Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 514 514: CHEN MO'S WRATH

"I won't ask again. Where is Su Yueqing?" Chen Mo's voice cut through the silence like a blade, low and dangerous.

Xu Tialan pressed his lips into a thin, stubborn line.

Blood still trickled from the corner of his mouth, yet he refused to speak.

His eyes burned with defiance, even as pain twisted his features.

Chen Mo's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

Without another word, he raised the blade high, the edge catching the dim light and flashing with cold intent.

The air around the weapon seemed to hum with restrained killing qi, ready to cleave Xu Tialan in two.

But before the sword could descend, a deafening crack tore through the heavens.

For the second time that day, the sky itself split open.

A jagged tear of blinding white light ripped across the bruised purple dusk.

From that wound in reality, three figures slowly descended, robes billowing like dark clouds caught in an updraft.

They wore the exact same style of robe as Xu Tialan.

The figure at the center was an old man of imposing stature.

Long white hair flowed past his shoulders like a cascade of silk, and his beard, carefully trimmed and neat, framed a face carved from years of authority and power.

Despite the deep lines of age etched around his eyes, an astonishing vitality pulsed from him, far stronger than the two younger cultivators flanking him.

His posture was ramrod straight, exuding the unshakable dignity of someone who had long commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

To his left stood a young man, sharp-featured and proud, his chin tilted upward in habitual arrogance.

To the right was a young woman, beautiful in a cold, untouchable way, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass.

Both carried themselves with the same haughty air as the elder, though their presence felt noticeably lighter, less suffocating.

When Xu Tialan caught sight of them, the terror that had gripped his face melted away.

A wide, almost manic smile spread across his bloodied lips.

Relief and triumph flooded his eyes.

"Elder Qin!" he cried out, voice cracking with raw excitement.

To him, death had just stepped back.

Chen Mo barely spared the newcomers a glance.

His dark eyes remained locked on Xu Tialan, cold and unyielding.

The sword in his hand never wavered.

The old man, Elder Qin, landed lightly a few meters away, boots touching the cracked earth without a sound.

The two juniors touched down silently behind him, forming a loose triangle that boxed Chen Mo and Xu Tialan in.

"Xu Tialan," Elder Qin said, his tone heavy with disappointment.

"How can you be reduced to such a pitiful state by someone from a mere lower realm? You have thoroughly soiled the name of our sect."

His words carried the weight of a judge passing sentence.

Elder Qin's sharp gaze flicked toward Chen Mo, sizing him up in an instant.

The old man stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully, a faint spark of interest appearing in his ancient eyes.

"Hmm. Quite the decent young man," he murmured, almost to himself. "Impressive foundation… and that killing intent. Rare."

Chen Mo ignored the praise completely.

" Xu Tialan," he said, voice dropping even colder, "where is Su Yueqing?"

Xu Tialan laughed, a short, ugly bark. With the elders present, his fear had evaporated.

Confidence returned like poison seeping back into his veins.

"Su Yueqing is dead," he sneered, savoring each word.

Chen Mo's pupils contracted sharply.

"What did you say?" His qi pressure exploded outward in a sudden, violent wave.

The air around him thickened, pressing down like an invisible mountain. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ground beneath his feet.

Xu Tialan's grin widened, cruel and gleeful.

"Hmph. She should consider herself honored to have caught the sect master's eye. As a devoted disciple, I gladly offered her to him." He leaned forward slightly, eyes glittering with malice.

"But alas… she wasn't strong enough. She couldn't handle the overwhelming vitality of the sect master. She lost her life in the process."

The words landed like stones dropped into still water.

Elder Qin gave a soft, indifferent hum, stroking his beard again.

"Oho. So this boy must be related to that girl." His tone was casual, almost amused.

"Indeed, she was quite pretty. It was an honor for someone of her lowly origins to catch the sect master's attention. At the very least, she died in the embrace of such a great being."

The young man beside Elder Qin smirked faintly, while the woman's lips curved in faint, disdainful agreement.

Chen Mo's face had gone deathly still. Only his eyes burned, two black flames of barely contained rage.

Elder Qin turned his attention fully to Chen Mo now, sizing him up once more with the look of a merchant appraising rare goods.

"If she truly held some value to you," the elder said smoothly, "perhaps we can offer compensation. Our sect master, after all, is a generous man. All you need to do is bend the knee and submit. Swear loyalty to him. With your talent, you will soar to heights you cannot yet imagine. The sect master will draw out the very best of your potential."

The offer hung in the air, wrapped in silk and arrogance.

Chen Mo said nothing.

He simply stared at Xu Tialan.

The sword in his hand trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer force of killing intent pouring through his meridians.

Xu Tialan's triumphant smile vanished the instant he noticed Elder Qin attempting to recruit Chen Mo.

He swallowed the bitter displeasure rising in his throat, forcing it down like poison.

To voice even a single word of objection would risk angering the elder and earning a swift death.

"Trash," Chen Mo said coldly, voice carrying across the blood-soaked ruins like a winter blade.

"I should have expected less from someone carrying Xu Canghai's blood."

As brutally as possible, he swung his sword toward Xu Tialan's neck.

Xu Tialan saw the blade descending and tried to scream for help, mouth opening in terror.

But the cry never left his lips.

Before he could react, his head was chopped clean off.

It tumbled through the air, eyes still wide with shock, before rolling to a stop several feet away.

His body crumpled like a discarded puppet, blood fountaining from the severed neck in rhythmic jets that painted the stone crimson.