Chapter 46: The Death of Yin Zhan

Blood spurted from Yin Zhan’s chest like an arrow. He fell to his knees, blood gushing from his mouth as well.

“Master!”

“Leader!”

The four great Protectors of the Infinity Sect cried out in unison, rushing forward to check his wounds.

Meng Yuanheng, holding the blood-dripping sword, furrowed his brows in confusion and asked, “You did this on purpose? Why are you so determined to die?”

Yin Zhan’s mouth was full of blood, yet a strange, bewitching smile curled on his lips. “Meng Yuanheng, I have long known this day would come. But if I, Yin Zhan, am to die, it can only be by your hand.”

“Why?” Meng Yuanheng paused, then as if struck by a sudden realization, demanded harshly, “Seven years ago, outside Jingzhou City at the Ghost Fury River—how much do you know?”

Yin Zhan threw his head back and laughed. “Meng Yuanheng, unexpected, isn’t it? The Ghost Fury River massacre you’ve been investigating for seven years—I was the one who set it all in motion.”

“Yin Zhan, you’re inhuman!” Meng Yuanheng pointed his sword directly at Yin Zhan’s chest, his eyes blazing with fury, his face contorted and pale.

Seven years ago, at the Ghost Fury River, he lost his father, his health, hundreds of brothers from the Mo Sect, and one hundred thousand soldiers. And all of this, it turned out, was Yin Zhan’s scheme!

He had suspected as much, but he had never wanted to believe it, always trusting that Yin Zhan still possessed some shred of conscience and would not descend into such madness. But now, with Yin Zhan’s own admission, the truth was undeniable, and the pain was overwhelming.

His whole body tensed, his grip on the sword trembling, his rage boiling over until he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

“Ah Heng!” Shen Qianmo, alarmed, hurried forward to wipe away the blood at the corner of his mouth, gazing at him in deep concern.

What had happened at the Ghost Fury River seven years ago, to make the always self-controlled Meng Yuanheng lose himself so?

She suddenly recalled that, back in Shengjing, she had heard that the former Prince Xuan had died in the battle at Jingzhou City seven years prior, and that Meng Yuanheng had been afflicted with cold poison then as well. Could it be that all of this was also Yin Zhan’s doing?

If so, no wonder he’d lost control.

Thinking of this, she gently wrapped her arms around Meng Yuanheng’s waist, hoping to lend him some strength.

Meng Yuanheng turned and embraced Shen Qianmo’s petite figure, warmth seeping into his heart. With her comfort, the memories of that hellish scene seven years ago seemed a little less unbearable.

Yin Zhan gave a self-mocking smile. “Meng Yuanheng, the tangled grievances between us are beyond words. From the moment I learned of my origins, the two of us were destined to be enemies.”

His eyes gradually turned empty, as if speaking to himself, he continued slowly, “In this world, the only person I truly owe is Yan’er. Yan’er gave so much for me, yet all I ever felt was inferiority and jealousy, my heart consumed by hatred.”

He raised his hand in agony. “You’re right—it was I who killed Yan’er. I am less than human. I deserve to die. Yan’er, you must be so cold and lonely down there all by yourself. Ah Zhan will come to keep you company now.”

With these words, Yin Zhan, in a sudden burst of speed, seized the sword from Meng Yuanheng’s hand and, with a sickening sound, plunged it once more into his own chest. He slowly collapsed to the ground, his beautiful phoenix eyes closing, a faint smile lingering on his handsome face.

It was the relief of final release.

Meng Yuanheng stood frozen, his hand still gripping the sword hilt, momentarily at a loss.

He remembered his youth, training alongside Yin Zhan at the Mo Sect. They had sparred, admired each other, and shared true camaraderie. But that day, in the peach blossom forest at the Ink Manor, Yin Zhan had suddenly turned on him, and Yan’er, attempting to save him, had been killed by Yin Zhan’s palm. After that, everything changed overnight; they had become mortal enemies.

All because one bore the surname Meng, and the other, Yin.

“Ah Heng.” Shen Qianmo’s gentle voice sounded in his ear. He turned, meeting her worried gaze. He laid down his sword and pulled her tightly into his arms, unable to speak.

“Master!” Protector Wuchen let out a wretched scream, throwing himself madly on Yin Zhan’s body. Once he confirmed that Yin Zhan was dead, he slumped heavily to the ground, as if all strength had drained from him.

He glared at Meng Yuanheng, murderous intent flashing in his eyes, and suddenly struck out at him with all his might. But Yun Yi and Chang Dong intercepted him from behind, and the three became entangled in fierce combat.

Though Wuchen was highly skilled, Yun Yi and Chang Dong were no easy opponents. Together, they gave him little advantage. In his desperation, Wuchen caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Wugou, Wu Hen, and Wu Xia, who were hesitating nearby, and shouted harshly, “What are you three dawdling for? If I die, none of you will survive!”

At his words, the three stiffened, exchanged glances, and leapt into the fray. At that moment, Yan Mo arrived with the vanguard, and chaos erupted in the Hall of Infinity.

Meng Yuanheng kept Shen Qianmo close by his side, observing the battle. The difference in numbers was overwhelming, and his own men were all elite. No matter how skilled the four Protectors were, they could not hold out for long. There was no need for him to act yet.

As expected, an hour later, the casualties among the Infinity Sect had mounted, and the outcome was all but decided. Exhausted, Wuchen let his guard down for a moment and was subdued by Yun Yi’s sword at his throat.

He let out a long, sorrowful sigh, gazing at Yin Zhan’s still form on the ground, and a single turbid tear slid from his eye.

“Fate cannot be defied. Heaven has decreed the end of the Yin dynasty. Old Duan, I’ll go ahead. Master, may your journey be peaceful. I’ll be with you soon.”

With those words, he seized Yun Yi’s sword, drew it fiercely across his own neck, and collapsed in a pool of blood.

“A tree that stands out in the forest is sure to be felled by the wind. The Prince Xuan Estate soared too high and made too many enemies. The events of seven years ago were no accident, nor could our Infinity Sect have accomplished them alone.” With his dying breath and eyes wide with fury, Wuchen glared at Meng Yuanheng in hatred.

“Brother, you can’t die!” After the bloody battle, Wugou, Wu Hen, and Wu Xia were all covered in wounds. Seeing Wuchen die, their faces turned ashen; they dropped their weapons and ran about the hall in despair, clutching their heads.

Just as Shen Qianmo and the others were puzzled, there came several sickening cracks. The heads of Wugou, Wu Hen, Wu Xia, and many other Infinity Sect disciples burst open, filling the hall with the grotesque sound of skulls cracking. The scene was unbearable, nauseating to behold.

Even Meng Yuanheng, who had seen countless bloody battlefields, frowned and felt a chill at the sight. He shielded Shen Qianmo in his arms, not wanting her to witness such horror.

The carnage was truly appalling, and Shen Qianmo found it almost impossible to endure. She recalled that, before dying, Wuchen had mentioned “Old Duan,” and she thought anxiously, Could it be that Old Duan is just as fanatically loyal to the former royal family as Wuchen?

She lifted her head from Meng Yuanheng’s embrace and said urgently, “Ah Heng, take me to the Hundred Herbs Hall, quickly.”

Seeing her anxiety, Meng Yuanheng nodded at once. He swept his arm around her and sped toward the Hundred Herbs Hall.

Lightness skill made everything easier. In no time, Meng Yuanheng arrived with Shen Qianmo at the wooden hut of the Hundred Herbs Hall.

Under the cover of night, the hut was silent, broken only by the occasional chirp of insects, which only added to the tranquil atmosphere.

It was as if this place were cut off from the world; the fighting outside did not reach here. Shen Qianmo pushed open the door to one of the rooms—Old Duan’s usual quarters.

Inside, Old Duan sat with his back to her, drinking directly from a wine gourd. On the table was a small plate of peanuts, which Shen Qianmo had prepared for him a few days earlier.

Hearing the door open, Old Duan didn’t turn around. He spoke in a mild tone, “Girl, you’re here. So you haven’t forgotten this old man after all.”