Sword Sovereign Against The Heaven

Han Kuan's smirk faltered, and his body stiffened. The sudden voice was so overwhelming, so powerful, that it sent a wave of fear crashing through him.

His mind trembled, and his face drained of color. What is this...?

Before Han Kuan could even react, a shadow moved faster than his eyes could follow. Han Zhen appeared in an instant, his body a blur of motion, like a predator descending upon its prey.

He grabbed Han Kuan's sword hilt with a swift and sure grip, his palm locking onto the cold steel like it was a part of him.

The sound of the sword being unsheathed was deafening. It wasn't just the metal scraping against the scabbard, it was the unmistakable roar of power that emanated from it, a legacy of the peerless Sword Sovereign from the Holy Firmament.

Though Han Zhen had no cultivation at this moment, the aura of the sovereign, buried deep within his soul, roared to life.

With a single slash, the sword cut through the air faster than a flash of lightning. The blade sliced through Han Kuan's legs, severing them in an instant.

"Swish!" The sound of the sword cutting through the flesh and bone was horrifyingly clean.

Han Kuan screamed in agony, his body dropping to the ground in a crumpled heap, unable to stop himself. He landed in a kneeling position, but this time, it was at the feet of the one he had mocked, the son of the man he had humiliated.

"Bang!" Han Kuan's body collapsed to the dirt, the sound of his fall ringing in the ears of those who had been watching, stunned into silence.

The onlookers stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. What they had just witnessed seemed impossible. Han Kuan, who had been so confident, so arrogant, was now kneeling before Han Zhen, a bloodied mess with his sword at his throat.

"Han Zhen..." The words of one of the lackeys trembled from his lips, as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened. "Isn't he supposed to be dead? Wasn't he being hunted? How is he here? How is he... alive?"

The shock on their faces was evident. They had heard the rumors, the accusations against Han Zhen. They had seen his supposed execution ordered by the Mayor's Mansion. But now, here he was, standing before them with a sword in his hand, as terrifyingly alive as ever.

The tension in the air was suffocating as Han Zhen's gaze bore down on Han Kuan, still kneeling, his face contorted with pain and disbelief.

The sword was still pressed against his neck, the tip of it gleaming with blood.

Han Kuan's eyes were wide, his body trembling from both the pain and the shock. He was unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. One moment, he was taunting Han Yan, the next, his legs were severed, and now he was at the mercy of the son he had thought long dead.

Han Zhen's power radiated from him like an unstoppable storm, and Han Kuan, usually so arrogant and full of himself, now found himself cowering before the man he had once ridiculed.

"You're seeking death!" Han Kuan roared, his voice filled with fury as he tried to push past the fear that gripped him. But his words lacked the strength they once had, reduced now to a pitiful attempt at defiance.

Han Zhen's cold gaze locked onto him, and with a single snort, he increased the pressure on the sword hilt, drawing blood from Han Kuan's neck.

"Who is seeking death?"

Han Kuan trembled, the realization of how deeply he had miscalculated setting in. The fear was overwhelming. His confidence drained from him like water, replaced by a profound terror. His hands shook as he pleaded,

"Han Zhen, put away the sword quickly! We are all part of the Han family. let's resolve this peacefully..."

But Han Zhen had no interest in words. "Apologize to my mother!"

The demand was clear, forceful, and filled with the weight of all the years of mistreatment his mother had endured.

Han Kuan, now fully realizing the extent of his mistake, panicked. His voice cracked as he scrambled to appease Han Zhen. "Aunt Han... I was wrong, I was wrong... You're generous, Aunt Han... Please, don't be so harsh with me..."

Han Zhen's gaze didn't soften. He stood there, staring down at Han Kuan until the arrogant youth's words turned to empty pleading.

But the damage had been done. The humiliation, the scorn, and the blood spilled couldn't simply be washed away with an apology. Still, Han Zhen held back from delivering a fatal blow.

He could feel his mother's presence in the background, still reeling from the shock of seeing him alive, and he knew that now was not the time to make a permanent enemy of the Han family.

"Zhen'er, let him go," Han mei said quietly.

"I'll do as you wish, Mother." Han Zhen finally said, his tone softening.