Chapter 11602 — This Old Man Merely Dozed Off a Moment

How in hell were they supposed to save him?

Many among them had ties of profit with Wang Lai; if it lay within their power, most would have saved him.

But the problem was this beast had single-handedly slaughtered every last member of the Twelve Palaces. With the strength they had, what could they possibly save him with?

"Truly not saving him, then? Fine."

Wei Baizhan nodded and at once made to crush Wang Lai to death.

Despair seized Wang Lai. From the corner of his eye he struggled to look toward Wei Zhao in the distance, his face a plea.

Had he known things would come to this, he would have beaten himself senseless before daring to covet the Rule Design Institute!

Was this not the old man eating arsenic—tired of living?

Unfortunately, it was too late now.

Whatever he said no longer mattered; Wei Zhao could not even be bothered to glance at him.

What was more, Wei Baizhan had him by the neck, so even had he wished to beg, he could not make a sound.

Yet just as Wang Lai felt himself about to be swallowed by death, a vast aura suddenly came surging from behind the Night Central Palace, closing in at tremendous speed.

Then Xiang Zikui's voice rang out.

"This old man merely dozed off a moment, and already someone has climbed onto my neck to shit and piss. Truly, the hearts of men are not what they once were."

In an instant, Wang Lai, who had been utterly in despair, seized upon a straw to clutch at.

The rest of the Night Central Palace crowd likewise felt their spirits lift.

As things stood, with only their own combat strength, there was not the slightest chance of turning the tables.

Their sole remaining hope lay in this powerful outside aid, Xiang Zikui.

Xiang Zikui flew through the air and descended into the center of the field.

And in the very first second, he caught sight of Xiang Feng's corpse off to the side, whereupon his expression changed drastically.

"Who did this? Who killed this old man's precious grandson?"

No one spoke, but every gaze turned as if by prior agreement toward Wei Baizhan.

"So it was you who killed this old man's precious grandson?"

Xiang Zikui was beside himself with fury. He at once spread his sleeves, preparing to use the Cosmos Within the Sleeve to envelop Wei Baizhan.

Having earlier suffered a wave of undeserved calamity for no reason at all, he was still injured now, his condition far from its peak.

But against experts of the Inner Royal Court's caliber, he still had them firmly in his grip—it was effortless.

Wei Baizhan crooked his neck and looked up at the sleeve-robes blotting out the sky as they swept down over him, and a flicker of interest kindled in his eyes.

After ten thousand years of bitter cultivation, he had returned to the world, and the Guard Twelve Palaces of a moment ago had been nowhere near enough to satisfy him—at best, they had merely warmed him up.

This Xiang Zikui before him, now—he was a little interesting.

But just then, another voice suddenly rang out.

"Boss! I finally found you all!"

At that rather familiar voice, Xiang Zikui, who a moment ago had been seething with fury, gave a sudden start and instinctively turned toward the sound—and there, a familiar, tall, fat, foolish figure swam into view.

Li Qinghe came trotting over to Wei Zhao's side, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grumbled.

"I thought the Inner Royal Court would be some fine place, but turns out it's just this sorry mess. What a disappointment—not even a patch on our Sinful Nation."

And that was no lie.

After a full ten thousand years of evolution, nourished and assimilated by the new world, the Sinful Nation of today was no longer the barren, vicious wasteland it had once been.

Whether in spiritual resources or in every other supporting amenity, it was no worse than the Inner Royal Court—only better.

Wei Zhao shot him a glance. "Don't go wandering off next time. If you stir up someone you shouldn't, I won't even know where to go to save you."

Li Qinghe scratched his head. "Boss, not to boast, but the experts here are nothing special. Earlier I ran into an old man..."

Halfway through, Li Qinghe finally noticed that Xiang Zikui was there.

"Huh? Isn't this the old man I beat up?"

Everyone in the Night Central Palace looked blank.

Only Xiang Zikui himself turned ashen, and without a word spun on his heel and ran—a sorry, scrambling sight that left the Night Central Palace crowd staring, dumbstruck.

What on earth was going on?

"Dead, dead, dead! How is that fiend here?"

Xiang Zikui was scared witless.

That earlier encounter had left a psychological scar on him that could never be erased.

To be fair, he had met stronger experts within the Inner Royal Court, but for one thing, those true masters generally cared about their dignity and would not lightly strike at the likes of him; for another, he had a decent eye for such things and would never provoke such beings.

But who was like Li Qinghe, with not a shred of decorum, grabbing him in a bear hug and slamming him down the moment he appeared?

If he were slammed like that again, it would not merely be a grave depletion of his vital essence—the grass on his grave would be thirty feet tall.

Only when Xiang Zikui saw that Li Qinghe had not come chasing after him did he finally let out a breath of relief.

Even so, he dared not slacken his pace in the slightest, and went on fleeing at full speed.

He had already made up his mind: never again, not as long as he lived, would he set foot in the Night Central Palace.

As for the thought of avenging Xiang Feng, he had stamped it out of himself completely.

With his status and strength, after all, he could have as many sons and grandsons as he wished; one more or one less made no difference. Dead was dead.

When you run in these circles, who doesn't end up cut down sooner or later?

Perfectly normal.

Xiang Zikui fled like a wild dog, while at the Night Central Palace the scene had frozen solid.

Inside and outside the grounds, everyone was exchanging glances, and for a time no one could make heads or tails of it.

The Son of Heaven asked blankly, "Grand Preceptor, could you explain it to me? I don't understand what I'm seeing."

But Hou Chuang was just as dumbfounded.

Wei Baizhan had butchered the Twelve Palaces of the Guard, and the strength he displayed was formidable to be sure, yet in Hou Chuang's eyes Xiang Zikui was in no way inferior to him; for the two to settle who was superior, they would have to fight three hundred rounds at the very least.

And yet—Xiang Zikui had simply been scared off, just like that?

From the vantage of bystanders like them, no one believed Xiang Zikui had fled because of Li Qinghe; if one asked who at the scene could have frightened him away, by any measure Wei Baizhan looked far more like the man.

Only—this made no sense.

The same bewilderment appeared on the faces of the great lords of the other factions.

No one knew exactly what had happened, but one thing was certain: the Night Central Palace was finished.

The Twelve Palaces of the Guard had been wiped out to the last man, and now Xiang Zikui, their only remaining powerful ally, had fled as well. Who was left who could stand against this Wei Baizhan?

Crack.

Wei Baizhan casually wrung Wang Lai's neck and tossed him aside.

The Night Central Palace crowd immediately grew even more afraid to breathe.

Wei Baizhan turned to look at Wei Zhao. "What does the leader say—kill them all?"

That single sentence frightened everyone out of their wits.

From another man's mouth such words would be a joke, but from this murderous fiend's mouth they were a sentence of death.

Every last man in the Night Central Palace, not one of them would escape.

Wei Zhao was somewhat at a loss for words. "Rein in your killing intent a little—what are you trying to do, frighten everyone to death? I came out to collect a debt, not to wipe out a whole household."