"Hand over the items, and we might consider sparing your life and that of your friends," the man with the horse-like face said coldly.
"Friends!? What about my three companions? What have you done to them?" Yan Huo asked urgently.
"Hehe, they're probably still alive for now. If they hadn't resisted, they wouldn't have suffered so much, but what's the point of resisting?" The man with the horse face smiled sinisterly.
"They're still alive!?" Yan Huo's heart calmed a little upon hearing this. He couldn't help but let out a wild laugh. "Haha! What if I don't hand them over?"
"Don't hand them over? Hmph! Don't think we won't make you regret it," the man with one ear sneered, and with a flick of his hand, dozens of black-clad men armed with military crossbows appeared, surrounding Yan Huo tightly.
Yan Huo didn't even glance at the black-clad men around him, not giving them a second thought. His mind suddenly recalled something extremely important.
"Did you really kill every Daoist in this temple?" he demanded, his voice seething with fury.
"Shouldn't have missed anyone. Even that little Daoist who could've hidden in the back mountain came out to die. What a pity," the man with the horse face turned to complain to the man with one ear. "What was his name again? If he had stayed hidden, he wouldn't have died, but he insisted on coming out for revenge. What a waste. Hehehe..."
"Back mountain... little Daoist... shattered into pieces... no worries... ruined my clothes!" Yan Huo's mind exploded with realization. The person who had died was his close friend, Zhang Feng. The blow struck Yan Huo's heart like a thunderclap. Zhang Feng was like family to him.
The warning from the venerable Master Chongyang about not making enemies now seemed like distant echoes, drowned out by the fiery anger that consumed him. Any thoughts of retreat and reconciliation had been burned away by the inferno in his heart. The only thing that mattered now was one word—*kill*. His eyes burned red with rage, a chilling sign of his loss of control.
Yan Huo's cultivation core, the *Nine-Five Golden Core*, began to spin within his dantian, rapidly accelerating. The surrounding spiritual energy from Mount Yan surged into his body like a wild storm, the vast flow of Qi visibly surrounding him. Even mortals could see the ethereal white light enveloping him, within which was a faint golden glow.
"AHHHHHH!" Yan Huo let out a roar that could shake the heavens and earth, causing the mountains to tremble and the ground to quake, with dust swirling around him.
The over a hundred black-clad men surrounding him instantly fell to the ground in disarray, unable to withstand the surge of energy.
"Controlling Qi to injure others!!" the man with the horse-like face exclaimed in shock. He hadn't expected the unremarkable young man in front of him to possess such overwhelming strength. But what shocked him even more was what came next.
"Why are you standing there!? Fire! Shoot!" the man with one ear, Li Dao, ordered. His men raised their crossbows, each capable of shooting five bolts in rapid succession. At a range of two hundred meters, these crossbows were deadly weapons, designed to pierce through the human body.
Now surrounded by hundreds of black-clad men with these crossbows, Li Dao didn't believe any martial artist, no matter how skilled, could avoid the barrage of thousands of bolts.
Yan Huo sneered coldly, his voice dripping with contempt. "You have arrows, but I have needles. *Thousand Bee Needles*!"
A barrage of needles flew outward, scattering in all directions. The speed of the crossbows might be fast, but could they be faster than the *Thousand Bee Needles*? No, they couldn't. The power of the crossbows might be great, but could they overpower the *Thousand Bee Needles*? Absolutely not.
Yan Huo was now unleashing the full power of his cultivation at the peak of the Dao Solidification Stage. Every needle was aimed with deadly precision, piercing through the first black-clad man and continuing into the next, leaving a series of holes in their bodies. He made sure that the needles never stopped, never faltered. If they pierced through one person, they would continue onto the next. Now, even a mountain couldn't stop them—they would pierce it with a thousand holes.
Most of the black-clad men who had managed to dodge the *Thousand Bee Needles* were tragically killed by friendly fire from the military crossbows. The deadly projectiles from their own comrades shot through them, and the constant barrage of arrows was unavoidable. The cries of agony echoed throughout the area, and the air was thick with the stench of blood and carnage. Body parts were strewn across the ground, indistinguishable from one another—what once were human beings had now become nothing more than piles of flesh. The blood-soaked scene was incomprehensible to the mind.
But still, the needles didn't stop, their endless rotation piercing through the mass of dead and dying. For Yan Huo, it seemed as though time had slowed. His eyes, empty and void of emotion, fixed upon the two terrified men in front of him. His gaze wasn't that of a man watching another, but rather as though he were staring at two more heaps of meat, already dead in his eyes. They were no longer worth a second glance. The only reason they were still alive was because Yan Huo had questions to ask, and once those were answered, their deaths were inevitable.
Li Dao and Ma Xiao had killed countless people in their lives, but nothing they had done could compare to what they saw now. Yan Huo's massacre wasn't that of a mere mortal—it was more like the work of a divine being. They could no longer comprehend whether the weapons he wielded were still considered weapons. To him, the slaughter was as easy as chopping vegetables, and it was more than just a fight—it was a demonstration of raw, unimaginable power.
They stood frozen in shock and disgust. Yet, they had no time to process their emotions. The realization hit them hard—what they were about to face wasn't just a man, but a god. They finally understood what had happened to Hong Liu, the one who had mysteriously vanished. But by then, it was too late to turn back.
It wasn't just the *Thousand Bee Needles* coming their way—death itself was following behind them.
Li Dao and Ma Xiao snapped out of their fear and exchanged a glance, both making a desperate attempt to flee in opposite directions. "In times of great danger, whether we survive depends on luck," they both thought, a sense of helplessness washing over them.
"Hmph! Want to escape?" Yan Huo sneered coldly.
Just ten meters into Ma Xiao's flight, he was stopped by a figure that appeared out of nowhere in front of him.
"It's over," Ma Xiao thought, despair filling his heart.
In his final moments, Ma Xiao resolved to fight back with everything he had. Despite his skill in martial arts, he wasn't one to rely on weapons, but his beloved sword was always by his side. He drew it now, a treasure sword forged to cut through iron like mud, and executed his ultimate move—the legendary *Mei Mountain Sword Style*.
"Mei opens nine times!" He leaped forward through the air, wielding the sword with deadly precision. In the blink of an eye, nine sword strikes landed in quick succession, forming a series of floral arcs, each with nine sharp points. He believed that even if he couldn't injure Yan Huo, his movements would at least force the opponent to evade, giving him the chance to escape.
The sword strikes, infused with a deadly energy, bloomed in the air like a sea of falling plum blossoms, rushing toward Yan Huo.
But at that moment, Yan Huo made no attempt to evade.
Instead, Yan Huo raised his right hand, which had previously been empty. In an instant, a mysterious sword materialized out of nowhere in his grasp.
Ma Xiao's heart skipped a beat. "Where did that sword come from?"
"Clang!" Yan Huo's sword swung through the air.
With a single strike, everything seemed to freeze. The sword flowers, symbolic of Ma Xiao's ultimate technique, vanished in the air, completely obliterated.
Yan Huo descended from the air, and with him fell the broken sword, along with two severed halves of a body. The sword in Yan Huo's hand had no blood on it, and as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared from his grasp without a trace.