The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 108

"you!"

Murong Long finally spoke. His hoarse voice was exceptionally clear in the hall: "Repeat to me every word and every detail of what you just said, exactly as it was."

His tone was not questioning, nor doubtful, but rather commanding, unquestionable, and with an absolute thirst for the truth.

A bead of cold sweat seeped out from the back of Wang Yuyan's neck.

But she was, after all, Wang Yuyan, the Wang Yuyan who wanted to avenge her cousin. She took a deep breath.

Forcibly suppressing the pounding in her heart, her bloodshot eyes once again filled with just the right amount of glistening tears.

She recounted the story again in a more poignant, detailed, and evocative tone.

This time, however, she devoted more ink to describing Wang Meng's inhuman martial arts and his cruel and domineering methods, attempting to draw all the old monster's attention to hatred in this way.

Murong Long listened quietly, his face, as smooth as withered tree bark, remaining calm and composed.

Only after Wang Yuyan finished speaking, gently pressed her handkerchief to the corner of her eye, and let out a suppressed, pitiful sob, did he speak again slowly.

"So, my good-for-nothing grandson was beaten to death in front of everyone just to steal a martial arts technique that he couldn't possibly master?"

His voice remained calm, so calm it was infuriating.

But these words stunned everyone, including Wang Yuyan.

There was not a trace of anger for revenge for his grandson in his words. Instead, there was a faint, cold disappointment in Murong Fu for his "lack of skill" and "overestimation of his abilities".

"not only that!"

Wang Yuyan's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly added, "That Wang Meng even threatened to..."

"enough!"

Murong Long interrupted her, his lifeless eyes narrowing slightly, a sharp glint flashing across them like that of a hawk.

He turned around, no longer looking at Wang Yuyan, but facing the group of clansmen in the hall who dared not even breathe, his voice hoarse.

Suddenly, it improved by several points, like two rusty iron pieces rubbing against each other.

"A bunch of trash!

Your clan leader was attacked and killed, and you're still angry about a 'title' and 'reason'!

What's your anger worth?

"Can you kill someone?"

"The ancestors of the Great Yan Kingdom did not want your cheap tears and incompetent rage!"

"What they want is victory!"

It was a victory achieved at any cost, by any means necessary…!

Suddenly, he flicked his dry sleeve, and an invisible yet extremely sharp gust of wind howled out!

"Give me the order!"

His cold voice, like law, echoed throughout the hall.

"From this day forward, I shall once again assume the position of head of the Murong family!"

"All tribesmen, heed my command!"

"Deng Baichuan!"

"The old slave is here!"

"Gather all the secret forces and assassins of the Murong clan! Everyone in the manor who can wield a blade, regardless of age or gender, shall be a soldier!"

"Also, quickly send someone with my token to Tianlong Temple in Dali and Yipintang in Xixia... and tell them."

I'm back!

Let them fulfill the promise they made back then!

"And...you too."

Murong Long slowly turned his head back, and his lifeless eyes once again locked onto Wang Yuyan's pale yet exquisitely beautiful face.

"Your grudge is also the grudge of my Murong family."

But from this moment on, your life, and you yourself, are both tools of the Murong family…

"What you need to do is use your face and your intelligence to win over all the allies that the Murong family can get..."

"I don't care what method you use."

For the first time, a gaunt, sinister smile, more painful than a grimace, appeared on his pale face.

Even if it's... with your body!

Before the words had even finished, the entire Canhe Village suddenly began to shake violently!

That's not an illusion.

It was a dull yet violent tremor originating from the depths of the earth!

The heavy tables in the hall were shaking.

The lanterns hanging from the beams swayed wildly, stretching everyone's shadows into ghostly shapes.

Even the thick walls, built of massive stones, were creaking and groaning under the weight of the load.

"what happened?!"

"Has the earth dragon turned over?"

The Murong clansmen in the hall were instantly thrown into chaos.

In terror, they grabbed each other for support, trying to steady themselves.

However, before they could even react to the sudden tremor, a terrifying heat wave, hot enough to set a person's hair ablaze, carrying an overwhelmingly strong and pungent smell of sulfur and tung oil, poured wildly in from the direction of the door!

Immediately, the towering flames, like an ancient fire demon awakened, opened its enormous maw to devour everything, and with an unstoppable and extremely violent force, completely engulfed the entire gate of Xingfu Hall, along with the open courtyard outside!

"boom!"

A deafening roar, a hundred times louder than the previous earthquake, exploded out!

That massive door, crafted from century-old ironwood and capable of withstanding the onslaught of thousands of troops, was instantly blasted into countless fragments by the violent shockwave, just like a sheet of paper!

Countless burning pieces of wood, mixed with molten iron hot enough to melt a person, shot wildly into the hall like a meteor shower!

"what!"

The guards of the Murong family closest to the entrance were torn apart and set ablaze in an instant by the oncoming flames and shrapnel before they could even let out a complete scream!

Their bodies looked like wax figures thrown into a steel furnace.

In an instant, they turned into charred, smoky humanoid figures.

Falling to the ground!

This sudden and extremely tragic scene completely stunned everyone!

They stared blankly at the gate, completely sealed off by flames and thick smoke, and at their companions still writhing and burning on the ground, their minds a complete blank.

In the midst of this deathly silence, filled with the stench of burning flesh and despair, a leisurely voice, tinged with a hint of mockery, as if strolling in one's own backyard, pierced through the raging fire wall and clearly reached the ears of every survivor.

"Listen up, you old dogs and little dogs of the Murong family."

"Your grandfather, Wang Meng, is here to collect the rent."

"Today's rent is...your life!"

Chapter 50: So, we have to eat first, and we can only eat our fill!

Wang Meng wasn't a chemistry major, and he certainly didn't think he could conjure up any incredibly powerful explosives by hand.

He also couldn't build those bronze cannons that could flatten mountains.

Fortunately, although this world is backward.

But the weapons of war belonging to this era were plentiful.

At this very moment, on the surface of Taihu Lake outside Canhezhuang.

A massive, strangely shaped fleet of ships.

All waterways leading to the island have been completely blocked.

Dozens of huge, flat-bottomed sand barges, like mobile fortresses.

On the lake's surface, a cold, death-laden crescent-shaped array stretched out.

On the deck of each sand barge, one or two huge, menacing war machines—catapults—were prominently mounted, exuding a strong smell of wood and tung oil!

These catapults were slightly smaller than the heavy weapons in the army that required dozens of people to pull them out, but they still possessed the terrifying power to throw boulders weighing tens of kilograms hundreds of paces away.

At this moment, what was being carefully placed into the giant "wooden spoon" of the catapult by the maids dressed in black was not cold stone.

It was ammunition.

A Mongolian remedy, an extremely vicious one.

The maids carried rough earthenware jars, each about the size of a human head, onto the deck.

These jars were already stuffed with bright yellow sulfur powder that emitted a pungent odor, and then thick, flammable tung oil was poured in until they were full.

Immediately, another group of maids stepped forward and used melted beeswax to seal the mouth of the earthenware jar tightly.

Finally, the entire earthenware jar was wrapped tightly with a thick cotton cloth soaked in vegetable oil.

Only a long, flammable fuse was left out.

Once these preparations were completed in a ruthless yet efficient, assembly-line-like manner, a maid in charge, expressionless, raised the command flag in her hand.

"ignition!"

A cold voice rang out, and dozens of maids simultaneously held their torches to the fuses of the earthenware jars.

"laugh--!"

The flames instantly spread along the oil-soaked cotton cloth and quickly ignited!

In just a few breaths, the entire pottery jar transformed into a huge, blazing fireball!