Henry Carter shook his head lightly and said, “A fool is always a fool. You really shouldn’t have… provoked me!”

With his longsword slanting toward the ground, he walked straight into the inner hall.

“Hmph, you don’t know what’s good for you. Today, I’ll make you wish you were dead, unable to live or die!”

Charles Walker’s expression changed. Suddenly, he threw the wine cup in his hand into the courtyard and shouted, “Do it!”

“He even used throwing the cup as a signal… This is just child’s play…”

Henry Carter sneered, a flash of murderous intent in his eyes.

At the same time as Charles Walker threw the cup, suddenly more than a dozen black-clad swordsmen rushed out, their blades flashing like lightning, sweeping straight toward Henry Carter. However, Henry Carter didn’t even look at them. His longsword suddenly swept out, and in an instant, a streak of lightning slashed diagonally, accompanied by countless crisp sounds of “swish, swish, swish, swish.” Those dozen or so black-clad swordsmen were sent flying, each one struck in the chest by a sword, blood gushing wildly.

This sword strike was very ordinary, not some profound sword technique. The sword itself was just one Henry Carter had casually picked up from a blacksmith’s shop when leaving the city—nothing special about its quality. But with Henry Carter’s cultivation at the seventh level of true qi, even the most basic swordsmanship was unstoppable for these street-level swordsmen. No matter how ordinary the sword, in his hands it became as sharp as a divine weapon, its sword energy slicing through iron as if it were mud.

“Swish…”

Charles Walker’s face changed. He hadn’t really expected those dozen swordsmen to take down Henry Carter, but Henry Carter had dealt with them far too easily.

Henry Carter’s sword dripped with blood, slowly falling to the ground as he continued forward without pause. His gaze swept over the places in the manor where swordsmen were hiding, and he said calmly, “I know you’re all swordsmen willing to risk your lives for money, but let me say this: you need to be alive to spend it. If you leave now, I won’t make things difficult for you. But if anyone dares block my way, I’ll send him to the afterlife!”

“Kill him…”

After hearing Henry Carter’s voice, the courtyard fell silent for a moment, but then a loud shout rang out. A black-clad man leapt out first, wielding a sharp blade, its light like a stream of silk, slashing toward Henry Carter. The moment he jumped out, Henry Carter suddenly darted forward, his sword flashing like lightning across the man’s neck. The man instantly froze, suddenly losing all strength.

Henry Carter walked past him without even a glance.

“Plop…”

The swordsman’s head suddenly fell off, blood spurting wildly from his neck, shooting up three meters.

“You… you…”

Charles Walker’s hands and feet went cold, and he jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

“Henry Carter, how could you be so ruthless…”

It was no wonder Charles Walker reacted this way. Although he had prepared swordsmen, he hadn’t really intended to kill Henry Carter—just to capture him, humiliate him, and break his legs. But he hadn’t expected Henry Carter to strike so viciously the moment he appeared. With just two sword strikes, he had killed over a dozen ordinary swordsmen with the first, and beheaded their leader with the second, all while looking completely unfazed.

“Are you leaving or not?”

A sharp light flashed in Henry Carter’s eyes, making all the hidden swordsmen shiver as if they’d been seen through.

“Very well, since you won’t leave and are willing to risk your lives for money, don’t blame me for being merciless…”

Henry Carter said softly, then suddenly his eyes turned cold. In a flash, he charged toward a certain spot. With a “swish,” a sword light slashed directly at a haystack. As straw flew everywhere, blood spurted out, and two black-clad men screamed, their corpses exposed.

After that, Henry Carter fixed his gaze on another spot and slowly walked in that direction.

“You need to be alive to spend money—run for it, brothers!”

Suddenly, someone shouted, leaping out from his hiding place and fleeing toward the edge of the garden.

That shout was like opening a floodgate. All the black-clad men rushed to escape the garden, their fighting spirit completely gone.

They had known Henry Carter was strong and hadn’t expected to take him down easily, but they hadn’t realized he was this strong. According to their plan, even if it cost them a dozen wounded, capturing Henry Carter would be worth it. But they hadn’t expected that Henry Carter’s sword would be as fast as lightning and his killing so merciless, that in the blink of an eye, over a dozen of them had been slain, while they hadn’t even managed to touch a hair on his head.

These swordsmen weren’t stupid. The simplest truth was: you need to be alive to spend money.

After all, they weren’t professional killers with some special sense of duty—at best, they were just a bunch of low-level martial artists who’d learned a few sword techniques and made a living as hired muscle, like street thugs in a previous life. Pay them, and they’d beat someone up for you. But if someone suddenly pulled out a machine gun and “rat-tat-tat” mowed down a dozen people, who wouldn’t be scared out of their wits?

Henry Carter didn’t give chase, letting the swordsmen flee as they wished, and continued toward the inner hall with his sword.

At this point, Charles Walker was already so terrified his face was pale, his hands trembling so much that the wine in his cup spilled all over his chest without him even noticing.

Just as Henry Carter passed by a flowering tree, suddenly a blade flashed out from behind it.

There was still a swordsman who hadn’t fled, hiding behind the tree, hoping to ambush Henry Carter when he let his guard down.

Unfortunately, under Henry Carter’s spiritual sense, every move of this ambush was within his expectations.

“Clang…”

Henry Carter’s longsword gave a slight tremor, knocking the blade from the man’s hand and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Unexpectedly, this swordsman was just a child, looking no more than twelve or thirteen, with a thin face and a stubborn look in his eyes.