The moment the final syllable fell from his lips, a torrential aura detonated from Chen Ping’s core.

Qi surged like a volcano shattering its seal. An invisible, crushing spiritual pressure instantly flooded the rocky slope.

The air seemed to freeze solid. The pressure slammed into the hearts and shoulders of the trio like a physical hammer.

The 6th Level of Qi Condensation!

It was genuine, undisguised, suffocating might.

Thud! Thud!

Li Yingyong’s two lackeys were only at the 3rd Level.

Under a spiritual pressure far exceeding their limits, their legs gave way as if their bones had liquefied. They collapsed to the ground, faces draining of color until they were as pale as paper.

They shook violently, staring at Chen Ping with eyes full of absolute terror, as if a life-claiming demon had just crawled out of the Nine Hells.

Li Yingyong’s expression twisted violently. He staggered back three steps, barely keeping his footing. His chest heaved, and cold sweat instantly slicked his forehead.

The 4th Level facing the 6th Level. It was absolute suppression.

He felt as though an icy hand had gripped his heart, every beat sending a pulse of suffocating pain through his chest.

“No… impossible!”

“This… this can’t be!”

Li Yingyong shook his head frantically, trying to fling away the nightmare before him. His voice rose to a shrill, distorted shriek born of shock and fear.

“Fake! It has to be fake! How old are you? You have a Waste Spirit Root! How could you possibly be at the 6th Level?!”

He took a desperate breath.

“You used an illusion Dharma Artifact! You think you can scare me? Dream on!”

He roared, trying to pump courage into himself and his paralyzed subordinates.

“Don’t be fooled by him! Attack together! Kill him! The treasures on him are enough for us to enjoy forever!”

“Once we get the Immortal Fate… our path will be smooth sailing!”

He forcibly channeled his spiritual power. A dull yellow light flickered over his body, condensing into a shaky protective barrier.

Simultaneously, his hands fumbled at his waist, pulling a heavy, thick-spined saber from his storage bag.

Hearing the promise of treasure, the two lackeys on the ground let greed override their fear.

For a split second, the crushing pressure of the 6th Level seemed to vanish from their minds.

They struggled to their feet, drawing their weapons—a dagger and an iron-spiked club.

The three formed a loose semicircle, slowly closing in on Chen Ping.

Chen Ping watched Li Yingyong’s face—a mask of self-deception, greed, and madness.

The trio closed to within fifty feet.

The rat-faced youth with the dagger flashed a vicious look, tensing to strike first.

Chen Ping moved.

His figure blurred, vanishing from his spot and reappearing like a ghost on the rat-faced youth’s left.

With the 6th Level of Qi Condensation fueling his body, Chen Ping’s speed was in a different dimension.

The youth saw only a gray blur. A bone-chilling cold engulfed him before he could even raise his weapon.

Sshhk!

A pale cyan sword radiance swept across his neck, light as a feather, sharp as a razor slicing paper.

The ferocity on the youth’s face froze. His eyes bulged, filled with a sudden, blank confusion.

A thin red line emerged on his throat.

Then, blood sprayed like a fountain.

Clang.

The dagger fell from his limp hand. His body twitched and pitched forward, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Almost in the same breath, Chen Ping vanished again.

He reappeared to the right of the youth with the spiked club.

Having just watched his companion die in an instant, the second youth was paralyzed with horror. He instinctively crossed the club over his chest, screaming like a ghost to drive away the fear.

Chen Ping didn’t even look at the crude defense.

The Green Edge Sword shot out, fast as lightning, aiming straight for the space between the boy’s eyebrows.

A point of azure light flickered. Sharp sword Qi erupted.

Pop!

A soft sound, like a ripe watermelon bursting.

The back of the youth’s head exploded. Red and white matter sprayed into the air. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet, flinging him backward.

He slammed into a protruding rock and slid down, a limp sack of meat.

Swift as a rabbit, fierce as a falcon.

It had taken only a breath.

Two cultivators at the 3rd Level of Qi Condensation were crushed like ants, their souls scattered without putting up a fight.

The thick, metallic scent of blood saturated the air.

The madness on Li Yingyong’s face froze into a rictus of horror.

The hand gripping his saber trembled violently, veins bulging against the skin.

The bloody scene before him shattered his last shred of delusion.

The 6th Level.

This was absolutely the 6th Level.

Only a cultivator of that tier could slaughter two 3rd Level disciples with such casual, terrifying ease.

That ghostly speed. That precise, ruthless sword light. None of it could be faked.

Li Yingyong couldn’t breathe.

Immortal Fate? Treasures? They were now curses dragging him to hell.

He wanted to run. Now. Immediately.

He let out a strange, strangled cry. Forgetting his face, forgetting his dignity as a Manager, he poured all his remaining Qi into his arm and hurled the heavy saber at Chen Ping.

He didn’t hope to kill. He just wanted a split second of distraction.

Li Yingyong spun around, burning his potential to sprint toward the dense forest.

Earth-attribute protective light? Against this monster, it was as useful as paper armor.

The saber tore through the air with a howl, powerful enough to split a boulder.

But in Chen Ping’s eyes, it moved with the sluggish speed of a child’s toy.

He didn’t even bother drawing his blade to block.

He simply sidestepped.

The massive blade brushed past the hem of his robe and buried itself deep into the rock behind him with a deafening clang.

Chen Ping watched the fleeing figure of Li Yingyong. His eyes were calm, devoid of any ripple of emotion.

He raised two fingers and pointed.

The Green Edge Sword hovering beside him let out a clear, joyful hum. It transformed into a streak of azure light, tearing through the air.

It launched last, yet arrived first.

Pfft!

The dull, wet sound of steel piercing meat.

The sword punched through the back of Li Yingyong’s left knee with surgical precision, exiting through the front in a spray of blood.

The sword Qi shredded the tendons and meridians instantly.

“AHHHH!”

Li Yingyong shrieked—a sound barely human.

His sprint ended abruptly. His body collapsed like a felled tree, slamming face-first into the dirt and gravel.

Pain convulsed his frame. Sweat mixed with the mud on his face.

Chen Ping walked slowly toward him.

He stood over the Manager, looking down as Li Yingyong writhed and clawed at the ground.

The Green Edge Sword hovered in the air, its tip dripping crimson beads of blood, aiming directly at Li Yingyong’s heart.

“Spare… spare me! Grandfather Chen! I was wrong! Greed blinded my heart! I’m not human!”

Li Yingyong wept openly, snot and tears mixing with the blood and dirt. The arrogance of the Servant Peak Manager was gone, replaced by the pathetic groveling of a dying dog.

“The Immortal Fate… I don’t want it! It’s yours! Just spare my life! I swear, I, Li Yingyong, will never appear before you again! I’ll be your ox, your horse!”

He wailed, dragging his useless leg as he tried to crawl away, leaving a bright red smear on the rocks.

Chen Ping’s face was expressionless. His voice was colder than glacial ice.

“Where is Fatty Wang?”

Li Yingyong’s wailing choked off. A flash of despair and venomous hate flickered in his eyes.

He knew he was finished.

But the survival instinct made him grasp at the final straw.

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! As long as you spare me! Fatty Wang… he came in too! He’s to the west! About thirty miles from here, there’s a valley shaped like a gourd. At the bottom, there’s a hidden cave! He’s hiding there!”

He gasped for air, his eyes pleading.

“He’s waiting for me… waiting for us to kill you so he can take his share! It was him! He instigated everything! He told me you had the Immortal Fate! Grandfather Chen! Go find him! Spare me! I’m just a dog! Let me go!”

He babbled incoherently, desperate to shift the blame, desperate for a sliver of hope.

“Gourd-mouth valley. Hidden stone cave.”

Chen Ping repeated the words, confirming the location.

Li Yingyong’s eyes lit up with frantic hope.

“Yes, yes! That’s the place! Senior Brother Chen is wise! You—”

His voice cut off.

The Green Edge Sword flashed—a cold azure line that pierced his heart without resistance.

Li Yingyong’s body jerked violently.

The hope in his eyes was instantly swallowed by infinite darkness and shock. His mouth hung open, as if he had one last lie to tell.

But only a mouthful of black blood gushed out.

His head lolled to the side.

Silence reclaimed the slope.