One shot.
Just one shot.
The Believer of Khorne who had hunted Qin Lan, Zou Yun, and the others to the ends of the earth, leaving them with no escape—a foe with a power level of 200—was utterly and physically obliterated.
"He’s... that strong?!"
Not far away, Qin Lan, Zou Yun, and Yin Jing watched the rain of blood fall from the sky. They stared at the black figure standing silently, gun in hand, as if nothing had happened. Their pupils constricted violently, and their minds went blank.
They hadn’t seen him in over three years...
Qin Feng... he had grown even stronger than the last time they met!
So strong that he had reached a terrifying, incomprehensible level they could no longer fathom!
’Easily killing a Believer of Khorne with a life force index of 200?’
’And this was a Believer of Khorne, no less! They were known for being fearless in the face of death, masters of slaughter, and possessing the most tenacious Combat Will!’
’And he was killed in a single shot, just like that?!’
Qin Feng paid no mind to their stunned gazes. He gave them a casual gesture, then opened his mission interface and completed the mission.
Once he was done, he spoke into the team channel. "Everyone, follow me back to the pirate camp. We need to check for any stragglers who might have just returned. We’ll eliminate them all to prevent any future problems."
His voice snapped them out of their daze, and they all nodded in agreement.
As they looked at Qin Feng, their eyes held not only the gratitude of survivors but, even more so, a deep, heartfelt reverence for an absolute powerhouse.
A tall young Martial Artist in damaged power armor stepped out from the crowd and looked at Qin Feng. "S-Senior," he asked cautiously, his tone a mixture of admiration and nervousness, "what’s... what’s your name?"
’Senior?’
Qin Feng froze for a moment when he heard that.
’So I’m old enough to be called ’Senior’ now?’
He was silent for a moment before uttering two words.
"Qin Feng."
...
Soon, the group returned to the pirate camp, a place steeped in blood and sin.
When Qin Feng stepped inside again, he found that the Female Martial Artists whose chains he had broken had not left.
They remained where they were, sitting in a helpless daze, letting the cold wind whip across their naked, scar-covered bodies.
Qin Feng had broken the chains that bound their bodies, but he could not break the shackles of despair and humiliation that had long since taken root in their hearts.
They saw that Qin Feng had returned.
They also saw that the Martial Artists in the Fearless Warband power armor, the ones who had been so desperately hunted, had also returned safely.
In their hollow, numb eyes, a glimmer of light—of color—finally and slowly began to dawn.
One of the Female Martial Artists, who appeared to be the eldest, struggled to her knees before Qin Feng.
"May I be so bold as to ask your name, my lord?"
Her voice was as ragged as torn fabric.
"Qin Feng."
"Thank you... Lord Qin Feng, for saving us..."
The Female Martial Artist kowtowed deeply to Qin Feng, her forehead striking the ground heavily.
Two streams of murky tears flowed down her face, but the corners of her mouth curved into a smile of relief and release.
"May my soul return to the Emperor’s protection. In the next life... I will repay Lord Qin Feng."
With that said, before everyone’s shocked eyes, she unhesitatingly reversed a faint stream of her Spiritual Energy and shattered her own heart.
"May my soul return to the Emperor’s protection. In the next life... I will repay Lord Qin Feng."
Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, every surviving Female Martial Artist who had been rescued smiled, and in the exact same manner, ended their lives—lives that had long been defiled and filled with nothing but pain and humiliation.
They had chosen suicide.
Qin Feng stood silently, watching the scene unfold without moving.
Everyone fell silent.
With their power, any one of them could have instantly stopped these far weaker Female Martial Artists from taking their own lives.
But none of them moved.
Because in the eyes of those women, they saw a resolve more unyielding than death itself, a complete loathing for this filthy world, and an endless yearning for release.
The horrific torture they had endured was far beyond anyone’s imagination.
For them, death was perhaps the best end.
The entire camp fell into a dead silence.
All that remained was the cold, blood-tinged wind, wailing and circling over the desolate plains as if to play a mournful dirge for these withered souls.