FRGNM -Chapter 292 Resentment

With a flick of his right hand, blue-violet Dou Qi burst forth. Tang Ming slashed his hand forward, and the flying sword spun violently, chopping toward Ling Ruoxi. He was fast—but Luo Mingyu was even faster.

Killing light flared in his eyes. “Don’t you dare!”

His icy voice filled the room, as though it were about to freeze solid.

Black Dou Qi instantly wrapped around Ling Ruoxi, but—at that very moment—the flying sword abruptly changed direction, shooting toward the person on the bed at an even faster speed.

Not good!

Luo Mingyu’s face darkened. The Dou Qi in his left hand surged toward the bed, but the instant he loosened his hold—when the black Dou Qi withdrew—a second flying sword shot out from the first, streaking straight toward the now-exposed Ling Ruoxi.

“Pfft!”

The blade burst from its sheath and stabbed viciously into her left shoulder. Black Dou Qi rushed to envelop Ming Lang, sparing him from the sword strike—but everyone standing nearby spat out mouthfuls of blood.

The energy of the Zizhu exploded outward, spreading from Ming Lang as the center.

“Boom!”

The entire inn shook violently. Everything in the room shattered in an instant as a terrifying force blasted outward.

“Ming Lang!”

Purple eyes locked onto the boy. A flash of blood-red killing intent surged forth as Jiang Yu—wrapped by the four Zizhu—suddenly turned around. Bathed in purple light, his body transformed directly into a Zizhu.

The figure on the bed spat out a mouthful of blood. His long lashes trembled faintly, and his small fingers twitched ever so slightly.

“My heavens—what happened?!”

“The inn’s about to collapse!”

“Mother of mercy—are Dou Qi masters fighting?!”

Below, the onlookers were utterly stunned, their eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. With the inn on the verge of collapsing, it had to be a battle between Dou Qi masters!

“Cough… cough…”

Blood kept spilling from her mouth as Ling Ruoxi forced herself upright and looked around the ruined room. There had only been one last step left. With her six senses sealed, her Dou Qi had already entered Ming Lang’s body, cleansing his meridians.

But that sudden sword strike had pierced her body.

Just one more step… and yet—

She failed.

Panting heavily, Ling Ruoxi summoned the five Zizhu back like lightning and stored them in her spatial ring. With one hand clutching her left shoulder, she pulled the sword from her body.

“What happened?!” Tang Ming’s face changed drastically as he brushed away dust, staring in shock.

The entire room had been destroyed. Everyone lay injured, and Ming Lang—across from them—no longer had any trace of breath.

Cold, bone-chilling killing intent filled the air. Every gaze locked onto Tang Ming, as if they wanted to tear him apart alive.

Under overwhelming shock, Jiang Yu lost control of his spiritual energy and turned directly into a Zizhu. Ming Lang—because the final step had failed—was dead.

They were gravely injured. He… was gone.

Even the Zizhu, depleted of spiritual energy, had grown dull, its luster fading—alive, yet without spirit, sealing itself off completely.

“You deserve to die.”

Icy killing intent erupted as a figure slowly stood up and walked forward.

Tang Ming’s face sank. Gripping his sword tightly, he sneered, “Die? Hah—you’re all badly injured. What can you possibly—”

“Slash!”

A black scythe streaked past with a flash of bloodlight. A white-clad figure appeared behind him, standing indifferently as the wind lifted his long hair. His cold eyes stared ahead, Blood Demon Scythe in his right hand, calm as drifting clouds.

Glancing faintly at the man behind him, he said coldly,
“Your greatest mistake… was hurting her.”

“Bang!”

Tang Ming’s expression twisted in horror. His black pupils shrank violently.

Impossible…

He had never imagined that the man standing before him would be this person.

The one more terrifying than demons and gods themselves.

And he had appeared here—for a woman.

If Tang Ming had known the Evil King was here, how could he have come seeking death?

The green figure exploded apart—but black energy instantly engulfed him, erasing him completely from existence.

The man turned his head toward Ling Ruoxi, forcibly suppressing the aura within his body. He strode forward and caught her in his arms, frowning.

“How did it end up like this? Hurry—treat yourself.”

“No—check on Ming Lang first. I’m fine!” Ling Ruoxi insisted. This wound was nothing. The sword had pierced her left shoulder, not her heart—she only needed to stop the bleeding.

Yuwen Zhiyuan was already seated by the bed, fingers pressed to Ming Lang’s pulse. Sorrow flickered in his dark eyes as he sighed softly.

“It’s too late. His life force is gone.”

“…”
Standing by the bed, Ling Ruoxi clutched her shoulder and stared at the boy lying there. She took a sharp breath and reached out, touching Ming Lang’s cheek.

He was only about ten years old—and yet his life had already ended.

Even with Zizhu energy cleansing his body, she could drive out the virus—but she couldn’t save him at the final moment.

What a heartbreaking thing.

“He’s gone,” Silver Wolf said quietly. Ming Lang’s aura had vanished completely—he would never wake again.

Ling Ruoxi raised her hand. The dim Zizhu appeared in her palm, lifeless, its purple glow faint—energy without spirit.

Luo Mingyu pressed a hand gently to her head and shook his own.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“But if I’d been just a bit faster—Ming Lang…” Ling Ruoxi frowned, reaching toward him again—

And froze.

Her hand shot out, gripping Ming Lang’s arm as she sensed a pulse.

Yuwen Zhiyuan’s face changed drastically. Cold light flashed in his eyes as he inhaled sharply.

“This is impossible—he was dead! How does he have a pulse and heartbeat?!”

“What? Let me see!” Qingyi rushed forward, reaching for Ming Lang’s arm—

But the small hand was faster.

Like lightning, Ming Lang’s hand clamped around Qingyi’s wrist. Cold fury erupted in his gaze as he stared up and roared,

“Get lost!”

“Ming Lang—you’re alive! But your aura… it’s changed…” Silver Wolf exclaimed, then sucked in a sharp breath.

The boy who sat up no longer looked anything like Ming Lang. His eyes were cold and emotionless, icy light flashing within them. Qingyi—a Purple Venerable—couldn’t break free from the grip at all.

His Dou Qi felt frozen, unable to move.

“What’s going on?” Qingyi said grimly, pressing his left hand to Ming Lang’s wrist. “Let go!”

“I told you—get out of the way!”

The icy voice echoed. Ming Lang released him, purple Dou Qi erupting from his body. Grabbing a sword nearby, he stepped forward and leapt straight out the window.

“Not good—after him!” Qingyi shouted, clutching his wrist. Five clear finger marks were imprinted on his arm.

Silver Wolf swallowed hard, staring in shock at the direction Ming Lang had gone.

“What’s happening? He woke up like a completely different person!”

“He didn’t change into someone else,” Luo Mingyu said quietly, arm around Ling Ruoxi’s waist. “He is someone else. Haven’t you noticed? His aura is identical to that Zizhu.”

Cold light flashed in his eyes.

“At this moment… he’s probably on his way to destroy the entire Tang family trading house.”

Meanwhile, at the trading grounds, Tang Ze lounged comfortably in a wicker chair, imagining how their old ancestor would “persuade” those youngsters.

After all, the old ancestor was nearly a Purple Venerable—even alchemists had to give him face.

“Father, the old ancestor’s been gone a long time. Aren’t you worried?” Tang Xin asked anxiously. She couldn’t shake the unease in her heart.

Tang Ze yawned and waved it off. “What’s there to worry about? The old ancestor’s nearly Purple Venerable. You think those brats could hurt him? Relax. Nine hundred billion—do you think we can just hand that over?”

“But—”

Tang Ze slammed the armrest and barked, “Enough ‘buts’! If you hadn’t caused all this trouble, would we be here now? Don’t worry—once the old ancestor steps in, nothing will happen!”

“Father!” Tang Xin snapped, then turned and ran outside.

Her instincts screamed danger. Those people were not ordinary—maybe even the old ancestor couldn’t handle them.

Tang Ze never imagined his ancestor would be instantly killed. Tang Xin leaving might have been the Tang family’s last surviving bloodline.

Sipping tea, he reclined again, half-closing his eyes. Perfect weather for resting. After this matter, they’d stop—no more dealings.

“Everyone inside—get out here!”

A furious roar thundered like an enraged lion. A figure holding a sword stood in the air, purple Dou Qi surging around him like a massive dragon.

Rage burned in his eyes. In an instant, eerie purple pupils appeared.

Below, the crowd gasped in shock.

“A Purple Venerable?! Since when can kids become Purple Venerables?!”

“My heavens—what am I seeing? Kill me now! How old is this kid?!”

“I recognize him! Didn’t he live in a ruined temple with a middle-aged man? He used to get beaten all the time!”

“Right! He is familiar! Wasn’t he the one who snatched Zizhu a few days ago? Did he absorb it?”

Even swallowing a hundred Zizhu could never push someone to Purple Venerable.

The crowd stared upward, utterly dumbfounded.