Hammer in the Rainy Night, Not a Sword

"Hidden Dragon Ranking?"

This was a rather unfamiliar term to Li Mo.

"That? It's a ranking that records the young prodigies across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths," Luo Yao replied, somewhat puzzled. The boy's knowledge seemed inconsistent—he recognized so many figures in the martial world yet didn’t know about the Hidden Dragon Ranking.

"The list includes a hundred genius martial artists under the age of thirty who haven’t yet reached the Inner Landscape Realm."

She paused, as if recalling something.

"Your sect’s Yin Huacheng barely made it once, clinging to the hundredth spot."

Your memory seems just fine, doesn’t it?

Realizing something, Li Mo silently buried himself in his work, deciding to find time later to change his overly edgy nickname.

Gradually, dusk fell.

Having recorded most of what he needed, he still hadn’t seen any sign of Han Zhen.

The banquet in the hall was just beginning.

......

"For this Blood Phoenix Secret Realm, only Brother Yin Hua is somewhat worth noting."

Bai Jinghong was proud and aloof, but since the Qingyuan Sect was the dominant force in Purple Sun Prefecture and Yin Huacheng had once made the Hidden Dragon Ranking, he reluctantly offered a half-hearted compliment.

But Yin Huacheng wasn’t a swordsman, so Bai Jinghong was more interested in Ying Bing.

"I heard your junior sister is quite skilled with the sword?"

"She’s far from matching Young Master Bai’s prowess."

Yin Huacheng lowered his eyes, sipping his wine, then called out below:

"Junior Sister Ying Bing, since Young Master Bai also wields a mystic artifact, why not represent our Qingyuan Sect and exchange pointers with him?"

Ah, the classic case of forgetting pain once the wound heals.

Would Ying Bing even acknowledge him?

The ice block of a girl was busy tracing shapes on the table with her jade-like fingers dipped in water.

Hmm, the design of the ice cakes she planned to make tonight.

Making ice cakes still counted as cooking, right?

Bai Jinghong’s lips twitched. "Brother Yin Hua, you don’t seem to command much respect among your peers."

"Heh..."

Yin Huacheng’s face stiffened, forcing out a reply:

"Ying Bing is cold and proud, devoted solely to cultivation and the sword path. She’s like this with everyone."

What a coincidence.

Just then, young Li Mo returned, grabbing Ying Bing’s teacup and gulping down two mouthfuls.

After he finished, Ying Bing, as if long accustomed to it, naturally refilled the cup for him.

"This ice cake shape is too weird. It’s hard to lick properly."

Li Mo glanced briefly at the stage, then added:

"I’ll join the banquet later. I’m heading home first."

"Alright, I’ll wait for you."

Ying Bing and Li Mo had sword practice scheduled for tonight.

She knew Li Mo wasn’t really going home.

He was waiting for a certain "fated one."

The heavens weren’t cooperating—torrential rain poured outside.

Leaving his Chixiao Sword with Ying Bing, Li Mo stepped into the storm.

Watching the boy leave, Bai Jinghong wore a mocking smile, swirling his wine cup with an amused expression. His gaze at Yin Huacheng even carried a hint of pity.

In the air, the sound of invisible slaps echoed.

Smack! Smack!

"I must excuse myself."

Yin Huacheng suddenly became the picture of composure.

He told himself:

No need to be angry over a dead man.

The elders were away discussing matters, and Li Mo had left without his weapon.

The manor was a den of mixed company, with visitors from all corners of the land.

Even the weather played along—a night of relentless downpour.

Everything aligned perfectly.

After offering a perfunctory apology, he stepped outside, finding a secluded spot to don a bamboo hat, rain cloak, and beneath it, black robes and a mask of human skin.

Fully prepared, he too vanished into the rain.

......

Crack!

A bolt of lightning split the sky, casting the world in a stark, ghostly pallor.

The roar of rain drowned out Yin Huacheng’s ragged breaths and pounding heart.

Droplets fell onto the few exposed patches of his skin but slid right off, as if repelled by an oily film.

Silent as a specter, he weaved through the woods flanking the main road, his body twisting like a serpent around obstacles, movements swift and eerie.

His vertical pupils locked onto the back of the boy ahead.

Far enough.

He prepared to strike with lethal precision.

But then—the boy turned, his gaze meeting Yin Huacheng’s.

In that instant, Yin Huacheng’s heart lurched.

Too calm.

The boy showed no fear, only what seemed like relief.

"Senior Brother Yin Hua, good thing you’re so impatient."

"Otherwise, I might not have caught you today."

Li Mo spoke softly.

"You were waiting for me?"

Yin Huacheng’s body had already begun its grotesque transformation—his neck elongated, scales rupturing through his skin, eyes shifting into reptilian slits.

"No one can hear you scream here."

"After I kill you, dispose of the body, and leave a Swift Rain Pavilion token behind..."

"Who’d ever know it was me?"

Was he trying to intimidate—or convince himself?

"Funny."

A strangely shaped hammer materialized in Li Mo’s grip.

Li Mo—bringing a hammer, not a sword, into the stormy night.

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Die!"

Yin Huacheng struck first, his body convulsing as if a hundred beasts roared within him.

Li Mo heard a hiss.

Snake? Or dragon?

The aura was primal, a suffocating pressure born of monstrous physicality, not some esoteric martial intent.

But—

Crack!

Another thunderbolt seared across the sky, its brilliance eclipsing all else.

A sound, louder than the thunder itself, followed.

A hammer?

As it descended, Yin Huacheng tried to roar—but no sound came.

Raindrops froze midair before being hurled backward, creating a momentary vacuum.

Sixth Technique of Seven Anchors to Stabilize the World—Calming the Raging Tide.

This hammer strike—

Shattered his core.

Crushed his meridians.

The beastly flesh Yin Huacheng had refined through countless atrocities now turned to dust beneath its force.

He was driven into the earth, bones pulverized.

"Tsk, you really went all out. What am I going to do with you?"

Qian Bufan emerged from the rain, accompanied by Xue Jing.

The old man sighed, shaking his head.

"At least he’s still breathing."

A stomp, and Yin Huacheng was flung from the crater.

He was barely recognizable—more monster than man, his own flesh writhing as if trying to consume him.

"Yin Hua... why go this far?"

Qian Bufan exhaled heavily.

If Yin Huacheng was like this, Yin Huaxuan couldn’t possibly be ignorant.

This suggested the Rare Beast Peak elder might be the true mastermind behind the Hundred Beasts Blood Refinement.

"Back at Moonview Cliff, Shang Wu’s reckless probing almost uncovered the truth."

Xue Jing frowned.

Yin Huacheng’s body was already on the verge of collapse.

Healing elixirs would only accelerate the flesh’s rebellion.

"The Sect Master knows now."

"Li Mo, act as if nothing happened. We’ll handle Yin Huaxuan."

Xue Jing pondered.

The Demon Summoning Cult was unpredictable—they might have unknown ways to relay information.

"Give him a quick..."

"Got it."

Thud!

Swift as lightning.

Xue Jing and Qian Bufan watched the boy retract his hammer, momentarily speechless.

Seemed quick enough.

Yin Huacheng didn’t depart peacefully.

Kid, you never planned to let him live, did you?

......

Back at Eastridge Manor, the banquet carried on.

Bai Jinghong suddenly stood up, exchanging a glance with the elder beside him before resting his hand on his sword and declaring:

"Esteemed guests, the Blood Phoenix Secret Realm is exceedingly perilous."

"Our Hengyun Sword City acts out of compassion and does not wish to see anyone needlessly lose their lives."

"If you cannot withstand three strikes from me, then venturing into the secret realm would be unwise."

His words were polite, but his tone conveyed one thing:

‘Every single one of you here is trash.’

‘What makes you think you’re worthy of competing with me for this opportunity?’

Arrogant? Absolutely. But he had the right to be.

A prodigy on the Hidden Dragon Ranking at just over twenty years old, ranked among the top hundred talents across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths—even in the Great Yu Imperial City, he was a guest of honor among the imperial relatives.

And while he was arrogant, he wasn’t foolish.

Had Yin Huacheng been present, Bai Jinghong wouldn’t have made such a boast. Though he looked down on the man’s talent, he knew Yin Huacheng was no pushover—blocking three of his strikes would be effortless.

But as it stood—

Bai Jinghong’s gaze swept across the crowd like a drawn blade, sharp and unyielding. Most didn’t dare meet his eyes.

Of course, there were exceptions.

Tie Qi stared back, unflinching.

Luo Yu frowned inwardly—if Bai Jinghong stole his chance to show off, what was left for him?

And then there was the ice block.

She was still doodling snowflakes.

A young man strode in from the storm, drawing everyone’s attention—the Qingyuan Sect’s true disciple, Li Mo.

With an apologetic smile, he greeted the crowd, exuding warmth and humility. Anyone would call him a bright, courteous young gentleman.

Who could have guessed he had just harnessed the power of the world itself to crush a cultivator of the Inner Landscape Realm to death?

He took a seat beside the ice block and whispered under his breath:

"What’s going on? Why is everyone so quiet?"