Chapter 128: Scars, Shattered and Fragmented

Panic, fear, and self-reproach—emotions that should never have touched this young man—slowly took root within him.

Not far away.

“Lu Qinglian, Lu Qinglian... Tsk tsk tsk, I never expected the Lotus Girl who plays such a beautiful pipa melody at the Crimson Pavilion to have such a lovely name,” Zhao Wenshang sneered, his eyes fixed on the woman before him.

Beside him stood a squad of elite soldiers, dozens in number, personally trained by Zhao Yuan. They held sharp blades and remained silent, motionless.

On Zhao Wenshang's other side, a middle-aged man dressed in white, arms crossed, exuded a thick aura of spiritual energy, launching relentless attacks on the woman opposite.

This man was a guest cultivator of the Zhao family, a Foundation Establishment Grand Master—Zhao House’s strongest cultivator. Only out of gratitude for a past kindness from Zhao Yuan in his times of hardship did he agree to take residence at the Zhao estate.

Before them, the woman was surrounded by a faint circular barrier that thinned under the incessant assault of the cultivator.

Lu Qinglian gripped the jade pendant in her hand, which had begun to crack and fragment. Despair shone in her eyes. Her once rosy, delicate face had turned ghostly pale, her fragile body trembling softly in the night, utterly alone and helpless.

She could not hear Zhao Wenshang’s taunts, nor the clashing sounds of spiritual blades striking the armlet. She heard nothing at all.

Behind her raged a fierce fire, flames consuming everything recklessly, crackling and snapping, glaring conspicuously in the darkness.

The only sound she could hear was that fire.

That was her home, her only home. Though worn and shabby, she had lived there day after day without complaint.

But now, her home was gone—everything was gone.

The army beside Zhao Wenshang had burned down all she had, destroying the very meaning of her existence.

Her parents, who had raised her for over a decade, lay sprawled in pools of blood. She had watched helplessly as the men before her murdered them.

Again and again, blade after blade.

Like demons toying cruelly with human lives.

Now, she had no right even to bury her parents. The fire had consumed their bodies, everything.

For the first time, she realized how powerless she was—without even the courage to resist. She did not fear death; rather, being toyed with by these men seemed worse than dying outright.

But in this moment of crisis, the pale barrier shielded her from the attacks, giving her some protection. Suddenly, fear gripped her—fear of death, fear that if she died, she would never see her parents again, for she could not even avenge them.

“Why? Why do you treat me like this? What wrong have I done?” With a pale face and vacant eyes, Lu Qinglian whispered.

“Why? You dare ask why? Do you know what that little man of yours did? He crippled me! If it weren’t for my brother Wang, a master immortal, I’d still be damaged!” Zhao Wenshang shouted fiercely, his face twisted with rage.

“Don’t be afraid. II'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.