Dual Cultivation System: The Villainous Servant’s Rise

Chapter 250: Execution! Harvest!

Amidst the roaring chants demanding blood, Chi Lian flicked her sleeve.

The air above the execution platform shimmered and tore open. Hundreds of spiritual swords manifested from the void, hanging suspended like a steel cage around the broken form of Old Ghost Black Sha. Each blade hummed with a cold, hungry light, pointing unerringly at the traitor.

Chi Lian’s voice cut through the noise, cold and absolute.

“According to Sect Law, those who betray the Heavenly Void Sect—regardless of status, contribution, or cultivation base—shall suffer the extreme penalty: Ten Thousand Swords Piercing the Heart, followed by the Refinement of the Soul.”

Her gaze swept across the tens of thousands of watching disciples. “I do not care who you are. If you harbor thoughts of treason, bury them deep. If you act on them… well.”

She gestured to the trembling figure on the platform. “Let Hall Master Black Sha be your lesson.”

Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!

Before the echo of her words had faded, the cage of swords collapsed.

Under the gaze of the entire sect, the blades rained down like a metallic storm.

Squelch! Squelch!

The sound of steel tearing through meat and bone was wet and sickeningly rhythmic. Blood sprayed into the air as sword after sword pinned the traitor to the stone. Within seconds, the human shape of Old Ghost Black Sha was gone, replaced by a grotesque mound of hilts and a spreading pool of crimson.

He had been minced. Not a single inch of intact skin remained.

But Chi Lian was thorough. To ensure no desperate Nascent Soul could escape, she snapped her fingers again.

Whoosh.

A globule of blood-colored flame drifted down, landing atop the pile of steel and gore. The fire roared to life, unnatural and consuming. It didn’t just burn flesh; it incinerated spiritual essence. A faint, high-pitched wail seemed to ripple through the air before being abruptly silenced.

Old Ghost Black Sha was gone. Body and soul, erased from existence.

Sobbing broke out in the isolated section holding the Overlord Hall disciples. They weren’t crying from the horror of the gore—this was a Demonic Sect, after all—but because the pile of ash was once their teacher.

The rest of the sect watched with stoic approval. Chi Lian’s methods were known. She hunted rats, and she exterminated them. To the average disciple, the Sun Moon Sect was a mortal enemy; colluding with them was unforgivable. Black Sha’s death was justice.

With the execution complete, Chi Lian stepped back and nodded to Han Lie. Your turn.

Han Lie adjusted his robes and stepped forward, swapping places with the Grand Elder.

Standing at the edge of the platform, looking down at the sea of faces, he felt a strange sense of vertigo. Not long ago, he had been a lowly Servant Disciple, invisible and despised. Now, he stood as the Ninth Seat of the Elder Council, holding the power of life and death over thousands.

“Grand Elder Chi Lian has done the hard work,” Han Lie began, his voice amplified by qi. “Now, I will take over the—”

“Get down!”

A roar of pure, unadulterated rage erupted from the Overlord Hall containment zone.

Han Lie paused, eyebrows raised. He looked down at the thousands of disciples penned in below.

“Get off the stage!”

“You bastard, Han Lie! You framed our Master! Get down!”

“You killed Senior Sister Cai Zhen! You killed Senior Sister Yun Xia! You even murdered Eldest Senior Brother Ye Lang! And now you slaughter our Master? Are you even human?!”

“Do you think wearing an Elder’s robe makes you worthy? We will never respect you!”

“Master gave his life to this sect, and you brand him a traitor? Han Lie, you better pray you stay strong forever. The moment I have the power, I will be the first to take your head!”

The disciples of the Overlord Hall were frothing with indignation. Their eyes burned with hatred, their shouts merging into a chaotic wave of vitriol. Individually, they were ants to him. But united, thousands strong, they possessed the fervor of a cornered beast.

The Overlord Hall was one of the Eight Great Halls. They had pride. They had history. And they were not going quietly.

“Heh…”

Han Lie chuckled.

It was a soft sound, but in the tense atmosphere, it carried like a thunderclap. The smile that spread across his face didn’t reach his eyes. It was the smile of a predator deciding which artery to sever first.

Before this moment, Han Lie had harbored a flicker of hesitation. After all, wiping out thousands of his own sect members was a heavy burden, even for a pragmatist.

But now?

Hearing them invoke Ye Lang—the man who had tried to kill him—and defend a traitor, that final shred of pity evaporated.

Han Lie snapped his fingers.

Snap.

From the shadows behind the tribunal, thirty high-ranking Enforcers surged out. They moved with blurred speed, forming a tight perimeter around the Overlord Hall disciples, blocking every exit.

The shouting died down, replaced by a ripple of confusion and rising panic. The older disciples, sensing the killing intent saturating the air, went pale.

Han Lie looked down at them, his expression bored.

“According to Sect Law: When a Hall Master commits treason, their entire lineage shares the guilt.”

He tilted his head. “Why do you think we separated you from the others?”

“W-What?!”

The realization hit them like a physical blow. A commotion broke out in the pen.

“You’re bluffing!” a young disciple screamed, his voice cracking. “You wouldn’t dare kill all of us! We are thousands!”

But the older disciples remained silent, trembling. They knew the history of the Heavenly Void Sect. They knew that when the sect cleaned house, it didn’t leave dust behind.

Han Lie extended his right hand.

A flash of crimson light coalesced in his grip. The Crimson Oath. The blade hummed, vibrating with a thirst that seemed to darken the air around it.

“The Grand Elder has entrusted me with the cleanup,” Han Lie said softly.

He looked at the mass of people below not as fellow disciples, but as a crop ready for harvest.

“So…”

“Go.”

Whoosh!

He tossed the Crimson Oath into the air.

The blade didn’t fall. It accelerated, turning into a streak of red lightning that dove into the crowd.

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

The sound was wet and rhythmic, like a scythe cutting through ripe wheat.

The Crimson Oath, now a Middle Grade Heaven Rank artifact, was a sentient nightmare. It didn’t just cut; it drank.

It tore through the crowd, weaving a web of red light. Any disciple grazed by its edge didn’t just bleed—they withered. In the blink of an eye, the blood and flesh were violently siphoned from their bodies, leaving behind desiccated, skin-wrapped skeletons that collapsed with the sound of dry twigs breaking.

“Ahhh! Help me!”

“No! No!”

“Run! Break the formation!”

Panic exploded. The Overlord Hall disciples trampled each other in a desperate bid to escape, their Dao Hearts shattering under the horror.

But there was nowhere to run. The Enforcers stood like iron walls at the perimeter, pushing them back into the grinder.

It was a massacre.

Under the grey sky of the Martial Arts Square, Han Lie stood impassively on the podium, watching the harvest. Below, the screams of the dying merged with the terrifying whistle of the Crimson Oath. Blood sprayed in arcs, painting the ground, but most of it was consumed by the greedy blade.

It was a vision of hell—a cold, efficient, industrial-scale slaughter.

………