Chapter Forty-Seven: The Deathsworn

"I have three questions," Ye Xin said calmly. "If you can give me reasonable answers, I'll turn around and leave, never disturbing you again."

The burly middle-aged man chuckled, watching Ye Xin with an ambiguous expression.

"My first question: I know Zong Bieli has thirty-eight devoted warriors under him, but I've heard that during the battle at Ze Mountain, many of them died to help the Zong family escape from the Great Chen Kingdom. Including you, how many of Zong Bieli's warriors are left?"

The middle-aged man's face turned ashen; he could not have imagined that this man in black robes knew their origins.

"My second question: Zong Bieli isn't dead, is he? He's right here in Nine Cauldrons City?" Ye Xin asked, enunciating each word.

The middle-aged man could no longer bear to listen. Every word Ye Xin spoke was like a death knell to him.

"Kill him!" the man bellowed, charging at Ye Xin. He had barely rushed a few meters when his pace suddenly slowed. As the old man's long sleeve flickered with sword light, sweeping toward Ye Xin's back, the burly man abruptly accelerated.

"I know the answer now," Ye Xin smiled. The sword light was already upon him, less than a foot away. Ye Xin suddenly pitched forward, his timing and speed impeccable—it looked as though he had been blown down by the sword, so close that he could have been pierced, yet the blade could not touch him.

The old man's wrist twisted rapidly, and the two flexible swords shimmered with ever-denser light. Suddenly, as Ye Xin fell forward and vanished from view, before the old man could react, Ye Xin propped himself up with one hand on the ground, and his legs scissored backward like iron whips.

Bang! Bang! Ye Xin's feet struck the old man's knees like lightning, twisting them grotesquely and sending his body tumbling forward uncontrollably.

In the next instant, Ye Xin's right leg shot upward, cutting through the chaotic sword light to strike the old man's chest.

A roar resounded as the old man let out a shrill scream, flying backward and crashing into the tofu workshop. He lay silent thereafter.

"Die!" The burly man leaped at Ye Xin, a faint shadow drifting from his body, coalescing into a barely visible giant bear.

Ye Xin pressed down with his hand and sprang up, just as the man's right fist, wrapped in a terrifying wind, slammed toward Ye Xin's chest.

To cultivate a bear-type innate skill, whatever the breed, meant relying on sheer strength. With Ye Xin's experience, he should have dodged, but he only flashed a wicked smile and met the punch head-on.

Boom! The shockwave rippled out from the collision of their fists. Ye Xin slid backward more than ten meters as if on ice, while the burly man staggered, retreating several steps. He tried to attack again, but suddenly found his internal energy uncontrollable, as if sliced by knives.

"You... Wolf Strength? Who are you?" the man paused, then roared.

"My third question: Why are you watching the Ye family? Why marry Zong Ying into it?" Ye Xin said, rubbing his wrist leisurely. "But I already know the answer... Over the years, many warriors have died under Wolf Strength, but none ever recognized my innate skill—they only thought my punches were unusually fierce. Only you saw through it at a glance."

The middle-aged man said nothing, struggling to steady his breath.

"Your target is the Wolf Art, isn't it? Otherwise, you couldn't know about Wolf Strength." Ye Xin smiled. "A clever plan, but unfortunately... you've chosen the wrong opponent."

The man roared again, launching himself at Ye Xin, his large fist hurtling toward Ye Xin's face.

"Still unwilling to give up?" Ye Xin laughed. The Ye family's Wolf Strength could cause a peculiar resonance in internal energy, producing two very different effects.

If the target was a friend, Wolf Strength could refine their energy channels, doubling their cultivation efficiency. If it was an enemy, Wolf Strength would disrupt their channels, causing a numbing effect—unable to circulate energy. Though brief and limited, it was enough to determine life and death among warriors of the same level.

Yet, no innate skill in the world is perfect, and the Wolf Art was no exception. Ye Xin had to strike his opponent's body with his fists to transmit Wolf Strength. Against other high-level innate warriors, Ye Xin was nearly invincible; but against the top-tier Pillar State warriors, the power of Wolf Strength diminished greatly.

Ye Guan Hai in his day was a Pillar State warrior. Yet, when facing Xiao Demon Finger, he couldn't gain the upper hand and was forced to take blows, since Xiao's killing skill could attack from dozens of meters away, never giving Ye Guan Hai a chance to get close.

As for Ye Xin, he almost died at the hands of Zhuang Immortal. That fight was a bitter one; he dared not use Wolf Strength, for if he revealed his abilities, Zhuang Immortal would hunt him to the ends of the earth.

As merely the commander of Heaven's Punishment Battalion, Zhuang Immortal might stop if the cost became too great—after all, most of his warriors were dead, with less than a hundred escaping the encirclement, so there was little need to pursue. But if Ye Xin possessed Ye Guan Hai's legacy, that was another matter.

Ye Xin clenched his fist and struck the charging bear. The bear's shadow looming from the man's body was over three meters tall, dwarfing Ye Xin, but his aura was not inferior in the least.

Boom! The bear's shadow instantly shattered. The man staggered backward again, while Ye Xin merely stepped back half a pace, then lunged forward, raising his fists to strike the man's chest.

The man's foundation was solid; Wolf Strength was not invincible. Its effect depended on the target's energy and channel strength. The man was paralyzed for less than half a second before regaining movement—much stronger than the Poison Widow of Destiny City, who had been helpless under Ye Xin's fists and unable to fight back.

As Ye Xin punched again, the man seemed ready to meet him blow for blow, but just as their fists were about to collide, he suddenly ducked low, spreading his arms to grapple Ye Xin's waist.

But he completely underestimated Ye Xin's reflexes. As his punch missed, Ye Xin changed tactics instantly, his right knee shooting up like a cannonball, smashing into the man's face.

The speed of Ye Xin's move was astonishing, flawless in execution. Anyone watching might think the man had deliberately slammed his face into Ye Xin's knee.

Crunch! The man's neck cracked sharply, his body flying backward like a broken sack, crashing into a pavilion pillar before rolling to the ground.

His nose and mouth were smashed, blood and flesh mangled, blood spraying from his ears. One eye bulged grotesquely, almost ready to fall out, while the other stared askew with a mixture of confusion, rage, and unwillingness.

Ye Xin pounced like a leopard from above, driving his fist into the man's chest and abdomen. The man's head and legs jerked upward, as if about to fly off his body, then crashed heavily to the ground, his body convulsing violently.

Ye Xin reached out and tore off a strip of cloth from the man's body, slowly straightening up and wiping the blood from his fists. He gazed down at the man for a moment, then turned and walked into the house.

He searched the main building behind the courtyard, the side wings, the tofu workshop in front, even the outhouse. No one was found—just the two of them had been here.

After nearly an hour, Ye Xin confirmed there were no secret rooms or passages, his expression puzzled as he slowly returned to the courtyard.

The night wind swept through, blowing golden osmanthus blossoms from the tree, swirling them through the air.

Ye Xin caught one flower in his palm. This golden blossom was unusual, its fragrance a blend of osmanthus and rose.

"So fragrant..." Ye Xin smiled, tossing the flower away and strolling toward the exit.

It was unfortunate timing. As Ye Xin stepped out of the Double Fragrance Tofu Workshop, he saw several city patrols approaching from the far end of the street. Seeing Ye Xin's cloaked figure, the patrols grew alert. The leader shouted, "Hey... stop right there! It's curfew!"

Ye Xin glanced at the patrols and turned, walking slowly down the street.

"You dare to walk away?" the leader yelled, drawing his sword and striding after Ye Xin.

After seven or eight steps, the leader suddenly sensed something amiss and froze. Turning bit by bit, he saw a dozen figures had appeared behind them.

The patrols first noticed the massive wolves, bigger than wild oxen, their heads as large as millstones, fangs protruding beside their mouths—true blood-red maws. None doubted that if these wolves attacked, they could easily swallow them whole.

The wolves began to move forward, as if a single unit, their steps eerily synchronized. Each wolf bore a rider sitting rigidly, unmoving like statues.

The patrols trembled involuntarily; the closer the wolves came, the more violently they shook. Just as they thought death was inevitable, the leading rider raised a hand to his lips, then pointed to the far end of the street.

The patrols suddenly understood, and hurriedly ran off in the direction indicated.