Chapter Seventeen
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Chutian He stood clad in the Nine-Star Silver Dragon Battle Armor, its silvery brilliance dazzling under the sunlight, as if the God-King of heaven and earth had descended upon the mortal realm. At his waist, the Blade of Ten Thousand Gods had already been drawn; blood trickled down its edge. Where the sword pointed, its aura devoured the world like a tiger; where the blade swept, mountains and rivers shattered across a thousand miles.
Behind Chutian He, the Twelve Celestial Fiends of the Hall of Ten Thousand Gods lined up in formation, murderous intent rising to the heavens, like twelve wild dragons entering the world, looking down upon the earth with disdain.
In an instant, a mighty pressure surged forth, like stormy waves swallowing everything.
“Aunt, I’ve come to take you and Xiaomeng away.”
With the might of a single blade, he stunned all present. The assassins of the Rakshasa Group watched as Chutian He, armored and sword in hand, stepped toward Qin Xiaomeng and Yang Huijuan. Fear filled their eyes; not one dared approach to block his way. Driven by terror, they all involuntarily retreated several steps.
“Tian He, is it really you?”
“Good child, you’ve finally returned.”
“Xiaorou was right about you. She said you’d make something of yourself in the army!”
“It’s good you’re back, but Xiaorou, she…”
Seeing Chutian He, Yang Huijuan’s voice choked; her nose tingled, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. The poor boy of yesterday now stood draped in armor, radiant with glory—a sight so bold and grand. If only Xiaorou were still here; how happy she would be to witness this moment.
Yang Huijuan wept bitterly, her sobs torn from her heart.
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She was a simple, honest woman. Though married into the Qin family, she was never one of those who cared only for status. From the very beginning, Yang Huijuan never looked down on Chutian He; even when he was a boy so poor he struggled for his next meal, she never showed the slightest dissatisfaction, but instead cared for him greatly.
This kindness, Chutian He remembered well, and dared not forget.
When he was destitute and ridiculed, Aunt Yang protected him like a mother would, always standing up for him—even when she became the target of gossip and scorn, she only smiled and never treated him poorly.
She was among the rare few who believed Chutian He would someday rise above his circumstances.
As Yang Huijuan often said, “If my eldest daughter chose him, he can’t be that bad. Chutian He may be poor, but his character is sound—he’s not lazy or greedy. It’s just bad luck, that’s all. One day, he’ll make it.”
And today, that day had finally come.
“Aunt, you and Xiaomeng get in the car first. Leave everything else to me.”
Like the filial crow returning to feed its mother, grateful and repaying kindness, Chutian He, armored and sword at his side, stepped forward and gently helped Yang Huijuan toward the black business car, under the stunned gazes of all around.
The Twelve Celestial Fiends saw this and all showed respectful expressions, not daring any negligence. Tianjiu had already opened the car door, welcoming Qin Xiaomeng and her mother inside with utmost deference.
Bang!
As the door closed, Chutian He suddenly turned, his eyes flashing with chilling, terrifying killing intent, gaze locked directly upon Lyu Liang.
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“So, you are Lyu Liang?”
Chutian He spoke coldly, every word steeped in murderous intent. The Blade of Ten Thousand Gods in his hand slowly rose.
“Yes, I am Lyu Liang. And who are you?” Lyu Liang’s face was grim, his eyes narrowing as his sinister gaze fixed sharply upon Chutian He.
Though the power of Chutian He’s earlier strike had left Lyu Liang shaken and fearful, he still felt he had a chance to fight.
For behind Chutian He stood only twelve men, while Lyu Liang commanded over a thousand killers, with the support of the Rakshasa Group. As long as he could stall Chutian He, reinforcements could be called from other cities. Even if Chutian He was strong, against overwhelming numbers, he might not prevail.
After all, a man’s stamina has its limits. Though Lyu Liang sensed Chutian He’s strength, he showed no sign of backing down.
Swish!
Yet, as soon as he finished speaking, a flash of cold light streaked past!
Once the identity was confirmed, Chutian He hesitated not an instant. The blade in his hand swept down, ancient martial energy sharpening into a cold gleam, shooting forth like a meteor, cleaving through several meters straight for Lyu Liang’s brow!