147: Chapter 147 A Person Seeking Death

Ye Yun did not even pause his footsteps; he simply waved his hand, and a sharp Sword Qi slashed out.

"Puchi—"

The head of the Flame Tiger fell in response, blood gushed out, and its massive body crashed to the ground.

Wen Yulan stared blankly at this scene, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes filled with shock.

A Level 3 Early Stage Yao Beast would take her dozens of Moves to take down even if she fought with all her might.

Yet Ye Yun had solved it with a casual sword strike, without even using any Martial Skill.

"Just how strong is his strength…?"

On the road ahead, she witnessed even more.

An Iron-Backed Rhino at the Level 3 Middle Stage charged from the side, only to have its head shattered by a single punch from Ye Yun.

A Wind-Winged Bat at the Level 3 Middle Stage swooped down from the treetops, only to be sliced in two by his sword.

Every strike was clean and neat, without any hesitation, and he didn't even pause his footsteps.

Wen Yulan followed behind him, watching his calm and indifferent demeanor.

A sense of indescribable security welled up in her heart.

With him here, she had nothing to fear.

...

The two traveled for about another half an hour before clamorous human voices suddenly came from ahead.

Ye Yun paused his steps, his gaze slightly narrowed as he listened.

The sounds drew closer, accompanied by vulgar laughter and messy footsteps; clearly, there were many of them.

Soon, a dozen figures emerged from the dense forest, blocking their path.

It was a group of ragged Loose Cultivators, each with a fierce expression, carrying a strong stench of blood and alcohol.

Leading them was a bald, burly man with a face full of flab.

A hideous scar ran diagonally from his left eyebrow to his right cheek, and one eye was cloudy and white, evidently blind.

He was burly, with a ghost-head broadsword slung at his waist, and a thick aura of a Great Martial Master Eighth Stage Peak radiated from his entire body.

Behind him followed a dozen people with uneven cultivation levels.

The weakest were at the Great Martial Master Level 5, and the two strongest were at the Great Martial Master Seventh Level.

The group was laughing and joking, and when their gazes landed on Ye Yun and Wen Yulan, they immediately lit up.

"Yo-ho, to run into such a fresh little vixen in these deep mountains and old forests?"

The scar-faced man's gaze wandered unscrupulously over Wen Yulan.

Sliding from her slender neck to her chest, and then further down.

Landing on her slender waist and the exposed calves of her legs.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Those behind him joined in the jeering, their eyes glued to Wen Yulan, filled with lewdness and greed.

"Boss, this little vixen is truly pretty! Her skin is as white as snow, and this figure—tsk tsk—is a hundred times better than the top girls in the brothels!"

"And she's wearing a man's clothes, tsk tsk, did they just finish doing the deed? That kid certainly has good fortune."

"Boss, let's snatch her over and let the brothers have a taste too!"

The scar-faced man licked his lips, moved his gaze away from Wen Yulan, and landed it on Ye Yun, a flash of disdain in his eyes.

A kid whose hair hasn't even fully grown, yet he dares to possess such a beauty?

He sneered, swaggered forward, and pointed his scabbard at Ye Yun, his tone full of arrogance.

"Kid, lend this little vixen to the brothers to play with. If you're sensible and hand her over, maybe we'll be in a good mood and leave your corpse intact."

The people behind him roared with laughter, rubbing their hands together.

Their gazes lingered on Wen Yulan, wishing they could pounce immediately.

Wen Yulan's expression was extremely ugly; she subconsciously leaned behind Ye Yun, her fingers tightly clutching his hem.

She bit her lip, her eyes filled with disgust and anger.

But she also knew that she could only exert fifty or sixty percent of her strength right now and could not help at all.

Ye Yun stood in place, watching this mob of rabble, a flash of coldness in his eyes.

He did not speak, just quietly watched them, as if looking at a group of dead people.

Seeing that he did not speak, the scar-faced man thought he was afraid and became even more smug. He stepped forward and reached out to grab Wen Yulan's arm.

"Little beauty, don't be afraid, big brothers will take good care of you…"

Before his hand could touch Wen Yulan, a fiery red sword light flashed by.

"Ah—!"

The scar-faced man screamed, his outstretched arm severed at the elbow, blood gushing out like a fountain.

He staggered back, clutching his severed arm, his face deathly pale, his eyes filled with disbelief and fear.

"You, you…"

Ye Yun stood holding his sword, blood dripping from the burning snow sword, reflecting against his cold and stern face.

He said calmly, his voice not loud, yet it clearly entered everyone's ears.

"Who else wants to come up and try?"

The whole scene was dead silent.

The lewd smiles on those Loose Cultivators' faces froze instantly, and they all widened their eyes.

Looking at the twitching arm on the ground, then looking at Ye Yun, their legs went weak, and they subconsciously retreated.

The scar-faced man's face turned livid, and he roared through gritted teeth.

"What are you all standing there for? Attack together! He's just one person, can he really turn the heavens upside down?"

As his voice fell, the dozen Loose Cultivators exchanged glances and finally gritted their teeth and pounced.

With flashing blades and swords, they enveloped him from all directions, wanting to tear Ye Yun into pieces.

Ye Yun's lips curled into a cold sneer, his steps shifted lightly, and his figure instantly disappeared from where he stood.

Executing the Flowing Cloud Steps to the extreme, his figure weaved through the crowd like a ghost, the burning snow sword turning into a sky full of fiery red sword shadows.

Every time he struck, someone was bound to fall.

There were no flashy Moves, no unnecessary leakage of Mystic Power, only the purest slaughter.

"Puchi, puchi, puchi—"

Sword light flashed, three heads flew high into the air, blood gushing like a fountain.

Another flash of sword light, and four corpses fell to the ground in unison.

The remaining Loose Cultivators were scared out of their wits, turning to flee, but Ye Yun gave them no chance at all.

He moved again, caught up to one, and pierced through their heart with a sword.

With a backhanded sword stroke, he severed another's throat.

Three breaths.

Merely three breaths.

All the dozen Loose Cultivators fell to the ground; not one could stand up.

Some had shattered heads, some had pierced chests, others had severed limbs; blood stained the withered leaves on the ground red.

The air was filled with a thick stench of blood.

The scar-faced man stood there, looking at the corpses covering the ground, his face pale as paper, his legs weak, almost collapsing to the ground.

He widened his eyes, looking at Ye Yun, his lips trembling, his voice shaking.

"You… who exactly are you?"

Ye Yun carried his sword and walked slowly toward him, every step feeling like it was treading on the tip of his heart.

He said calmly.

"The person who is going to take your life."

The scar-faced man fell to his knees with a thud, scrambling to kowtow, his voice filled with fear and begging.

"Master, spare my life! Master, spare my life! This lowly one was blind and failed to recognize Mount Tai, offending you, Master. Please, spare my life! This lowly one is willing to offer all his wealth to you, Master!"

He took out a Storage Pouch from his bosom, holding it up with both hands to present it to Ye Yun, trembling all over, cold sweat raining from his forehead.

"Inside are all the possessions I have saved over these years, as well as a few Spiritual Plants—all offered to you, Master! Please, Master, grant me a way to live!"

Ye Yun looked down at him, not a shred of pity in his eyes.

He reached out and took the Storage Pouch, saying calmly.

"I have accepted your items. I will also accept your life."