643 Provisions (1/2)

”It's too bad. I did give you a chance.”

Ye Qingxuan sighed and pressed his hand against Larbin's veiny forehead, ”Don't worry, I will pass on the core theories of the Steel Heart School for you.”

After he finished speaking, Larbin gave a wretched cry.

In less than half a minute he had already lost. The musicians who had rushed here did not even have time to intervene. They could only watch helplessly as Ye Qingxuan cruelly kept him alive, draining every bit of music out of him piece by piece before he expired.

It was like his tendons were being peeled off his bones. He screamed as the pain dug deeper in, inch by inch. His blood became hotter and hotter, and his forehead swelled.

Finally, Ye Qingxuan leisurely pulled the last little bit of music out of him, trapping it within the Staff of Fate. He let go of Larbin, who fell limply to the floor.

Although some breath still passed through his lips, the spark was gone from his eyes.

The Symphony of Predestination was the condensation of all of a musician's lifeforce. Stripping the core music from their body was like taking away their soul. Hot blood had thoroughly destroyed his brain.

Larbin was already dead, those faint breaths of his would not last long.

Ye Qingxuan waved his hand and a wisp of moonlight transformed into a flame. It descended upon Larbin's body, burning him to ashes.

There was a trace of regret in everyone's eyes, and a trace of relief.

Ye Qingxuan had not left the dead man's Symphony of Predestination in the Ultimate. Thus, he had not received the Ultimate's blessing. Otherwise, he would have regained the level of Master, and would be difficult to deal with.

Even so, of the few Masters who began to cautiously edge forward, there was not one who was willing to take the lead.

After all, this was the Hand of God...

Ye Qingxuan, the savior of the nation, the deputy ruler of the Anglo Kingdom, the Prince of Avalon, Captain of the Inquisition...even though he had fallen so far, there was no telling what tricks someone like him might still have up his sleeve.

If they rushed in hastily they might end up like Larbin there.

Far away, Raymond's silhouette appeared at the end of the road, still bringing the old nun behind him. Upon seeing Ye Qingxuan's condition, there was a flash of intention in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak.

But he quickly closed it, not issuing any orders.

He looked at Ye Qingxuan unwillingly, then turned around and carried the old nun away.

There was no point in getting involved.

There were already enough people who wanted Ye Qingxuan's life.

-

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Merely twenty minutes later a beam of light screamed down from the sky.

Flames rose amid the roar, and they transformed into a sinister old man. He stopped in front of Yuan Jing.

”White hair, young...”

He looked coldly at his stunned opponent and laughed strangely. ”It looks like you are indeed Ye Qingxuan. There's no excuse for the strong preying on the week, but there are those who want you dead, demon. This is your unlucky day!”

The young man raised his eyebrows, seeming confused.

Bang!

A frightful wave swept out from his body, as the elements of a Scepter began to rise slowly.

”I know you won't believe this, but buddy, you've got the wrong guy.”

The white-haired young man sighed and gripped the longsword at his waist. ”But since you've challenged me, if I refuse to fight you and turn away my grandfather will surely throw me into a molten lake as punishment.”

Upon hearing the sonorous echo of the sword being pulled from its scabbard, the Scepter was shocked. ”Even though it feels a bit strange to cross swords with you for no reason, I'd still like to know your name before we fight.”

”Yuan Jing,” said the young man with the sword, ”'Jing' like in 'Jing Ji'.”

In that instant, the sword cried out ”Jing Ji”.

There was a ghostly ringing in the distant darkness, like footsteps echoing out in all directions. It was difficult to tell whether or not the sound was real, but it was clear and frightening all the same.

The Sword of Jing Ji was unsheathed.

Eldest Brother Yuan He's sword ”Wen Lin” had been drawn by Yuan Jing. It was no longer the sword of an upright and just man, but carried with it a bitter cold, majestic killing power, and a sound like a ringing bell.

In Yuan Jing's hands the sword emitted a faint light, stinging the old man's eyes.

”They Symphony of the Jing Ji Sword” began to change, with intermittent flashes of music spreading out from the sword, each one peerless in its majesty. They resonated with the old man's Scepter, which began to disturb the elements.

In front of that blade, the Scepter seemed like the moon reflected in a mirror, or a flower reflected in water, ethereal and illusory.

The old man's expression changed.

”Wait...”

”Too late.”

Yuan Jing raised his sword without expression, and cocked an eyebrow, ”I can't control my brother's sword. You shoddy imitation of a Scepter, how dare you act so brazen before it. This is your unlucky day demon!”

As he repeated the old man's words back to him, the careless and lazy young man stopped smiling, and became as cold as iron.

The sword's light reflected off the black abysses of his eyes.