10,000x Cultivation: I Gain Power by Adopting Training Acolytes

"Senior Brother!" Wu Xiaopang rushed forward as Xu Ming's eyelids fluttered open.

"Where...?" The youth groaned, clutching his miraculously healed shoulder.

"Safe," Zhang Yun's voice cut through the haze. "They're dealt with."

Xu Ming jerked upright, gaze locking onto the bound prisoners. His breath hitched. "Lin Shi!"

The name tore from his throat like a war cry. Lin Shi squirmed backward, aristocratic facade crumbling under primal terror.

"Master," Xu Ming's voice trembled with decades of bottled rage. "These vermin stole my spiritual root. Murdered my parents."

Zhang Yun's blade materialized in his palm. "Then finish it."

The sword's hilt pressed into Xu Ming's palm—cold, heavy, alive with humming energy.

Lin Shi's bravado resurged. "Kill me, and the Lin Clan will—"

Schlikt!

Steel pierced his collarbone. Xu Ming twisted the blade, crimson rivulets tracing the engraved dragon pattern. "This is for blinding me to your venom."

The nobleman's scream curdled into wet gurgles as the sword withdrew, then plunged again. "This repays the stolen root."

When the third strike pinned Lin Shi's corpse to an ancient cedar, the forest fell silent. Xu Ming's ragged breaths fogged the blood-slicked steel. "The rest will follow. Every. Last. One."

Zhang Yun observed his disciple's trembling shoulders—not from weakness, but the earthquake of unleashed fury. He produced an obsidian case. "Let this blade drink their hearts."

As Xu Ming reverently stored the weapon, Wu Xiaopang gaped at the transformed senior brother. The timid scholar had vanished, replaced by something feral gleaming beneath moonlight.

"Master..." Xu Ming's voice steadied. "I need—"

"Power?" Zhang Yun tossed him Lin Shi's spatial ring. "Start by claiming what's yours."

The trio moved like wraiths through gore-strewn clearing. Zhang Yun paused abruptly, flying sword severing a cedar in explosive splinters. A hare bolted through the debris.

"False alarm," he muttered, though his knuckles whitened around the hilt.

Miles away, translucent ripples coalesced into white-robed observer. "Not entirely ineffective," the figure mused, studying Zhang Yun through jade lenses. "But adjustments are required."

Back at camp, Zhang Yun sorted through plundered treasures. Five storage rings spilled forth crystalline medicine pills and spirit stones glowing like captive stars. His fingers lingered on a tracking mirror—three pulsing dots mirroring their wristbands.

"Elegant," he murmured. "The Lin Clan shouldn't play with fire."

Wu Xiaopang's shout shattered the moment. "Master! This one's still twitching!"

The "corpse" in question spasmed—a Golden Core elder missing three limbs, eyes rolling in pain-maddened sockets. Zhang Yun's smile chilled the night air.

"Excellent. We require... information."