"Now, the outside world is no longer suitable for us. Therefore, our family has decided that we should return. But," Lans gazed at Ye Han's expression, feeling a sense of joy in his heart. Yet, as a member of the clan, he couldn't simply ignore the family's decision.
"No need to say more, leaving might be for the best." Ye Han interrupted Lans, not a man of sentimentality, but one of decisive action. Slowly, two essence blood droplets emerged from his chest. As they appeared, a rich scent of blood followed suit.
The middle-aged man beside Lans and Sherry instantly released his fighting spirit to protect them, casting a chilling glance at Ye Han, his sword radiating a cold light.
"Don't!" Lans hurriedly intervened, trusting in Ye Han.
In the air, the two droplets of essence blood, under Ye Han's control, slowly condensed into two dark red crystals. Looking at Lans and Sherry, he said, "Each of you take one. They represent my life and death. As long as I live, they will remain intact. If I die, they will shatter." The two dark red crystals slowly floated out of the range of the fighting spirit.
Without hesitation, Lans and Sherry stepped out of the protective range of the fighting spirit and each took a crystal. "Additionally, if you find yourselves in danger, infuse it with your fighting spirit. No matter how far away I am, I will sense it, unless I am not on this continent. But, it can only be used once."
Lans and Sherry nodded in understanding, not uttering a word. They knew the situation in Myatt City and understood Ye Han's approach. In a world where everyone was an enemy, finding two people who understood them was rare. As they left, they carried with them this final token of trust.
Friendship, brotherhood, sometimes it's just that simple. No need for extra words or actions, not based on any benefit. Just sincere understanding between two people is enough.
In life, one doesn't need much. Just one or two people who truly understand you is enough.
Life is solitary.
Zombies, too, possess eternal life and perpetual youth, yet are enveloped in loneliness. In their long years, only killing prevails.
As dusk approached, Lans and Sherry, the siblings, had already departed. In the ruined mansion, only Xiaoya and Ye Han stood quietly. The gentle breeze blew, and the golden afterglow scattered over the earth, making Ye Han seem out of place in his surroundings.
"Xiaoya, you should return to the Doomsday Prison first. It's not safe outside." Lans's departure filled Ye Han with a sense of loss. Who could understand the solitude of living two lifetimes?
"Okay." Obedient Xiaoya walked to Ye Han's side, gently taking his hand. Under the golden afterglow, their shadows stretched long and far.
Reluctantly, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the moon slowly revealed its beautiful face.
"The night has arrived." In the ruins, a cold voice seemed to be speaking to the moon, or perhaps to the entire city of Myatt.
Under the cover of night, a shadow swiftly moved through the quiet, empty streets. Using his powerful soul sensing, Ye Han navigated through Myatt City like a maze, as if everything around him ceased to exist.
Ye Han quickly arrived at a civilian area, focusing on the largest courtyard in the center before swiftly approaching. Although he didn't care much for worldly affairs, he was aware of certain powers. Since the massacre of over sixty members of the Church of Light, they had moved all their personnel into Myatt City for safety.
They were discreet, opting for a few larger courtyards in the civilian area instead of hotels, arranging their people inside.
The courtyard before Ye Han was one of the Church of Light's bases, housing fifty people. He burst through the door, which shattered under his immense internal strength. Inside the yard and the house, no one made a sound, but their weapons were already in hand.
Without a word, his short sword, under the moonlight, reflected no light, merging with the night, its outline barely discernible.
Shadowy figures flashed past each swordsman and mage, the sound of sharp blades cutting through objects filled the air. He didn't use any martial techniques, relying solely on his almost point-like speed to take away lives.
There was no mercy, nothing at all. The blood, under the moonlight, seemed eerily beautiful.
All they could see were Ye Han's afterimages, unable to discern his true form. Despite being terrified by his eerie speed, they viciously attacked the deceptive afterimages, but all in vain.
As the slaughter continued, the black afterimages gradually showed hints of blood red. His grey eyes, moving at extreme speed, almost formed a straight line.
At that moment, Ye Han, with a calm face that sent shivers down the spine, occasionally let out inexplicable laughter amid his movement. Killing, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time, felt wonderfully intoxicating to him.
Blood replaced the shadows. The thick scent of blood wafted through the courtyard, unclear whether it emanated from the blood on the ground or from the bloodied figure.
Ye Han had become a true Asura from hell, a Blood Asura. Everything was for the sake of slaughter, born from blood. No one could stop his murderous stride.
"Boom!"
Thunder rumbled in the sky, as if the benevolent moon refused to witness the slaughter below and hid behind the clouds, withdrawing its guiding light.
The night grew even darker, with only the blood-red figure moving, as if telling the hidden moon that the killing continued.
In the pitch-black night, when the last mage of the Church of Light lay down with wide, disbelieving eyes, all fifty knights and mages of the Church of Light perished in the dark night.
It all happened in a very short time. No powerful attacks, no grand magic collisions. Fifty people just quietly died. Blood pooled into a small stream, flowing towards the only standing figure in the courtyard.
Basking in the pleasure brought by blood, enjoying the wonderful sensation of slaughter, Ye Han's red light grew increasingly intense, eventually bathing the entire dark courtyard in a bloody hue.
"Next place," he muttered, disappearing from the dark courtyard, leaving behind a ground littered with corpses.
"Boom!"
A heavy rain began to fall, pattering on the lifeless bodies of the fifty Church of Light members, as if even the heavens wept for their deaths.
At the Empire of Flame Dragon's station, no longer in a civilian area but in a small tavern. Everyone was either dreaming or deep in meditation, unaware of the almost imperceptible shadow.
Outside, the heavy rain continued, and thunder roared as if trying to awaken the sleeping people, warning them of the Blood Asura's arrival.
The silent killing spread quietly throughout the tavern, sparing no one. The roaring thunder and pouring rain seemed to condemn Ye Han's actions, denouncing the lives unjustly taken by him.
The silence of the tavern contrasted sharply with the roaring thunder outside. Occasional faint sounds were quickly drowned out by the thunder. Like a ghost, the red figure moved rapidly through the tavern.
"Who's there?" Just as Ye Han was about to enter the last room, someone detected his presence. Instead of an alarmed shout, the voice was calm and collected.
"Your reaper," Ye Han's cold voice appeared inside the room, its source indiscernible.
"Quite the bold claim."
"Is it?" A faint shadow flashed through the space, clashing with a longsword in a "clang," then disappeared into the night.
"Interesting, you can actually detect my attack."
"Hmph," the person in the room coldly snorted, but their heart trembled. The silent strike just now would have been fatal if they hadn't been covering the room with their mental power, detecting the energy flow stirred up by the short sword. Even now, they couldn't pinpoint where Ye Han was hiding.
It was surprising for anyone to detect Ye Han. To avoid prematurely alerting the saint-level powerhouses, he had been using evasion techniques to move through the rooms. Ye Han targeted locations where the guards of various powers were stationed, as key members of these powers would not stay in such taverns.
"Are you ready?" The sudden voice startled the person in the room, who knew the upcoming attack would be even harder to defend against.
Vigilantly scanning the surroundings, a blood-red figure gradually emerged from the wall, the pungent scent of blood hitting them. The middle-aged person, reeling from the nauseating blood scent, stared in horror at the crimson figure.
"Clang," they blocked the short sword again, but before they could rejoice, a chilling sensation pierced their chest.
The person in the room turned incredulously, only to see a head of snow-white hair. Their throat convulsed violently. "Is... is it you?"
Watching the body collapse to the ground, blood flowing from the chest, it seemed to defy gravity, flowing upward instead.