Before long, a beam of light shone over.

In the front courtyard, the main building’s resident of the sect, John Reed, came into the yard.

Seeing the car parked there, he was a bit surprised.

No wonder he hadn’t seen his master’s car—looks like he came back in the senior brother’s car.

At that moment, the main building’s doors opened, and the silhouette of the housekeeper appeared: “Mr. Lu, the master asks that you wait for him in the meditation room for a moment.”

“Alright, Aunt Miao.”

John Reed nodded.

The housekeeper had been with Brian Foster for twelve years, so the disciples naturally knew and trusted her.

He entered the meditation room from the annex.

Incense was burning in the meditation room, mixed with some strange odor, making it stuffy and uncomfortable.

John Reed wanted to open a window for some air, but soon, his eyes were drawn to a martial arts manual placed before him.

“This is!?”

John Reed perked up. “Dragon Form Fist?”

He looked around—his master wasn’t there, no one else was around, and besides...

“Could the good thing Brother William mentioned be that Master is going to teach me Dragon Form Fist? Then it’s fine if I take a look first.”

With that thought, John Reed quickly began flipping through the manual.

And then...

There was no “then.”

Five minutes later, Ethan Clark, masked and tightly covered, entered the meditation room and dragged the lifeless John Reed into the adjacent lounge.

He looked at this master of body refinement and repeated the actions he’d used in the internet café’s private room.

Aiming at his head, sword in hand, he stabbed downward.

“Shhk!”

The sword pierced through.

John Reed’s corpse twitched once, then lay completely still.

Life.

So fragile.

The world of martial artists.

So perilous.

From this moment, all four of Longquan Sect’s Vajra guardians were dead.

After finishing, Ethan Clark waited quietly, occasionally sending messages from William Harris and John Reed’s phones.

A few minutes later, another Longquan Sect martial artist arrived and entered the meditation room.

Soon after, Ethan Clark repeated the process, dragging another body out.

Ten minutes later, a second person...

Another ten minutes, a third.

He simply exploited the information gap and people’s habitual behaviors.

Just like that, he lured Longquan Sect’s martial artists into the trap one by one, killing them all.

From start to finish, he aroused no suspicion.

The process seemed almost unbelievably simple.

“Shhk!”

Ethan Clark pulled his sword from this martial artist’s head.

From then on, Longquan Sect’s leader Brian Foster, along with fourteen registered martial artists, all became corpses, meeting death in silence and, for some, in joy.

“Longquan Sect...”

Ethan Clark shook the blood from his sword.

Then, he left the annex...

Removed his mask and tossed it into the rain.

He strode forward, heading toward Longquan Sect.

Even at night, Longquan Sect usually had more than two martial artists on duty, plus the sect’s own apprentice guards—generally four or five people.

Tonight was special; there were more people present.

When he entered Longquan Sect’s brightly lit main hall, he saw fifteen or sixteen people sitting in the lounge area.

Some were playing cards, some gaming, some watching movies.

Seeing Ethan Clark, they were stunned. A man who seemed to be the leader stepped forward: “Who are you looking for?”

“I am Ethan Clark, acting sect master of the former Tiandao Sword Sect. Tonight, with thunder raging and stormy rain, I have come to Longquan Sect to avenge the extermination of Tiandao Sword Sect...”

Ethan Clark swept his gaze over the group. “Are you going to fight for Longquan Sect?”

Revenge by the Tiandao Sword Sect’s master!?

A martial artists’ feud!?

A sect rivalry!?

This could get people killed!

The faces of the dozen or so people in the hall changed instantly.

...

Tiandao Sword Sect, Longquan Sect, Tianfeng Martial Hall, Four Symbols Sect, and other martial arts forces were not true ancient martial sects.

People came to learn martial arts here either for fitness, for future job prospects, or to have a good start if they joined the military.

The relationship between apprentices and martial halls was purely transactional.

Otherwise, Longquan Sect wouldn’t have only fourteen people willing to become registered martial artists.

Those willing to risk their lives for the sect were one in ten.

Take Tiandao Sword Sect: a month ago, it had dozens of disciples, but after Chris Clark died and Longquan Sect eyed them hungrily, those dozens quickly scattered.

Now, if the fifteen or sixteen people present rushed him, Ethan Clark would have turned and left.

But in reality, after he killed the three leaders, the rest were so terrified they scattered in all directions.

It was foreseeable that once news of the deaths of core martial artists like Brian Foster, William Harris, John Reed, Andrew Cooper, and George Baker spread, Longquan Sect’s disciples would immediately withdraw to avoid being caught up in martial sect strife.

From now on, there would be no more Longquan Sect in Venus City.

“Crack!”

Lightning split the sky!

Illuminating the rain-soaked night completely.

It also lit up Longquan Sect’s empty main hall, and under the harsh white lights, three corpses lying in pools of blood.

The stench of blood filled the air.

The scene was like something out of a horror movie.

Ethan Clark looked up.

One by one, the rooms’ lights went out.

Not long ago, Longquan Sect had been noisy; now it was utterly silent, not a sound to be heard.

Dawn.

All was still.

Only the sound of the wind and the pounding rain could be heard.