint of light flashed in his eyes.
The neat long-sleeved cargo pants, the unique dark green hair and eyes, the friendly and lively facial features and the indifferent and calm expression create a contradictory yet eye-catching temperament.
This is Chang Le.
Behind her stood countless familiar faces.
Iris, the "Purple War God" with flamboyant purple hair and indestructible body; Wan Buxun, the "Black Yama" with a murderous aura and bizarre whip techniques; the shadowy Ghost Blade; and a handsome young man with blond hair and a flying sword behind him. Behind them were twenty elite members of the Dragon Soul Army.
They lined up in a row, creating an impressive sight.
The old man in black robes spoke in a low, hoarse voice, carrying a chilling edge: "We haven't even come looking for you yet, and you've already delivered yourself to our doorstep! You're courting death!"
Chang Le sneered coldly: "Usually, those who say others are courting death end up dying first."
"Sharp-tongued! You think you can save your life with your kind of people?"
Chang Le said arrogantly, "Enough with the nonsense, let's fight!"
The old man waved.
Eighteen men in black robes attacked simultaneously.
Ghost Blade stood motionless beside Chang Le, while the others stepped forward and engaged the man in black robes in battle.
Iris, specializing in body refinement, possessed an armor as hard as steel, impervious to blades and spears; her fists were her best weapons. Her moves were wide and sweeping, her fists like thunderbolts, their force like collapsing mountains. With her ordinary demon bloodline, even a ninth-tier cultivator would find it difficult to withstand her attacks. She single-handedly held off three people.
Even the unruly warrior could fight three opponents single-handedly.
The twenty Dragon Soul Army elites were all top-tier experts at the eighth rank, and the youngest of them was an old friend of Chang Le.
Shuai Xian.
This boy, who initially tried to harm Chang Le when she first arrived in District Nine out of personal motives, was saved by Chang Le and kept in the Golden Palace. More than ten years have passed in the blink of an eye, and he has grown into a member of the Golden Palace's elite guards. Shuai Xian had just advanced to the eighth rank, and with his full strength still unused, he was fighting fiercely at the moment.
Wang Yao also came along.
Wang Yao, who is usually carefree and likes to show off, is absolutely serious and decisive when it comes to battle.
Wang Yao formed hand seals with such speed that his fingers were like afterimages, and four swords or knives of different shapes behind him vibrated and hummed.
Wang Yao was surrounded by four different types of light—cyan, yellow, blue, and green—which fell onto the four sharp weapons behind him.
"No poison pierces the throat; chopping wood and splitting; killing in a chaotic dance; annihilating the soul and taking the life."
A snake-shaped sword named "Wudu" (meaning "No Poison"), imbued with wind attributes, its movements are unpredictable, like a snake's writhing, and it is specifically designed to slit throats and dislocate necks.
A wood-chopping knife, named "Fire-cutting Knife," is made of metal and kills as easily as chopping wood, breaking bones and slicing flesh.
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