132: Chapter 132 The Body of the Cold Moon

"Who... who exactly are you?"

Ye Yun raised his eyes.

He looked at him indifferently.

His tone was as calm as if he were speaking of an insignificant trifle:

"A dying man has no need for many words; I am the one who will take your life."

The Scar-faced Man's expression changed.

He suddenly drew his blade.

Mystic Power surged wildly around him.

The aura of the Great Martial Master Seventh Level fully erupted.

He let out a roar and unleashed the strongest Martial Skill he had learned in his life—Earth-Rending Blade.

The blade's radiance surged.

It transformed into a sharp blade light about ten feet long.

It slashed down fiercely towards Ye Yun!

"Die!"

Fang Hansu cried out in alarm.

Her voice was filled with fear:

"Watch out!"

A faint smile played on the corners of Ye Yun's mouth.

Instead of retreating, he advanced.

His right hand gripped the hilt at his waist.

The burning snow sword was unsheathed.

A fiery red sword light pierced through the night sky.

Like a meteor falling to earth.

It was so fast that the naked eye could not track its trajectory at all.

"Clang—"

Blade and sword collided.

Sparks flew in all directions.

The Scar-faced Man's blade shattered instantly.

Fragments scattered.

The sword light's momentum did not diminish.

It swept across his neck.

The Scar-faced Man's eyes widened.

A gurgling sound came from his throat.

Blood gushed out from his neck.

He looked down at his empty hands.

Then he looked up at Ye Yun.

His eyes were filled with disbelief.

His lips quivered a few times.

He wanted to say something.

But he could only spit out a mouthful of bloody foam.

He fell to the ground with a thud.

Great Martial Master Seventh Level.

Killed in one strike.

Fang Hansu was completely stunned.

She stared blankly at Ye Yun.

Her mind was a total blank.

Killing a Great Martial Master Seventh Level with one strike.

What level of cultivation was this?

Great Martial Master Eighth Stage, or Ninth Stage?

This youth, who looked even younger than her.

What exactly was his background?

Yun'er's eyes also widened.

Her mouth was open wide enough to fit an egg.

The servants who hadn't died yet saw this scene.

They were scared to the point of Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering.

They scrambled and crawled to flee backward.

Ye Yun frowned slightly.

His figure flashed out.

Sword light flickered.

Several more heads fell to the ground.

He moved extremely fast.

Clean and efficient.

But in the end, there was a fish that slipped through the net—

A clever servant took advantage of the darkness to slip into the dense forest.

And vanished into the dark.

Ye Yun sheathed his sword.

He glanced in the direction the man had fled.

Shaking his head, he said indifferently:

"One got away."

He turned and walked back to the campfire.

He glanced at Uncle Fu lying on the ground.

Uncle Fu struggled to sit up.

But his injuries were too severe.

He couldn't move at all.

He looked at Ye Yun.

His eyes were filled with gratitude and shock.

His lips trembled, unable to speak.

Fang Hansu finally came to her senses.

She stumbled to Uncle Fu's side.

Kneeling on the ground.

Tears streamed down her face:

"Uncle Fu! Uncle Fu, how are you?"

Uncle Fu shook his head weakly.

He spoke with difficulty:

"Young Miss... this old servant is fine. Thanks to this Young Master..."

Fang Hansu turned to look at Ye Yun.

Tears blurred her vision.

She wanted to say something.

But she found a thousand words stuck in her throat.

She couldn't say anything.

She could only kneel on the ground.

And kowtow deeply to Ye Yun.

Ye Yun glanced at her and said indifferently:

"Get up. The ground is cold."

Fang Hansu raised her head.

She looked at him with teary eyes.

Under the firelight, the youth's face was handsome and calm.

As if he hadn't just killed over a dozen people.

But rather a dozen ants.

His gaze was still as steady as a deep pool.

Without the slightest ripple.

She suddenly remembered the chill that had surged from within her body just now.

She remembered that ice-blue halo.

That was a feeling she had never had before.

As if something had awakened inside her.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask something.

But she didn't know where to start.

Ye Yun's gaze lingered on her for a moment.

A faint, imperceptible light flashed in his eyes.

[Ding! Detected special Physique—Cold Moon Physique!]

[Cold Moon Physique: A rare top-tier cultivation Physique from ancient times. A woman with this Physique contains the taiyin cold moon essence within her. During Dual Cultivation, it can significantly increase the purity of the host's Mystic Power, accelerate cultivation Breakthroughs, and has a chance to awaken moon-based Divine Abilities!]

[It is suggested that the host establish a connection as soon as possible; long-term Dual Cultivation yields massive benefits!]

Hearing the System's voice, Ye Yun looked at Bai Hansu.

She was kneeling beside Uncle Fu, carefully bandaging his wounds, her movements gentle and focused.

The firelight reflected on her profile, outlining a soft silhouette.

Her tear stains were not yet dry, and tiny droplets still hung on her eyelashes, shimmering in the firelight.

That face was indeed extremely beautiful.

Her features were like a painting, her nose delicate, her lips rosy, and her skin as fair as jade.

Even though she was disheveled and haggard now, she still couldn't hide that cold and ethereal temperament.

But what Ye Yun truly cared about was not Fang Hansu's beauty, but the Cold Moon Physique within her.

[Cold Moon Physique... the Physique improves Mystic Power purity, accelerates Breakthroughs, and can even awaken moon-based Divine Abilities.]

Ye Yun calculated rapidly in his mind.

[If I can take her by my side for long-term Dual Cultivation, my cultivation speed will increase by at least another thirty percent. Moreover, she is currently at a dead end; the Fang Family has been destroyed, Uncle Fu is heavily injured, and she is alone with no one to rely on. This is her most vulnerable time.]

Helping her now and showing kindness would make her dependent on and trust him, and then he could slowly work towards his goal...

He just couldn't be too hasty. She had just experienced the tragedy of her family's extermination, and her mental defenses were very high. If he acted too intentionally, it might backfire.

Ye Yun withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes again, the corners of his mouth curling into a very faint arc.

After Fang Hansu finished bandaging Uncle Fu's wounds, she looked up and just happened to see the fleeting smile on Ye Yun's lips.

She was slightly startled, and her heart skipped a beat for some reason.

[What is he smiling about?]

She stared at his profile for a moment, then quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly.

She didn't know why she was flustered.

She only felt that the youth's smile was like a lamp suddenly lit in the deep night.

Flickering, yet making one unable to resist wanting to draw closer.

The campfire crackled, dispelling the cold of the night.

Fang Hansu hugged her knees and leaned against the tree trunk, her gaze resting on Ye Yun, never moving away.

She didn't know who this youth was, why he was here, or even his name.

But at this moment, she felt that as long as he was there, she wasn't afraid of anything.

The night was still long, but the dawn would eventually come.

...

The next day.

Morning light pierced through the layers of foliage, casting mottled golden spots in the mountain forest.

Birdsong came from afar, crisp and melodious, dispelling the silence of the night.

The campfire had long since burned out, leaving only a pile of grey-white embers, with occasional wisps of blue smoke.

Ye Yun opened his eyes, slowly stood up, and stretched his muscles and bones.

A night of meditation had restored his Mystic Power to its Peak state.

His Great Martial Master Eighth Stage Middle Stage cultivation was like a dormant volcano, restrained yet profound.

He glanced not far away.

Fang Hansu was leaning against the tree trunk, curled up, not sleeping soundly.

Her brow was slightly furrowed, and tear stains still hung on her eyelashes.

The maid named Cuier was snuggled beside her, the red marks on her hands from the ropes shocking to behold.

Her face still bore the terror of having survived a disaster.