The last few days passed quickly. All the sect's top combatants were gathered: five Title Douluos, fifteen Soul Douluos, and eighty-eight Soul Sages—the sect's peak strength.

Ning Fengzhi revealed the imminent Spirit Hunt.

He'd kept it secret so far because he knew that if he told them too soon, everyone would live in constant fear, some might even defect to save themselves.

Now, with nowhere to retreat, learning they were about to be wiped out, these strong-willed people felt only immense anger. What had they done to deserve this extermination? Had the sect committed any heinous crimes? Why must Spirit Hall destroy them?

"Everyone, Spirit Hall sees our sect as an enemy and plans to wipe us out. I ask you—will you just surrender and die, or will you fight?" Ning Fengzhi asked sternly.

"No! The sect's kindness is as great as a mountain—we'll die before surrender!" everyone roared.

"Good! Since we don't want to die or surrender, we have only one choice: fight! Follow my and the elders' commands—tonight, no one from Spirit Hall leaves alive!" Ning Fengzhi's killing intent was as strong as any madman's in the City of Slaughter.

"Xiao Tian, you command the younger generation—they have tasks too." Ning Fengzhi looked to Tianlin.

"Yes, Sect Master!" Tianlin stepped forward. "Ning Rongrong, Gu Ran, Ma Hongjun, Meng Yiran, Oscar, Ye Lingling!"

"Boss, just say the word. I'll risk my life today if needed," Guran said, full of hatred. The sect was his home, and he loved it as much as Tianlin and Rongrong did.

"Good—listen up! From my intel, Spirit Hall's operation has two parts: mid-high-level forces from Soul King to Title Douluo attack the city, while many level-40 soul masters target the villages at the foot of the mountain. Spirit Hall always roots out all survivors."

"These villages have relied on our sect for centuries. Any soul masters born there usually join our sect. We can't abandon them. You six will split into three teams: Rongrong/Meng Yiran, Ma Hongjun/Oscar, and Gu Ran/Ye Lingling. Each leads the younger generation to save the villages—wipe out all attackers, no survivors."

Having lived in the Slaughter City for two years, Tianlin had long shed any misplaced mercy.

Besides, in the war between soul masters, what did ordinary villagers have to do with it? Anyone who attacked them, even if just following orders, was no better than a beast—they deserved death.

"Don't worry, boss. I'll burn them all to ashes," Ma Hongjun vowed.

Tianlin smiled. "Good, that's the spirit. By the way, intelligence says the Elephant Armored Sect is involved. Huyan Zhen, to get his grandson merit but keep him safe, will send him on the safer mission—so he'll be in the village-attacking team. Remember, he has a 40,000-year Emperor Gold Elephant skull."

"Here's a fair contest: whoever kills him gets the soul bone."

"Forty thousand years! That's better than my fire arm. I want it!" Ma Hongjun's eyes lit up.

"Who says it's yours? I don't have a skull yet, and a power-type skull like that fits me better," Gu Ran retorted. Though he already had three soul bones, who would turn down another?

Ning Fengzhi was satisfied—Tianlin's arrangements were perfect. With their current strength, the village attackers were no threat, and the competition for the soul bone would spur them on.

More importantly, by placing them in ambush at the foot of the mountain, Tianlin had thought ahead: if the defenders failed, those below could escape, preserving the sect's last hope for revival.

"Don't worry, Xiao Tian. We won't lose!" Chen Xin stepped forward to encourage his disciple. "After tonight, your name will resound across the continent, not just the sect."

He meant that Tianlin no longer needed to hide—his 100,000-year rings and bones, his second martial soul—all could be revealed.

Tianlin nodded. It was do-or-die now—what was there to hide?

…

Meanwhile, at the Heaven Dou Palace, Qian Renxue paced anxiously. Tonight was the night. She had invited Tianlin, but as dusk fell, he still hadn't shown.

A palace maid rushed in. "Your Highness, a letter from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect."

Qian Renxue grabbed it—it was in Tianlin's handwriting, not only refusing her invitation but revealing information that made her even more determined to wipe out the sect.

The paper fell from her hand as her face filled with despair. Was this fate? The one person she wanted to save had missed his chance.

A figure appeared in the corner, sighing. "Young master, this is fate. You and Sword Prince were never meant to be. Remember your promise: when it's time to cut, cut."

"I understand, Uncle She." A tear slid down Qian Renxue's face, but soon her expression hardened. "Proceed as planned. Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect—kill them all!"

"Yes, young master!" She Long vanished—he was a Title Douluo and would be joining tonight's battle.

After he left, Qian Renxue took out the Yearning Heartbroken Red. Choking up, she said, "I guess you'll never accept me. Though I care about you, between you and Spirit Hall, I still choose to sacrifice you for our highest ideal."

She looked toward Seven Treasure Mountain. "Xiao Tian, I'm sorry. If there's a next life, let's not be enemies. Then, I'll do all I can to make up for this life's wrongs."

If Tianlin were here, he'd be puzzled—he hadn't sent any letter to Xue Qinghe, only a verbal message via Yin Yang. This letter was forged—only a handful could mimic his handwriting and phrasing so well, and Ning Fengzhi was one of them. The sect master was scheming again.