Chapter Sixteen: Spitting Blood!

“You don’t even recognize me?” Yang Ye said coolly, “But I still remember how you and Yang Le drove my sister and me from our home a decade ago. I suppose back then, you never imagined I’d return, did you?”

“Ten years ago…” Yang Xiao muttered, then his eyes widened abruptly as he pointed at Yang Ye. “You—you’re Little Yezi!”

Little Yezi was the nickname people used to call Yang Ye when he was a child.

Yang Ye chuckled. “I’m surprised you remember me. That’s something, at least.”

Yang Xiao stared, taking a moment to study Yang Ye. Ten years had changed him greatly; he looked little like the boy from before. But if one looked closely, the resemblance in their features was undeniable.

The moment Yang Xiao sensed the vast star energy within Yang Ye, his heart skipped a beat, a surge of terror gripping him.

He suddenly realized what it meant for Yang Ye to appear before him now.

There was no need to guess—after ten years away, Yang Ye must have come back for revenge.

He knew all too well what the old man had done to the siblings back then. If Yang Ye hadn’t vanished so suddenly, the assassins the old man sent would have killed him outright. Yang Ye was the true heir of the Yang family; as long as he lived, Yang Haishan’s family could never seize total control of the family fortune.

Only after Yang Ye went missing for over half a year did the old man manage to take over the family assets smoothly.

Afterward, rumors swirled in their social circles, claiming Yang Haishan was cold-blooded and ruthless, that after his own brother died, he’d killed his nephew in his haste to seize the inheritance, severing his brother’s line forever...

Of course, Yang Haishan’s family denied it all, vehemently and repeatedly. It took years for the whispers to fade.

Why not deal with it directly on the estate? Because Yang Haishan still needed a fig leaf to cover his actions.

That was why Yang Ye managed to escape, and why he remained a thorn in Yang Haishan’s side all these years.

Seeing the fear in Yang Xiao’s eyes, Yang Ye strode toward him, step by deliberate step.

Terrified, Yang Xiao kept retreating. Suddenly, he stopped, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a plastic bag containing three beast cores. “Brother, let me go—I’ll give you these. These are planetary-grade beast cores, worth billions of martial coins.”

Yang Ye raised a hand, revealing five deep-blue beast cores in his palm, his expression full of disdain. “Take a look—I’m not exactly lacking in these.”

The beast cores in Yang Ye’s hand were from the sea shells he’d hunted with Long Xiaoqing in recent days. Even as a young dragon, Long Xiaoqing alone equaled a hundred ocean-hunting ships like the Haishan.

Yang Xiao stared in shock at the beast cores in Yang Ye’s hand.

All of them were late planetary-grade. Just these five were worth as much as a year’s profit for the Haishan.

Yang Ye pocketed the beast cores and said indifferently, “I came to you today only to borrow something you have.”

“Say it! Whatever I have, it’s yours,” Yang Xiao blurted, regaining his wits.

Yang Ye gave a cold smile. “What I want is your head. I wonder if Yang Haishan will cough blood when he sees it.”

Yang Xiao recoiled in horror. “No, don’t! Yang Ye, this doesn’t have to be a fight to the death between our families. If you go home now, the old man will be forced to return some of the inheritance to you. Trust me—I’ll even help persuade him.”

Yang Ye shook his head. “When you kill, you must cut the weeds and pull up the roots. If you want to blame someone, blame your father, Yang Haishan, for not getting rid of me back then. I have no desire to repeat old mistakes.”

Yang Ye was not a man of mercy. His master had instilled in him from childhood the need to be decisive and leave no loose ends.

Put plainly, it meant being ruthless, cutting down all threats to the root.

Sensing the murderous intent in Yang Ye’s eyes, Yang Xiao finally cracked under the pressure and turned to flee.

But Yang Ye’s cultivation was far above Yang Xiao’s; the latter never even entertained the thought of resistance. For all his cruelty toward fishermen, he was weak at heart.

In a blur of movement, Yang Ye swept past Yang Xiao.

With a dull, wet sound, Yang Xiao’s head flew from his shoulders.

Yang Ye picked up the severed head, stuffed it into a plastic bag, and stowed it in his storage ring.

“Whoosh—”

Long Xiaoqing appeared on Yang Ye’s shoulder, gazing at the headless corpse. “Husband, you let him off easy. I bet you never heard of the things he did to the fishermen. Whenever the Haishan showed up, the fishermen around here would act like they’d seen the devil himself.”

Yang Ye turned and kissed Long Xiaoqing on the cheek with a smile. “Xiaoqing, you’re learning so much these days—even know about devils now.”

“Husband—” Long Xiaoqing blushed, shy as ever.

She didn’t know why these feelings in her kept growing stronger.

Glancing at the sun sinking toward the horizon, Yang Ye laughed. “Tomorrow is Yang Haishan’s grand birthday. I wonder if, after receiving his second son’s head, he’ll still be able to celebrate.”

...

The Yang Family Estate.

Though the sun was nearly set, the servants bustled about, making final preparations for the next day’s birthday banquet.

In his meditation chamber, Yang Haishan held a crimson beast core glowing with red light, drawing its energy into himself.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and stopped.

A strange, inexplicable sense of dread had seized him, as if some great calamity had occurred.

He had never felt this before.

Exhaling deeply, Yang Haishan abandoned his attempt to break through to the Stellar realm and rose from his meditation.

As soon as he stepped out, the steward, He Shan, approached with a troubled face. “Master, there’s bad news.”

“Speak,” Yang Haishan said coolly.

He Shan clenched his teeth. “The Haishan was destroyed by a stellar-grade octopus. The news came from Liao Kai. He’s too ashamed to see you and has even given up his year’s wages. As for the second young master, Liao Kai said he got him ashore before leaving.”

He Shan finished, watching Yang Haishan anxiously.

Yang Haishan’s face remained calm, but He Shan clearly saw his eyebrow twitch.

Having served Yang Haishan for nearly a decade, He Shan knew his master’s temperament well. Outwardly calm, he was surely seething inside.

It must have taken immense restraint.

“Something terrible—something terrible has happened...”

He Shan was awaiting instructions when, all of a sudden, a young man in black rushed over, panic-stricken, carrying two boxes.

This young man was one of He Shan’s subordinates.

“Xiao Wang, what’s the meaning of this commotion?” He Shan barked.

Xiao Wang, hands shaking, extended the two plastic boxes. “Steward He, these—these boxes contain the heads of Qin Feng and the second young master!”

He Shan’s eyes flew wide. He snatched the boxes from Xiao Wang.

Opening them, he saw, sure enough, the fresh, bleeding heads of Qin Feng and Yang Xiao.

“Pfft—”

At last, Yang Haishan could no longer contain himself. Blood spurted from his mouth as he collapsed backward.

“Master!”

He Shan cried out in alarm, rushing to catch Yang Haishan as he fell.