Demon Sword And The Deathly Palm

Chapter — 2

The attack was so fast.

Not just any punch. It was a pat and a grip that contained the power to damage the martial pulse—the very essence of a cultivator's life.

Anyone who is affected will lose their future, maybe even their life.

Several Xiao Clan elders caught the movement with the corner of their eyes.

Years of instincts allow them to recognize danger in a split second, but their bodies aren't quick enough to react.

“Chen’er, be careful!!”

The voice of the Xiao Clan Patriarch—Xiao Feng—boomed, shattering the euphoria into panic. It was no longer the calm voice of a leader, but the scream of a father.

But how could Xiao Chen, a twelve-year-old boy, possibly avoid an attack from an Intermediate Grandmaster Stage practitioner?

The pressure from the attack had already compressed the air around him. Xiao Chen's small feet felt frozen. His breath was choked.

For the first time that night, those usually calm eyes showed a flash of surprise.

At that critical moment—

A blood-red palm shadow appeared out of nowhere.

It shot from the left side, carrying a hot aura that contrasted with the cold of the night.

The palm expanded in the air, solidifying into a tangible form filled with energy cracks, then slammed straight towards the attack aimed at Xiao Chen.

BOOM!

A loud bang erupted, shaking the manor's courtyard. Tables were overturned, broken cups scattered.

A wild wave of wind swept over guests and servants, throwing several people to the ground.

Two Grandmaster powers clashed. But the outcome was clear.

The shadow of the red palm cracked, then shattered into pieces like glass being hit by a hammer.

The figure who released him was pushed back several steps, his feet leaving deep marks in the stone floor.

As the dust slowly cleared away in the night wind, everyone finally saw who was standing in front of Xiao Chen.

It was the old servant of the Xiao Clan—Ye Yuan.

His hair had turned completely white, and his back was slightly hunched. He had always been known as a quiet servant, tending the kitchen and backyard.

Not many people know that behind his wrinkles and simple clothes, lies the power of a practitioner who has long kept himself hidden.

Now, his robe was torn at the sleeves. Blood dripped from the corners of his lips.

But he remained standing.

Ye Yuan's eyes stared straight at the black-clothed figure floating a few steps in front of them.

“Just a flawed punching technique, trying to stop me! Get lost!!”

The cold, disdainful voice came from the mouth of the black-clothed practitioner wearing a half-face mask.

The aura emanating from him was heavy and oppressive—clearly an Intermediate Stage Grandmaster, a power far surpassing most Xiao Clan elders.

Without giving him a chance, he struck again.

This time, it was faster. Deadlier. The air vibrated violently. The fist carried a vortex of energy that condensed like a small hurricane.

Ye Yuan tried to raise both hands, mustering his remaining strength to form a protective layer.

However, the difference in level and age makes the power unbalanced.

Puchii!

The old man's body was sent flying like a dry leaf in a hurricane. He slammed into the manor wall with a loud thud, cracks spreading from the impact. Bricks shattered, dust fell.

Ye Yuan fell to his knees.

Blood poured from his mouth, wetting his white beard. His chest rose and fell heavily. His ribs were clearly broken. He tried to get up—and tried again—but his legs couldn't support him anymore.

Even so, the determination to never give up still burned in his eyes.

“Chen … little Chen …” he murmured softly, his voice hoarse.

But the black-clothed practitioner didn't even glance at him again.

To him, Ye Yuan was just a small nuisance.

He had only one target. With a light step, he shot back towards Xiao Chen.

Now, there is really nothing that can stop him.

The Xiao Clan elders were already engaged in battle against the figures that suddenly appeared from the shadows. They didn't have time to rescue Xiao Chen.

The defense formation that had not been fully activated left them divided, each struggling to defend themselves and their families.

Xiao Chen stood amidst the chaos. Time seemed to slow down.

He saw the black figure approaching. He felt an incredible pressure pressing down on his chest. His small body couldn't move. He wanted to retreat, but his feet felt rooted to the ground.

In a moment—

The big hand had already gripped Xiao Chen's neck.

“Ah—!”

Xiao Chen's body was lifted off the ground. Strong fingers pressed against his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. His small face paled.

The practitioner stared at him with cold eyes behind the mask.

“Purple talent?” His voice sounded sarcastic. “Then how about just erasing it? You’ll be trash for life.”

A wave of dark energy gathered in his palm.

Xiao Chen felt something strange and terrifying invade his body. The energy didn't attack his flesh or bones—it went straight to the center of his martial arts pulse.

So—

CRACK!

Like something fragile being squeezed mercilessly.

An indescribable pain exploded within Xiao Chen. He wanted to scream, but his voice was choked.

The martial pulse that had just been awakened with purple light … was destroyed in one grip.

The faint purple aura that had been vibrating on Xiao Chen's body instantly extinguished.

The practitioner let go of his body.

Xiao Chen fell to the ground like a puppet without its strings.

“No!! ....”

Xiao Feng's scream shook the night.

He saw with his own eyes—his son, the hope of the Xiao Clan, the light of their future—destroyed just like that before him.

Something inside Xiao Feng broke.

The Patriarch's previously restrained aura exploded wildly. His hair fluttered, and his eyes were bloodshot with uncontrollable rage and grief.

“YOU—!!”

Xiao Feng's expression suddenly turned ferocious. He no longer cared about the defensive formation, nor did he care about the balance of the battle on the other side of the courtyard.

All his rationality as a leader vanished. All that remained was a father.

Xiao Feng flashed, his speed increasing drastically. The stone floor cracked beneath his feet.

In one breath, he was already in front of the black-clothed practitioner.

“You also have to feel the suffering that my son suffered!!”

Xiao Feng's fist shot out with full force. His internal energy exploded like a volcano, forming a faint dragon shadow that roared in the air.

The black-clothed practitioner snorted coldly.

“Patriarch Xiao … you are too slow.”

The two fists met.

BOOOOM!

A shockwave swept through the courtyard, extinguishing some of the lanterns. A wild wind swirled, scattering the splinters of wood and red cloth that had decorated the banquet.

But this time, Xiao Feng didn't back down. Anger drove him to the limit.

Xiao Feng attacked again, one after another, without pause. Each blow carried the pain accumulated in that single second of destruction.

On the other side of the courtyard, some members of the Xiao Clan finally managed to re-form a temporary defense.

But when they turned their heads and saw Xiao Chen lying motionless on the ground, their faces turned pale.

The purple light that was once a source of pride... has gone out.

The night that was previously full of euphoria has now turned into a sea of ​​blood and fire.

Under the starless sky, Xiao Village which a few hours ago was filled with hope about the Holy Swordsman... was now drowning in despair.

This caused the painstakingly repaired defense formation to be breached once again. The men in black entered one by one and began slaughtering the entire Xiao Clan.