"Ten Cent Wey of the Black Feathered Goose sect," Belger Fing hissed through his teeth. He hovered about eight feet off the ground above me. His arms wide as he gathered his chi. I could feel it rising behind him like a mountain, implacable and unmoveable. "Today, you have ensured the full destruction of your sect. And I will personally seek every member of your family. Any who share your shit blood will die."
I put my finger into my ear and dug out some wax.
I was tired of these threats.
"I don't understand your position," I told him. "Are we not demonic cultivators? Is not strength the definition of righteousness? Merald Fing died by my hand. He was weak. I came here to inform the Arms Master. But instead of thanking me for educating his son before allowing him to rejoin the Resurrection Wheel, he attacked me. Now you are doing the same."
"You killed my son!"
"He tried to sneak attack me from behind," I said calmly. "He had a dagger covered in Black Dragon venom. As a fellow cultivator of the demonic arts, how should that attack be answered, Sect Master, if not with strength?"
"You are trash! A mere disciple by look of you!" The old man's heavy brow was dark like thunder. The chi he'd gathered was being sucked into his body as he reinforced himself. The longer I let him cycle it, the stronger he would get. "My son was worth a thousand of you!"
"Then how did he die so easily?"
"You seek to distract me with sophistry," the old man roared. "You say you believe only in strength, Ten Cent Wey? Then, here. Take my blow!"
He slashed his arm towards me, sending a catastrophic wave of chi slicing through the air towards me.
It crackled with yellow plasma and I could hear the echo of a screaming bird in its wake. The shriek would make most cultivators weak at the knees.
"Phoenix Flame?" I raised an eyebrow as I held my palm out. The crescent blade of flame crashed into my hand, then disintegrated with a final piercing caw as the spirit of the phoenix fled. "This is your best strike, Sect Master? I am unimpressed."
His eyes widened, but he gritted his teeth and raised his sword.
"Very well," he snarled. "I will now use 40% of my power!"
"Feel free to use it all."
"You don't deserve that much!"
"Father!" Another voice called as a young man sprinted down the street. "What is happening here? Please don't overexert yourself!"
Behind him, a pretty young girl skipped quickly, one hand gripping her long dress so she didn't fall. "Father, please listen to Gebil! Think of your precious health!"
The young man stomped to a halt, a long spear in both hands. His flowing black hair and long drawn face resembled his father, but thankfully his sister had been spared such a doom.
I smiled at them both and gave them a small bow but said nothing.
This was a family matter now.
It would be rude to interfere.
"Don't stop me," Belger snapped, aiming his sword at me. "This dog killed your brother!"
"What? He killed Helmit?" Gebil blinked at me. Looking me up and down. "This old man? Are you sure?"
"Where is Uncle Holm?" The girl looked around, then her eyes caught the decapitated body of her uncle. "Oh!"
"Monster," Gebil cried, snatching the girl and turning her gaze away from the dead. "Don't look, little sister Nia!"
"He killed Uncle Holm!" She wailed. "Who will avenge him?"
"I will," The Sect Master said sternly.
"You are misguided," I told him, wagging my finger at him. "The demonic path is one of firm decisions and righteous anger, but in this case there is nothing righteous about your choice. Even if, by some miracle of the Heavens, you survived, your cultivation will suffer a great backlash from this."
"More sophistry," he spat. "For my brother. For my nephews. For my son. I will kill you or may my dantian be shattered to pieces!"
"Kill him, father!" Nia shrieked. "Quickly!"
"No!" Gebil shouted. "We should coordinate!"
But Belger wasn't listening.
His ears had heard his daughter's plea, and this had only triggered his rage into blind unending chaos. This was the danger of the demonic path. Many cultivators mistook hate and vengeance as being the keys to great strength.
But this wasn't the case.
In truth, the strength gained from such heated emotions was a temporary thing. A passing moment which would, ultimately, cause longterm damage to one's cultivation as these emotions were addictive.
Belger, his eyes bright and his face a mask of gleeful lust for violence, streaked towards me like a meteor. Fiery chi burst out of him with such force it knocked his children off their feet.
Gebil's spear flew from his grasp.
Nia let out a squeak before faceplanting hard.
The ground around us blackened as the heat scorched the earth.
I felt his chi slam into me, but it might as well have been a gentle autumn breeze. I was focused. I was planted.
I could not be moved.
His sword flared bright with golden light almost as bright as the sun.
I squinted.
And, as the sword plunged for my chest, I slapped the blade with the back of my hand.
There was a sound like the crack of thunder and the metal blade splintered into a million bright shards which exploded into all directions. The brilliant light which had surrounded it was snuffed in an instant and the old man felt the backlash of his chi.
Caught by surprise, his arms wheeled violently as he tried to maintain his balance. Whirling on his heels, his gaze was pinned to the broken sword in his hand. There was barely an inch of blade left above the hilt.
"The Phoenix Blade!" He wailed in horror. "This was the Fing Family Heavenly Grade Treasure!"
"Nonsense," I said. "It was Earth Grade at best. Low Earth Grade, too. Did you buy it at the market?"
"You broke my treasure," he growled, carefully tucking the hilt into his spatial ring. "Now I will break you!"
"You seek death, then," I said, crooking my finger. "Come, Belgar Fing. Let me send you on your way."
"Father!" Gebil scrambled for his spear as the old man charged again.
This time, he was in a fairly decent martial arts posture.
He came in fast, fingers clawed as he prepared to grapple.
Not a bad tactic.
A decent martial artist with some grappling experience could overwhelm a stronger opponent, provided that opponent wasn't too far above their Stage.
Unfortunately, I'd already discovered by the strength of his Phoenix Flame that he was Fourth Stage at most.
The old man grabbed my wrist and a look of sinister triumph lit up his face. I could feel the chi reinforcing his fingers as he clamped around my bones.
"I will rip the arms from your body," he hissed.
And yanked.
I didn't move. It was like he was yanking on steel.
He frowned.
Then yanked again.
I smiled at him.
"What are you?" He asked hoarsely as understanding rippled behind his eyes.
"Seventh Stage," I told him.
"Seventh?" He dropped to his knees, still holding my arm. "Mercy! Have mercy, Ten Cent Wey!"
"Father!" I heard the thud of footsteps as Gebil rushed me from behind.
Nia's voice rang out sharply. "Get him, Gebil! Kill him! Quickly! While his back is turned! Save our precious father!"
"Stop!" Belger roared. "Gebil, stop!"
I slapped the boy without looking. My hand had barely touched his chest when his upper torso simply exploded into a spray of blood and meaty shrapnel.
"Gebil!" Belger cried, then tugged on my arm again. "Ten Cent Wey!"
I turned to the old man.
Bent down to look straight into his terrified eyes.
"In your next life, Sect Master, you should cultivate harder!"
My slap hit him in the cheek and wiped his head clean off his neck. Blood fountained as the head rocketed into a nearby wall with a wet splatter that reduced it to nothing.
Such was the power of a good hard slap.
I turned again as I heard footsteps.
Only to find the girl bowing low, her head on the ground.
"Thank you, Ten Cent Wey," she cried. "I am free at last! I cannot hope to pay this debt, so offer to be your slave. This little one will serve you obediently and loyally forever! I shall wash your clothes. Pour your tea. Tend your chickens. I will do anything for you, Master! I will even clean your shoes and warm your bed with great joy! Please don't stop me!"
I blinked.
My wife wasn't going to like this…