Villain System in a Cultivation World-Chapter 51: Nine Familial Exterminations

Ye Long and his kin flooded the central square, greeted by a swarm of frantic clansmen, their faces pale and slick with sweat. "Patriarch, we've been encircled by Divine Spirit Realm warriors!" one cried, his voice splintering like brittle glass, his hands wringing the hem of his tunic.

"Commander Lin's gone—his men, dust! What do we do?" another wailed, gripping his spear so tightly the wood groaned, his knuckles white as bone.

Ye Long's gaze lifted, his blood turning to ice in his veins, a frigid current that numbed his fingertips. The mansion lay captive, hemmed by spectral figures radiating lethal intent, their shadows stretching long and jagged across the square.

'Divine Spirit Realm... as foot soldiers?' His mind reeled, a storm of disbelief crashing against the walls of his reason. 'What force wields such might?' Fear clawed at his chest, sharp and relentless, but he was patriarch—his will could not bend, not yet.

He drew a steadying breath, the air tasting of dust and metal, and called out, "Honored guests," his voice ringing firm despite the tremor quaking in his soul, "I know not how our Ye Family has offended you. Step forth and enlighten us!"

From the ranks emerged a figure draped in night-black robes, their edges rippling like liquid shadow caught in a breeze. Nie You's weathered face bore the scars of a hundred battles—jagged lines crisscrossing his brow and cheeks like a map of violence endured.

His coarse beard framed a jaw hewn from stone, unyielding and cold, while his dark eyes gleamed with a detached menace that sent a shiver through the air. His battalion dipped in unison, a silent reverence that spoke louder than words, their armor clinking softly.

"I am Commander Nie You, servant of Young Master Qin Ting of the Xuantian Sect," he declared, his voice a blade unsheathed—sharp, precise, and devoid of warmth. "I stand as his voice. Kneel to honor his will."

A torrent of Divine Platform Realm power erupted from Nie You, a crushing wave that slammed every Ye clansman to the dirt with a bone-jarring thud. The cobblestones bit into Ye Long's knees as he buckled, the air thickening with a subjugation that pressed his chest flat, stealing his breath.

Even he, a Divine Spirit Realm cultivator, felt his strength ebb, his limbs trembling as the weight bore down. Whispers of "Qin Ting" and "Xuantian Sect" swept through Qincheng like a gust through dry leaves—True Disciple, heir to Emperor Qin, a name that shook the Eastern Wilderness with his meteoric rise to Divine Spirit Realm.

A god among mortals, his shadow now cast from the Skyspire's gilded heights.

Ye Long, breathless and dazed, rasped through gritted teeth, "Servant of Young Master Qin! I had no notion it was you! How have we crossed your master?" His voice cracked, the strain of defiance warring with the terror pooling in his gut.

Nie You's lips curled into a sneer, a thin, cruel line that bared his teeth as he unfurled a scroll with a flourish. The parchment rustled, its gilded seal glinting with Qin Ting's mark—a coiled dragon in molten gold.

Here's a revised and expanded version of the scene, incorporating divine arts (cultivation powers), weapons, and treasures into the Ye Family's desperate betrayal of Patriarch Ye Long and their subsequent slaughter of one another. The chaos is amplified with supernatural flair, reflecting their cultivation prowess:

"By order of Young Master Qin Ting," Nie You intoned, his voice a serpentine whisper laced with silken venom, "I am here to lead an investigation into the affairs of Qincheng and the Ye Mansion. Ye Qiu's defiance has cast a blight upon your name, and though he is no more, the taint of his transgressions festers still. The nine familial exterminations loom—not yet sealed in fate, but a shadow that may yet be dispelled. Compliance could yet preserve your legacy."

His words hung like a guillotine's blade, trembling with impending doom. Behind him, the Death Guards stormed the Ye Mansion like a flood of shadowed qi, their armored forms radiating a chilling aura as they tore through its sacred halls. Walls shattered under blasts of dark energy, jade screens dissolved into glittering dust, and ancestral altars toppled with thunderous crashes. Every hidden chamber and spiritual array was scoured with ruthless precision, as though the mansion itself concealed a secret too profane to endure.

"And yet," Nie You pressed, his gaze a glacial spear that pinned the Ye clansmen in place, "it is not mere defiance we seek. Ye Qiu walked the demonic path, a heretic your clan cradled in its heart. Unveil his accomplices. Deny me, and the price of your silence will be paid in rivers of blood."

Ye Long's spirit shuddered, his core trembling as grief and dread clashed within. "Qiu'er—dead?" The revelation pierced him like a soul-rending sword, memories of his son's blazing aura and unyielding will flashing through his mind—now snuffed out, a star fallen to ash.

But Nie You's accusation drove deeper, its barbs hooking into his faltering resolve. "Demonic path? Accomplices?" His voice wavered, disbelief buckling beneath a tide of mounting terror.

Nie You leaned closer, his breath a frigid gust imbued with malevolent qi, brushing Ye Long's ear like a spectral curse. "Point them out. Prove your loyalty to Young Master Qin and the holy Xuantian Sect, and some may yet escape the abyss."

Suspicion flared among the clansmen, a spark of corrupted qi igniting their fearful gazes. "Demonic path?" a wiry cousin muttered, his fingers tracing the edge of a glowing talisman tucked in his sleeve, its faint hum pulsing with unease.

"Ye Qiu was our pride..." another hissed, his voice a venomous thread as he clutched a jade pendant, its surface flickering with protective runes. "Who masked his darkness? Who cultivated his sins beside him?" Nie You's forged decree fanned the flames, each word a spark that sundered their sacred bonds.

"It's you!" an uncle roared, his voice a sonic boom as he thrust a hand forward, unleashing a torrent of blazing qi. The fiery dragon spiraled toward a nephew, who countered with a shimmering shield conjured from a silver mirror treasure. The collision erupted in a shower of sparks, scorching the air with the scent of burnt spirit essence.

"Lies!" the nephew spat, hurling a storm of razor-sharp wind blades from his sleeves, each edged with the power of his Verdant Gale Art. The elder he targeted raised a gnarled staff, its tip glowing with earthen light, and summoned a wall of stone to deflect the assault, the ground quaking beneath their feet.

Accusations exploded like a breached spirit vein, terror twisting kin into foes. "Traitor!" a son bellowed, channeling his Crimson Lotus Technique into a blazing lotus that bloomed midair, its petals unfurling to engulf his uncle in a roaring inferno. The man screamed as his robes ignited, his own counterattack—a spear of icy qi from a frost relic—piercing the son's chest, freezing his blood in crimson shards.

"You're the heretic!" a sister shrieked, her fingers dancing through a series of seals as she summoned a spectral serpent from her Soulbinding Scroll. The ethereal beast lunged, sinking phantom fangs into her brother's neck, venomous qi corroding his meridians as he howled, retaliating with a desperate slash of his Thunderclap Blade that split the air with a deafening crack.

The square became a maelstrom of divine arts and clashing treasures, the air thick with the acrid tang of spent qi and the shrieks of ruptured souls. Each strike was a frantic bid for survival, a testament to their cultivation turned inward in paranoia. Ye Long stood rooted, his spirit core trembling as his family devoured itself before his eyes.

But the tide turned against him—Ye Qiu's father, the patriarch who had nurtured their "demon." "Your spawn brought this calamity!" a cousin roared, thrusting a hand skyward to summon a storm of obsidian needles from his Shadowsting Array. The barrage rained down on Ye Long, piercing his thighs and arms, each needle pulsing with dark qi that gnawed at his vitality.

"You've doomed us!" an aunt snarled, her Phoenix Ember Fan flaring to life as she unleashed a wave of searing flame. The fire scorched Ye Long's flank, his robes disintegrating as the heat blistered his flesh, the agony a molten brand against his qi-shielded skin. A nephew followed, his trembling hands wielding a Stormcaller Orb that unleashed a bolt of jagged lightning, striking Ye Long's shoulder with a crackling explosion that shattered bone.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

"Cease this madness!" Ye Long roared, his voice a resonant pulse of his Patriarch's Command Art, laced with the weight of his peak Foundation realm. The sound rippled outward, staggering the weaker clansmen, but it was a fleeting reprieve. His kin—his blood—descended upon him like vengeful spirits.

A spear of golden light from an uncle's Sunpiercer Lance impaled his leg, pinning him in place; a cousin's Bloodreaver Chains lashed out, their crimson links coiling around his arms and draining his essence with every pulse.

Steel and qi rained down in a relentless storm—swords wreathed in frost, talismans exploding in bursts of corrosive mist, and divine arts tearing at his meridians. With a final, broken cry, Ye Long channeled his remaining qi into a defiant surge of the Dragon's Lament Technique, a spectral dragon roaring forth to shield him.

But a nephew, eyes wild with terror, swung a Heavenrend Axe imbued with astral force, cleaving through the dragon and severing Ye Long's head in a single, brutal stroke. The patriarch's head tumbled free, rolling across the stones with a dull thud, his eyes locked in a mask of anguish and betrayal, qi fading from his lifeless form.

The slaughter did not end with Ye Long's fall. Paranoia reignited like a demonic flame, and the survivors turned their arts and treasures upon one another. "You struck him first—you're the guiltiest!" a cousin screamed, his Earthshatter Gauntlet glowing as he slammed it into the ground, splitting the cobblestones and sending a shockwave that crushed his sister's ribs, her body crumpling as blood sprayed from her lips.

"He meant to betray us!" an elder bellowed, hurling a barrage of glowing orbs from his Starfall Pouch. The projectiles detonated midair, raining molten light that melted a young clansman's flesh, his screams echoing as he countered with a dying burst of his Shadowveil Step, vanishing only to reappear with a dagger in the elder's gut.

A mother unleashed her Tears of the Moon Art, silver droplets cascading from her hands to pierce her daughter's chest, each bead exploding in a burst of lunar qi that shredded her meridians. The girl retaliated with a final gasp, her Spiritflame Lantern flaring to engulf them both in a pyre of violet fire, their silhouettes consumed in the blaze.

The square transformed into a battlefield of shattered arrays and spent treasures, bodies strewn amid pools of glowing blood and smoldering ash. Divine arts clashed in a symphony of destruction—thunder roared, flames danced, and spectral forms wailed as the Ye Family's cultivation heritage turned to ruin.

At last, only a handful remained, their robes scorched and dripping with luminous gore, qi reserves flickering like dying embers. They fell prostrate before Nie You, thrusting Ye Long's severed head forward, its faint aura dissipating into the ether.

"Mercy, Lord!" a woman sobbed, her voice fracturing as tears mingled with the blood and qi staining her face. "We've purged the guilty—he led Ye Qiu astray! Spare us!"

A man, his arm trembling from a severed meridian, pressed his forehead to the ground, smearing it with the residue of their carnage. "We've proven our loyalty—take his head, take their sins, let us live!"

Nie You's smile was a crescent of cruel triumph, sharp as a blade forged in the abyss. "Very well," he purred, his voice a velvet shroud over the devastation. "You've proven your fealty."

With a sweep of his robes—dark as a void storm—he ascended to the Skyspire, his Death Guards trailing like phantoms, their qi a fading whisper. The broken remnants of the Ye Family wept in their fragile reprieve, their sobs intertwining with the wind that carried the stench of blood, ash, and shattered divinity across the ravaged square.

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Aboard the Skyspire, Nie You knelt before a throne of jade and gold, its arms intricately carved with coiling dragons, their scales shimmering with an otherworldly luster that seemed to ripple in the dim light. Qin Ting reclined within, his tall frame swathed in robes of amethyst, the golden threads woven into the fabric catching the faint glow of floating orbs, casting glints of frost across his form.

His face was a study in sculpted calm—pale and flawless, with high cheekbones and a jawline sharp enough to slice through steel. Every strand of his hair was perfectly combed, gleaming with meticulous precision, framing his features like a masterpiece in a gallery.

His eyes, vivid and mesmerizing as twin sapphires catching the light, held a calculating gleam, weighing every soul before him like coins on a merchant's scale. He sipped tea from a delicate porcelain cup, the steam rising in ghostly tendrils, its subtle floral scent clashing with the distant reek of destruction drifting upward from below.

"All proceeded as you willed it, Young Master," Nie You said, his voice low and reverent, though a dark pride curled at the edges, sharpening his words like a blade's honed tip. "I led the Death Guards to scour Ye Mansion and Qincheng for Ye Qiu's spoils—any relics or secrets he might've hidden for his wretched kin."

"I found nothing of worth," he continued, his tone dipping into a growl of disdain. "The clan turned on itself, suspecting demonic ties as per your edict. They're yours to judge."

Qin Ting's gaze flickered, a predator's glint slicing through his serene mask. Ye Qiu's defiance had festered in his mind, a splinter of wounded pride—a rival who might have clutched some forbidden artifact or technique to challenge his rise.

Finding none, he offered a languid shrug—an elegant, measured gesture, as if a sovereign beast disturbed from its slumber. "A slight pity, nothing more. So be it." His voice, a sonorous blend of silk and steel, carried the unyielding authority of a king for whom the lives of thousands were but a fleeting afterthought. "Reduce Qincheng Province to ashes—let not a single soul remain."

Nie You's face remained a mask of stone, his eyes devoid of emotion, reflecting neither the fire soon to come nor any trace of feeling. He bowed deeper, the tips of his coarse beard grazing the polished floor, then rose with a sharp flick of his wrist. "As you command, Young Master," he rasped, turning to the artillery crew stationed along the Skyspire's vast deck. "Gunners! Ready the cannons! Let the heavens weep and the earth bleed—fire at my mark!"

The crew sprang into motion, their movements precise and mechanical, a chorus of clanking metal and hissed commands filling the air. The Skyspire's massive cannons hummed to life, their barrels—forged of dark, rune-etched steel—igniting with a pulsing glow, a crimson heartbeat of divine fury capable of shattering mountains and boiling oceans.

Nie You paced before them, his armored boots ringing against the deck, his voice rising into a bellow. "Aim for the heart of Qincheng! Leave no stone atop another, no breath in their lungs—unleash it now!"

A low whine built, then erupted into a cataclysmic roar as the cannons fired in unison. Golden beams lanced downward, a cascade of divine wrath tearing through the sky, their brilliance searing the eyes of any fool daring to look up.

Qin Ting leaned forward slightly, his teacup poised in hand, watching the spectacle unfold with a faint, chilling smile that danced on the edge of his lips.

Below, the Ye survivors felt the air shift, a fleeting hope souring into despair that coated their throats like bile. "No... he swore mercy!" a woman shrieked, clutching Ye Long's severed head to her chest, its lifeless eyes gaping skyward, accusing the heavens of betrayal. Her fingers clawed into the blood-matted hair, crimson trickling between them as she rocked, her wails drowned by the oncoming storm.

The first volley struck Ye Mansion, its ancient spires and jade-capped towers exploding in a deafening roar. Walls crumbled into choking clouds of dust, the jade shattering into a thousand glittering shards that flared briefly before vanishing into the inferno. Flesh melted and stone vaporized, the heat a brutal fist that scorched the air, leaving a bitter tang of charred bone and molten rock. Screams rose and fell, snuffed out as the bombardment swelled, relentless and unyielding.

Qincheng buckled under the onslaught. Rooftops splintered and caved into jagged heaps, their timbers snapping like brittle bones. Streets liquefied into rivers of molten stone, glowing a furious red as they swallowed fleeing figures whole, their silhouettes writhing briefly before dissolving into the tide.

A man stumbled, clutching a tattered banner of the Ye clan sigil, only for a beam to pierce him through—his chest burst in a spray of gore, the banner igniting as he fell, a fleeting torch against the chaos.

A mother shielded her child, her trembling arms wrapped tight as she whispered, "We're safe, my love..." Her words frayed into a gasp as a blast consumed them, their forms outlined in ash for a heartbeat before crumbling into nothing.

An elder, his rheumy eyes fixed on the Skyspire, rasped, "Ye Qiu... your shadow has doomed us all..." His frail body shuddered, then disintegrated into a gust of dust, his curse scattering on the wind.

The barrage grew into a tempest of annihilation. Rivers boiled away, hissing into clouds of vapor as their beds cracked open, jagged fissures snaking through the earth-like wounds. Hills melted into smoking plains, their slopes sliding into pools of liquid fire.

Villages vanished in bursts of flame, fields blackened to cinders, forests reduced to skeletal husks that collapsed into embers. The air thickened with the stench of burning flesh, singed hair, and splintered wood—a grotesque perfume that clung to the tongue.

A young lad darted through the wreckage, his hands clutching a broken sword. His eyes, wide with terror, locked on the sky as a beam descended. His scream was brief, cut off as his body burst apart, limbs and blood painting the ground in a grotesque arc before the heat erased even that. The province became a blackened scar, a graveyard of smoldering ruin where life had once pulsed, now silent save for the crackle of dying flames.

Qin Ting set his teacup down, the clink piercing the stillness like a judge's gavel. A smirk played across his lips, cold and amused, as he tilted his head to survey the devastation. "Mongrels, crushed as they deserve," he said, his voice a velvet whisper over the carnage.

He chuckled again, a low, dark sound that rolled from his throat as he traced a finger along the rim of his cup, savoring the sight of the province's obliteration. To him, it was a simple equation: defiance equaled extinction, and he relished the proof of his arithmetic sprawled below.

Nie You inclined his head, his expression unchanging, a hollow vessel carrying out the will of destruction without joy or remorse. The plan had unfurled flawlessly—Ye Qiu's blood had torn themselves apart, and Qin Ting's dominance stood unchallenged.

Elder Liu stood beside Qin Ting, his silver beard flowing like strands of time itself, his aged fingers moving rhythmically through it as if weaving ancient tales. "The Young Master's resolve shines as a pillar of wisdom and power," he declared, his voice imbued with deliberate reverence. "Such unyielding determination will etch its legacy into the annals of history, a warning to any who dare oppose the Qin Family."

Nie You shot a sidelong glance at the elder, his face impassive, betraying no hint of the thoughts that might have stirred beneath. Below their feet, the Skyspire loomed, its cannons cooling with faint hisses, a god-machine sated by the slaughter it had wrought.