CHAPTER 82: END OF FLOWER THIEVES

The silence shattered.

A guttural roar tore from the bandits as they surged forward, qi flaring like wild flames. The hall shook under the weight of a dozen killing intents, steel flashing, talismans burning, and blades of spirit-light cleaving toward Tian Lei from every direction.

He did not flinch.

Tian Lei’s foot shifted half a step, and the marble beneath him cracked like ice. His palm rose—not with haste, but with inevitability.

Shua!

A single arc of energy swept outward, invisible yet absolute. Weapons split in midair, shattered halves spinning away as if they had never been forged. The bodies behind them followed, torsos and limbs severed in clean, impossible lines.

Screams tore through the hall, mingled with the sound of blood striking stone.

Yet Tian Lei was already moving. His form blurred between the collapsing corpses, a phantom weaving through carnage. Each step landed with surgical precision, each movement carrying the inevitability of a guillotine.

An axe-wielding cultivator roared, qi pouring into his weapon until it shone like molten gold. Tian Lei’s eyes barely flickered. His finger extended, tapped the axe mid-swing.

Crack!

The golden light vanished. The weapon fractured like brittle clay. The wielder’s chest followed, split down the center before his body even understood death.

"Monster!" another shrieked, summoning chains of black qi that writhed like serpents.

Tian Lei exhaled softly. The chains reached him—and fell apart, unraveling strand by strand before they could even touch his robes. His hand snapped outward, two fingers gripping the man’s throat. A twist.

The body crumpled like discarded parchment.

Blood mist hung thick in the air. Still, the elder had not moved. His sunken eyes glowed as he watched, lips curling into something between fascination and rage. The phantom claw behind him twitched restlessly, hungering.

The survivors regrouped around him, trembling but desperate. The elder’s voice lashed out like a whip:

"Together! Break him apart!"

They obeyed.

Three spirit blades flew at once, carving luminous arcs through the hall. A talisman ignited, releasing a storm of fire arrows. The elder’s phantom claw surged forward, its spectral talons stretching wide enough to blot out the lanterns.

For a mortal rank, it should have been certain death.

Tian Lei’s expression did not change.

His hand rested lightly on the broken blade at his side. The steel thrummed—once, twice—its fragments resonating with the abyssal treasures within him. Then he drew.

Light.

A single stroke carved across the world.

The phantom claw split down the center, dissolving into smoke. Fire arrows winked out like candles drowned in rain. Spirit blades met the edge of his strike and shattered into glittering shards.

The same light crossed the bandits themselves.

When it faded, silence reigned. One by one, bodies fell apart—necks, torsos, arms severed in clean, merciless lines. The polished marble drank deeply, veins of crimson spreading outward until the hall seemed painted in blood.

At the center stood Tian Lei, robes unstained, breath steady, eyes cold.

Only the elder remained, his frail body trembling, not from age, but from terror.

He staggered back, his voice cracking. "You... you can’t be mortal rank. What are you?"

Tian Lei’s gaze met his. Calm. Inevitable.

"I told you already." His voice was soft, yet every syllable carried the weight of truth.

"I’m mortal rank."

The elder’s heart quailed. He tried to summon qi, but the broken blade whispered again—one final hum.

Then his world went dark, head tumbling from his shoulders.

The hall was still. The storm had passed.

Tian Lei exhaled once, sliding the broken blade back into its sheath. Around him, lanternlight flickered weakly, struggling to illuminate the slaughter.

Behind him, he felt eyes watching. The City Lord stood frozen in disbelief, Lin Yao’s lips parted in shock, and Yue Xin’s icy mask remained unbroken—yet her qi trembled faintly, betraying a single thought.

Who the fuck is he?

"Which... which sect do you belong to?" In the end, Yue Xin could not hold back. She rarely spoke even in fights, yet now, even as blood trailed from her shoulder wound, the words slipped out.

"I am from the Azure Feather Sect," Tian Lei said calmly, "a direct disciple of the Sect Master."

They all looked at him, stunned.

"So you are... that heir. Then it’s not strange," the City Lord muttered. For the Azure Feather Sect was known across the land as a King-Grade Sect. In fact, even among King-Grade sects, it ranked in the middle of Emperor-Grade ones—thanks to the terrifying strength of its cultivators.

It seems the Azure Feather Sect truly has its roots deep in the Divine Land, Yue Xin thought, gaze locked on Tian Lei as he cut down the last bandit.

"Tell me—are there more of you?" Tian Lei asked, eyes narrowing at the bandit leader.

The man’s face went pale. He shook his head desperately. Yet Tian Lei saw the flicker of deceit and pressed him harder. The bandit leader broke down in tears, swearing, but Tian Lei read his body clearly—saw the subtle motion of qi, the twitch of hidden killing intent.

The instant the man tried to strike, Tian Lei’s sword flashed. His head rolled before the blade even fully returned to its sheath.

"No more lies," Tian Lei said coldly, stepping past the corpse as the remaining bandits collapsed in fear.

This time, Tian Lei didn’t bother with words. His soul sense spread like a storm, forcefully prying into the mind of the last surviving bandit. The man convulsed, screaming in agony as if his very soul was being split apart.

Within moments, Tian Lei extracted what he needed—faces, hideouts, trails of blood money. His eyes narrowed. So, there are no others left... this band of flower-thieving rats has finally reached its end.

The bandit collapsed, lifeless, his body twitching once before going still.

Tian Lei exhaled slowly, his presence heavy and unshakable. Around him, the atmosphere felt suffocating—an invisible decree that none should stand against him. The bandits who had once spread terror were no more.

From behind, Yue Xin, Lin Yao, and even the shaken City Lord looked at him in stunned silence. What had started as a desperate struggle ended with a single man wiping out an entire group.

The Flower-Thieving Bandit Group, a name that once instilled fear, had been annihilated in one night.

The City Lord, still pale from the ordeal, stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Senior Tian Lei... you have my eternal gratitude. You didn’t just destroy those fiends—you saved my daughter’s life. For that, I owe you a debt that can never be repaid."

At his side, Yue Xin also clasped her hands together, her eyes bright with sincerity. "Tian Lei... thank you. Truly."

The City Lord gave a small nod toward Lin Yao. She responded with a bow, her silver storage ring flashing faintly before a lacquered box appeared in her hands. With steady care, she opened it.

Inside lay a blade. Its edge glimmered with a dark, unsettling light, like blood crystallized under moonlight. The faint aura of malice clung to it, alive yet restrained.

"The Blood Abyss," Lin Yao explained. "Our caravan acquired it several months ago, but none among us could wield it. It is not merely a sword—it is an ancient ranked weapon. Forged from the cursed rose that blooms only amidst despair."

The City Lord inhaled softly, then turned to Tian Lei. "We would entrust this sword to you."

Tian Lei’s brows lowered. "Why?"

The woman bit her lip, her gaze flickering to her daughter, Yue Xin. The girl hesitated, but at her mother’s urging, she gave a small nod. Slowly, the she raised her hand to her face. The mask she always wore—red and unyielding—slid free.

Beneath it was a countenance so devastatingly flawless that even Tian Lei—whose heart had long been tempered in slaughter and storms—felt the weight of silence crush his breath.

Her skin was pale as fresh-fallen snow, aglow with a faint, ethereal luster, as though moonlight itself lingered upon her. Each delicate curve of her face seemed carved by the hands of gods—soft yet sharp, fragile yet unyielding. Her lips bore a hue like rose petals steeped in dawn’s first light, poised between sorrow and allure.

But it was her eyes that bound him most mercilessly—vast pools of liquid obsidian, glimmering with secrets too heavy for mortal hearts. They carried centuries of quiet despair, but also the glint of unshattered resolve, the kind of gaze that could make a man kneel without command.

Her beauty was not merely seen—it was felt. It pressed against Tian Lei’s chest like an ache, a splendor so vivid it bordered on cruelty, as though heaven had placed perfection before him only to remind him of his own impermanence.

For the first time in years, Tian Lei realized he was staring. And for the first time in longer still, he could not tear his eyes away.

It was entirely different from his master. She attracted him through her physical charm, but with Yue Xin, it was something else altogether. It felt like seeing your first crush—that was how Tian Lei was feeling.

What the fuck? He hurriedly snapped out of it. She must have a charm-related physique too, he thought inwardly.