No Pain Or Itch

The night was as cold as water.

Outside Linzhou Immortal Martial Academy, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Han Qingshan's fury surged within him, a terrifying aura surrounding his figure. The ground beneath his feet cracked with a series of sharp clicks, the fissures spreading like spider webs.

Han Ziyi, his most beloved granddaughter, had been wounded. And Horn had dared to harm her—a crime that Han Qingshan deemed unforgivable.

His earlier vows forgotten, Han Qingshan chose to intervene.

Han Ziyi, struggling to stand with blood staining her right shoulder, shouted through the pain, "Horn, I'm waiting to see how you plan to make me despair! Don't disappoint me!"

But despite her bravado, fear gnawed at her. How had Horn, someone she considered beneath notice, attained the cultivation level of the Sky Control Realm? Her grandfather had said he was at least in the Late Stage of this realm—far surpassing even the top genius of the Immortal Martial Academy in the imperial capital.

She didn't want to admit that Horn was a monster. She wanted her grandfather to crush him quickly, so she could continue believing that Horn was nothing but a waste.

Mr. Wei stepped forward, mocking, "Han Qingshan, you're the vice president of the Immortal Martial Academy in the imperial capital. Didn't you say you always keep your word? Now your promises sound like mere empty words!"

Mr. Qiao added coldly, "Han Qingshan, are hypocrites like you fit to be role models? You're only leading others astray!"

Han Qingshan trembled with anger at their insults, especially under the disdainful gazes of Lin Zixuan, Jiang Wan, and others. He gritted his teeth, his aura growing fiercer.

"Little brat, I'll give you a chance to live," he declared. "I'll help you with all your troubles if you agree to become a slave to our Han family."

Han Qingshan had changed his mind. He coveted Horn's cultivation talent. If he could control Horn, the Han family might rise to even greater heights.

Han Ziyi, though initially shocked by her grandfather's words, quickly saw the advantage. If Horn became their slave, it would greatly benefit the Han family. "Little brat," she said arrogantly, "since my grandfather is offering you a way out, you should be grateful."

"Kneel, kowtow to us, and call us master. We'll take care of your problems from now on."

But Horn simply stretched and stepped towards Han Qingshan. "So much nonsense," he said. "If you want to fight, fight. If you want to kill, kill. Stop wasting my time. You're delaying my sleep."

Outraged by his disrespect, Han Ziyi hissed, "Grandfather, this brat refuses to bow! We can't let him live. Finish him!"

Han Qingshan nodded coldly. "Little brat, this is your choice. Don't regret it!"

With that, he stepped forward, his withered right palm striking towards Horn. "Hurricane Destruction Palm!"

In that instant, the sky and earth seemed to change color, the moon losing its light, and even the stars dimming. A terrifying hurricane formed between the heavens and earth, obliterating everything in its path.

Mr. Wei and the others tensed up, shielding Lu Lin, Tang Yuxin, and Wang Menglu behind them. The hurricane's power was so immense that even from a distance, they could feel the fear of impending death. Without their protection, Lu Lin and the others would have been obliterated by its breath.

"This is a Rank Five combat skill," Mr. Wei murmured, his tone filled with worry.

Rank Five combat skills were among the most formidable in Xia Kingdom, their destructive power unmatched.

Mr. Qiao, Lin Zixuan, and the others held their breath, watching Horn intently. In their worried eyes, Horn walked slowly towards Han Qingshan, neither speeding up nor slowing down, as if he were merely out for a stroll.

"Die, you ignorant brat!" Han Qingshan roared as the violent hurricane enveloped Horn, its destructive force obscuring him from view.

Confident, Han Qingshan declared, "My Hurricane Destruction Palm, used at full power, can kill anyone at my level instantly. My cultivation is at the Great Perfection of Creation. Do you think that brat has any chance of surviving?"

He smiled coldly. When a lion fights a rabbit, it must use all its strength. Even though he was sure Horn's cultivation hadn't reached the Creation Realm, Han Qingshan had given it his all, ensuring he would never lose to an unexpected threat.

Han Ziyi was dissatisfied. "Grandfather, after using the Hurricane Destruction Palm, that brat won't even have bones left. You let him die too easily."

Lin Zixuan, Jiang Wan, and the others desperately tried to sense what was happening within the hurricane, hoping to detect any sign of Horn's life. But the hurricane's power was too overwhelming, their senses unable to penetrate it.

Could it be that Horn had really died under Han Qingshan's palm?

"What? You think another miracle will happen?" Han Qingshan scoffed. "Don't hold your breath. That brat has been torn to shreds in the hurricane."

But just as Lin Zixuan and the others were about to attack in desperation, a figure slowly emerged from the dissipating hurricane.

Horn, unharmed, yawned. "That didn't hurt at all. So boring. I was hoping that your attack could at least give me a massage. But you let me down. Is that really all you've got?"

With a casual wave, the terrifying hurricane vanished without a trace, leaving the surroundings eerily quiet.

Horn continued his leisurely pace towards Han Qingshan, who stared in shock. His eyes widened in disbelief, his smile frozen in place. How could this boy be unscathed?

He blinked repeatedly, hoping to wake from what he thought must be a nightmare. But Horn only drew closer, his face twitching, his eyes filling with fear.