Chapter 270: Horse Lord's Wrath

Chapter 270: The Wrath of the Master

The Imperial Guards described by Zhai ManChang bore sharp pen shafts pressing down on their heads, yet lacked the iron barrels of firearms in their hands.

Their funds were stripped by superiors, their financial paths severed by the powerful, leaving them in a wretched state. No longer did they wield the boundless authority of the Hongwu Emperor’s founding days, when they "executed laws with majesty and restrained unruly courtiers."

Their current existence seemed more like a relic of the New Donglin Party, a final token of face left for the imperial court—a toy for the young emperor.

This was likely the true state of the Imperial Guards across the empire.

As for Li Jun’s experience, it was an irreplaceable exception.

During his time in the Chengdu Mansion, his commanding officer and the hundred households were the father and son of the Yu family.

As minor shareholders in the Qingcheng Group, the father and son had joined the Imperial Guards not for meager salaries, but to exploit their status for convenience.

The situation in the Chongqing Mansion was a mix of fish and dragons, with various forces displaying their prowess.

Without the shelter of eaves over the Imperial Guards’ headquarters, and with a powerhouse like Yan Baihu stationed there, they could command such an awe-inspiring position.

Yet the path Li Jun had walked was a hundred times more arduous than Zhai ManChang’s, like treading on thin ice under heavy burdens, or navigating treacherous mountains with blades beneath his feet.

“Enough. I’ve poured out all my bitterness. It’s time to do real work.”

Zhai ManChang patted his plump belly, propped himself up on his knees, and stood. Amidst the horrified, desperate gaze of Huan Shiyuan, he walked forward with hands clasped behind his back.

“Waaah…”

Every bone in Huan’s body, including his jaw, had been crushed to pieces. Now, he could only emit a muffled, indistinct whimper, his eyes flashing with a beast-like malevolence.

“Your state is a warning that the Huan Clan won’t let me go? Save your breath. I finally caught you—if you don’t die, I will.”

Zhai’s tone was gentle. His short, thick fingers lightly pressed against the face of the barbarian.

In the next moment, an eerie glow erupted from the ring on his scepter. A black cord, like a venomous serpent, shot out, slithering into Huan’s nostrils.

Huan’s eyes widened abruptly. A web of blood vessels crawled over his bulging eyeballs, devouring his dark pupils. His body convulsed violently, as if struck by lightning, saliva trickling from his mouth.

As the glow intensified, the light in Huan’s eyes dimmed rapidly.

When the cord retracted into the ring, his mind was reduced to a pulp of mush, blood gushing from his seven orifices, seeping into the ground.

His body died, his consciousness severed.

In the days to come, Huan Shiyuan would linger in the chaotic void of the Imperial Prison, awaiting judgment from the Ministry of Punishment.

“Oh, right.”

Zhai wiped his hands with a silk cloth, glancing at Li Jun, who sat beneath the eaves.

“When you and this barbarian clashed, my men caught an unexpected guest.”

“Who?”

“You’ll see.”

Zhai teased, slapping his palm. “Bring him in.”

Footsteps echoed outside. Two Imperial Guards carried in a young man, his body stained with blood, his face as pale as paper.

“Mo Jin?!”

Li Jun didn’t recognize the face, but the Master of the Ma Clan had spoken ill of him enough for Li to identify him at a glance.

“How did this bastard end up here?”

“At first, I couldn’t figure it out. He should’ve been hiding in the Mo Army’s headquarters in Laizhou Mansion with Mo Ke, waiting for the outcome. Why risk coming to Lingshan Guard?”

“Something’s amiss. So I had my men question him.”

Zhai’s expression grew grim. He prodded Huan’s corpse with his toe, and three mechanical devices the size of fists rolled out.

“That’s when we learned he’d come to deliver this to Huan Shiyuan.”

“Control core?!”

The idle Master of the Ma Clan suddenly sprang up, his red eyes blazing with fury.

“Mo Ke dared to trade the Mo Armor with the barbarians?! How dare he?!”

A growl of lethal intent echoed through the courtyard, crimson light like blades pinning the pale face.

The two Laizhou Guards released their grip, stepping back in unison. The unsupported Mo Jin collapsed with a thud, kneeling.

“What’s there to fear? What’s there to fear?”

Mo Jin’s trembling shoulders hunched in defeat. He lifted his head, revealing a grimacing smile.

“These Mo Spirits were my slaves to begin with. A slave dies for their master—that’s only natural, righteous by heaven and earth!”

Huff!

The Master of the Ma Clan materialized before Mo Jin, gripping his throat and lifting him into the air.

“Say that again, you son of a bitch!”

“You Mo Spirits… you’re all dead men. You rely on us to return to the living world, to survive. What are you if not servants?”

Mo Jin’s forehead veins bulged. His hands clutched the mechanical claws at his throat, his red-rimmed eyes filled with despair and hatred.

“No, you’re not even worthy of being servants. Because you’re not even human. Look at yourself. You Mo Spirits are just lost souls fearing death, wild ghosts parasitizing steel!”

The claws slowly closed. The oppressed throat emitted a crunching sound.

Mo Jin’s voice grew hoarse and abrupt. “You think you’re really you? Haha… Haha, you’re just a memory you can’t even distinguish as real or fake. You Mo Spirits aren’t even as good as Huangliang Demons!”

Crack.

His spine and throat shattered. Blood spurted from the gaps in the claws, his head lolling backward and falling to the ground.

The night wind fell silent, even the distant waves barely audible.

“Old Li.” The Master of the Ma Clan, facing Li Jun, suddenly spoke.

“Hmm.”

“Come with me to Laizhou Mansion?”

The voice from the Mo Armor carried no trace of its former recklessness, only a hint of plea.

On the steps, Li Jun slowly rose.

His left hand held a cigarette, its smoke coiled with lethal intent. His right hand gripped the Xiuqun Blade, its edge reflecting the moonlight.

“Go!”

No lengthy discourse, no root-and-branch inquiries—only a sharp, decisive word.

“Brothers, patience.”

Zhai ManChang stepped in front of the Master of the Ma Clan, his voice low. “Huan Shiyuan failed to report back on time. With Mo Ke’s cunning, he’s probably already left Laizhou Mansion. Rushing there now would be futile!”

“That beast!”

Li Jun stepped forward, pressing a hand on the Master’s restless shoulder, locking eyes with Zhai ManChang.

His black eyes blazed like burning flames, a tide of fury.

The red eyes were icy, piercing, hatred surging.

In that fleeting moment, Zhai Mancang felt a chill run through his entire body and instinctively took a step back.

He licked his dry lips, and his voice trembled for reasons unknown.

"To commit such an act, Mokeqi would surely not dare remain in the imperial homeland. Tonight, there is a cross-sea train bound for the Wōmín Quarter—if he means to flee, this is the only path!"