In Big Trouble

Yi Feng initially thought it was bandits coming for revenge and prepared to get up to investigate.

Before he could move, the father and daughter suddenly turned pale.

"Young Master Yi, you mustn't act rashly! This matter has nothing to do with you—we can't drag you into this!"

Without further explanation, the two hurried out of the dining hall, their faces filled with panic, as if facing a formidable enemy.

Sensing the urgency in their tone, Yi Feng followed them out in confusion.

When he reached the entrance, he stood behind a group of servants and saw Song Decai and his daughter bowing deeply, their voices trembling with reverence.

"We pay our respects to the esteemed lords."

"If we have been remiss in any way, we beg for your magnanimous forgiveness."

Following their line of sight, Yi Feng saw several middle-aged men standing in the courtyard. They had fair complexions and delicate features, their eyes exuding an eerie softness.

Servants and guards lay scattered around, clearly injured, yet none dared to cry out—only suppressed fear and reverence filled the air, making the atmosphere unbearably tense.

It seemed these visitors held immense status, forcing even the Song Manor to submit.

Facing the father and daughter’s respectful bows, the leading elder crossed his arms and sneered coldly.

"Song Decai, have you grown a spine of steel?!"

Song Decai turned deathly pale, bowing even lower.

"Forgive me, my lord!"

"This lowly one would never dare neglect your esteemed presence! I truly had no idea you would arrive so suddenly. I am foolish and ignorant—pray tell, how have I offended you…?"

The elder scoffed, his cold gaze filled with disdain.

"Still playing dumb?"

"Song Manor has long been under the jurisdiction of our Heavenly Yin Sect. Without our protection, how could you worms survive? It’s been half a month since the last tribute—have you forgotten even that?"

"Song Decai, it’s true that one enjoys shade under a great tree… but don’t forget to water and fertilize it. Otherwise, when disaster strikes, there’ll be no shelter left. By then, regret will be too late."

The sinister, mocking tone made the Song father and daughter tremble uncontrollably.

Yi Feng finally grasped the situation.

So it was some sect demanding protection money—no different from the mafia in his past life. Bunch of scum.

But seeing the Song family’s increasingly submissive postures, he found it odd.

What kind of "tribute" could make a wealthy manor lord so terrified, even showing signs of helpless despair?

Probably something exorbitant—likely extortionists who’d strip their victims bare without mercy.

As Yi Feng pondered, Song Decai pleaded in despair.

"My lords, please have mercy!"

"Our manor does have modest wealth, and offering treasures to your esteemed sect is only right. But last time, your envoy demanded ten pure-yang men… This matter is simply too—"

"Our servants are mostly ordinary, and even our guards lack pure-yang constitutions. This task is truly impossible! We beg for your understanding. If it’s treasures you seek, this lowly one would never refuse!"

Before he could finish, the leading elder raised a delicate finger and shrieked in fury.

"Nonsense!"

"Your Song Manor has nearly a thousand people, yet you can’t scrape together ten men?! If you fail to deliver the tribute today, I’ll make sure you beg for death!"

"Find the required men at once—I’ll personally inspect them!"

The shrill command turned the Song family ashen. Even the injured servants nearby shuddered in terror.

At this point, Yi Feng’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Holy hell…

What in the actual—?!

He’d thought the visitors were just odd and the Songs were struggling with some exorbitant demand. But no—they wanted men.

And not just any men. Pure-yang men!

This was…

A whole new level of messed up.

The surrounding servants were so frightened their legs gave out, instinctively kneeling with bowed heads. As a cold gust swept through, Yi Feng’s figure was suddenly exposed, drawing the perverted gazes of the group.

His handsome face and scholarly demeanor instantly captivated the lecherous elders.

"Oh?"

"This one seems quite promising…"

"Hmm, bright eyes, white teeth, sharp brows—excellent…"

"And he appears to have a pure-yang constitution. Rare quality indeed."

Their effeminate scrutiny sent a wave of disgust through Yi Feng.

If it were women complimenting him, fine.

But this?

Being praised by these old freaks was worse than being cursed.

A real man like Yi Feng wouldn’t tolerate such degeneracy!

He was ready to teach these creeps a brutal lesson and cleanse this backwater planet’s twisted culture!

But then—

Miss Song suddenly stepped forward, shielding him with outstretched arms despite the overwhelming pressure.

"My lords, please!"

"This young master isn’t part of our Song family! He is a senior with half-step Saint cultivation! I beg you to show restraint!"

Song Yuting was quick-witted and grateful, deftly revealing Yi Feng’s status while using his cultivation as subtle deterrence—a perfectly diplomatic refusal.

Yet the elders only exchanged amused glances, their confidence unshaken.

"Half-step Saint?"

"Pfft—"

"Oh my, and here I thought he was some supreme expert. Just a half-step Saint? Our Heavenly Yin Sect has several true Saints. What’s a half-step worth…?"

"He’s quite the looker, and seems intelligent. Surely he won’t be foolish enough to resist?"

With a coy smile, the leading elder pointed lazily.

"You. Don’t do anything stupid, or you’ll die painfully."

The sight nearly made Yi Feng vomit his breakfast.

Disgusting!

Finally having a decent meal, only to run into these abominations—his temper flared, and he threw a single punch.

BOOM!

A thunderous shockwave shook the manor!

The smirking elders instantly exploded into bloody mist, vanishing without a trace.

The entire courtyard fell deathly silent.

Every pair of eyes stared at the bloodstains on the ground, shock and horror flooding their minds like tidal waves.

Finally, peace.

Only Yi Feng’s disappointed sigh broke the silence.

"Tch… What a bunch of trash."

One disappointment after another—first pathetic bandits, now this depraved sect. Sure, their cultivation was slightly higher than the local average, but they were still bottom-tier.

And the worst part? They were all so damn repulsive.

These so-called "powerhouses" seemed like jokes in his eyes, utterly delusional about their own insignificance. It was giving this planet a terrible reputation in his mind.

His soft sigh finally snapped everyone back to reality.

The Song father and daughter trembled, their faces a mix of awe and terror.

"This—!"

"That single punch… Such unfathomable power!"

"Oh no! Young Master Yi, you’ve killed them! This is a disaster!"

As their cries rang out, the servants also awoke from their stupor, fear spreading like wildfire. None dared move a muscle.

Song Decai, now devoid of his usual composure, wrung his hands in despair.

"What do we do?! What do we do?!"

"The Heavenly Yin Sect has countless experts! How could you kill their envoys, Young Master Yi?! You’ve brought unimaginable calamity upon yourself!"

"Even if this old man wished to help, I lack the strength to lend a hand!"

Song Yuting's eyes flickered with gratitude, but it was quickly drowned by panic.

"Young Master Yi, you've stirred up serious trouble..."

Such was the harsh reality.

He had struck down the intruders, yet no one showed appreciation—only fear. It seemed they had been oppressed for so long that they'd lost all will to resist, even the courage to consider it.

Facing the crowd's terrified sighs, Yi Feng remained unmoved.

"Just a bunch of trash. Killing them changes nothing. If there's fallout, I'll handle it."

What a joke—this so-called "Heavenly Yin Sect" was nothing but a den of scum!

Judging by the intruders' cultivation and their earlier boasts, their strongest were merely a few Saints, hardly worth mentioning. Likely some third-rate sect not worth fearing.

If there were real powerhouses among them, he'd welcome the challenge.

As the crowd took in Yi Feng's unshaken demeanor, their expressions twisted with unease and resignation.

Dark clouds churned overhead, as if a storm were gathering...