One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Until he reached the end of the corridor, in front of the door marked "205 Deluxe Suite".

The door was a heavy solid wood door with a gold handle, looking very expensive. However, the soundproofing wasn't good; a young, arrogant voice, clearly intoxicated, came from inside:

"Hahaha! That piece of trash Wang Bing is dead! Finally dead! Good riddance! What a wonderful death!"

The sound was very loud; it could be heard clearly even through the door.

Nie Lingfeng stopped and listened intently.

Inside the room, the voice continued, its tone filled with schadenfreude and undisguised ambition:

"He always flaunted his power in front of me, relying on Grandpa's favoritism to give him all sorts of good things! Spirit Control! Divine Path! Does he deserve it? A brainless spoiled brat, what can he do besides flattery? Now look what happened, he's gone too far, hasn't he? Died at the hands of Chen Duo and Nie Lingfeng, his body never to be found! Serves him right!"

"Young Master is right! Absolutely right!" another fawning voice immediately echoed, "Young Master is just too flamboyant and doesn't know how to restrain himself, which is why he got into trouble. Unlike you, Young Master, who knows how to keep a low profile—that's the demeanor of someone destined for greatness!"

"Yes, yes, yes! Once we capture Nie Lingfeng this time and present him to the old master, you'll be the one who gets the most credit, young master! At that time, all those spirit-binding and commanding techniques, all those divine secret methods, will be yours for the taking!"

"After the old master passes away, the Wang family will belong to you, young master! At that time, those of us who follow you will also be able to benefit from this and become elders or hall masters, yay!"

The room was filled with laughter of agreement and flattery, interspersed with the coquettish words of women.

Nie Lingfeng's eyes turned cold.

Wang Xiao. Another grandson of Wang Ai, and Wang Bing's cousin. Twenty-one years old this year, he is not as talented as Wang Bing, and his cultivation is also inferior, but he is more cunning and ambitious. Usually, he pretends to be respectful in front of Wang Bing, like a dog wagging its tail and begging for mercy, but now that Wang Bing is dead, he immediately reveals his true colors.

Keeping this kind of person around is just asking for trouble.

Moreover, from their conversation, Nie Lingfeng gleaned more information—Wang Xiao's trip to the Southwest was not only to participate in the encirclement and suppression, but more importantly, to take this opportunity to make a name for himself, to impress Wang Ai, and to compete for the resources and status left behind by Wang Bing after his death.

"Internal strife... truly a fine tradition of the Wang family," Nie Lingfeng thought with a cold laugh.

He took two steps back, raised his right hand, palm up.

"puff."

A tiny, crimson flame ignited silently in the palm of his hand. The flame was small, only about the size of a lighter, but its color was bizarre—crimson with flowing, molten gold-like patterns, its core almost pure white. The terrifying heat instantly distorted the surrounding air, and the metal on the doorknob began to glow faintly red.

Nie Lingfeng controlled the temperature and range of the flame, gently pressing the flame against the door lock.

"Sizzle..."

A slight burning sound rang out. The metal lock melted and vaporized rapidly, like butter meeting a hot knife, revealing its complex mechanical structure. The entire process took less than three seconds; the lock was completely burned through, but the flames did not spread to the door panel, and not even the paint was charred.

Nie Lingfeng withdrew his hand, and the flame went out.

Then, he kicked the door open!

"Bang--!!!"

The heavy solid wood door slammed against the wall with a loud bang. The door trembled, and dust fell from the wall.

The room fell silent instantly.

This is a luxury suite with a large living room, at least fifty square meters. The decor is opulent European style, with a dazzling crystal chandelier, genuine leather sofas, a marble coffee table, a Persian rug, and replica oil paintings hanging on the walls. The air is filled with a strong smell of wine, perfume, and a cloyingly sweet aroma of some kind of incense.

On the sofa sat a young man in a silk bathrobe. His face was pale, and his eyes were sunken, clearly from excessive drinking and womanizing. He still held a half-full glass of red wine in his hand, and the smile from his earlier laughter lingered on his face, but his eyes were wide open, staring intently at the gray-haired youth who had suddenly appeared at the door.

He had two young women in sexy pajamas on either side of him. The women were stunned; their wine glasses slipped from their hands, spilling red wine onto the expensive Persian carpet, quickly spreading a dark red stain.

On the carpet in front of the sofa, three middle-aged men in suits were kneeling, all with fawning smiles, but their expressions were stiff, like three comical sculptures.

Nie Lingfeng walked in and closed the door behind him—although the lock was gone, the door could still be closed.

He looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on the young man in the bathrobe.

"Wang Xiao?" he asked, his voice calm.

Wang Xiao's hands began to tremble, the red wine in his glass sloshing and spilling onto his bathrobe. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but only a gurgling sound came from his throat.

"You...you are..." He finally managed to squeeze out a few words, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

"Nie Lingfeng," Nie Lingfeng answered for him.

"Nie Lingfeng?!" Wang Xiao screamed, his voice as shrill as a chicken being choked. He shoved the woman in his arms away and jumped up from the sofa as if he had been burned, his wine glass crashing to the floor and shattering.

"Help! Nie Lingfeng is here! He's here!!" Wang Xiao screamed as he turned and ran towards the bedroom, stumbling and almost tripping over the coffee table.

But Nie Lingfeng was faster.

He moved with lightning speed, tearing through space, and appeared before Wang Xiao in an instant. The Snow Drinking Blade was already in his hand, its gleaming blade reflecting Wang Xiao's terrified, contorted face.

A flash of light.

It wasn't a fancy move, nor a complicated technique; it was simply the most straightforward, direct, and deadly horizontal slash.

Wang Xiao's head flew off.

The face still bore traces of terror, disbelief, and a lingering ambition and greed. His head spun in the air, his eyes wide open, pupils dilated, as if he couldn't understand, even in death, why Nie Lingfeng was there, and why he was dying.

The headless corpse stood frozen in place for two seconds before collapsing to the ground with a thud. Blood gushed from the severed neck like a small fountain, staining the expensive carpet, sofa, and coffee table a glaring crimson.

"Aaaaaah—!!!"

The women's screams rang out almost simultaneously, shattering the deathly silence of the room. They huddled together, trembling, their faces streaked with tears and snot, looking at Nie Lingfeng as if he were a demon crawling out of hell.

The three middle-aged men kneeling on the ground also realized what was happening and tried to stand up, to resist, and to escape. But before they could even make a move, Nie Lingfeng had already moved.

He didn't even use a knife; he simply raised his foot, as fast as lightning and as heavy as thunder.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Three muffled thuds.

Three middle-aged men were thrown backward as if hit by a truck, slamming heavily against the wall. The wall shook, and plaster crumbled. The three men slid to the ground, their chests caved in, spitting out blood mixed with fragments of internal organs, their eyes rolling back, and they instantly lost consciousness.

Nie Lingfeng turned around and looked at the two screaming women.

The women immediately covered their mouths, shook their heads frantically, and tears streamed down their faces like broken beads.

"Don't kill us...please...we don't know anything...we were just called here to keep you company..." one of the bolder women cried, her voice broken.

Nie Lingfeng looked at them for a few seconds and confirmed that there was no "Qi" fluctuation on their bodies. They were just ordinary people, and from the conversation just now, they were indeed just invited to accompany people for drinks and entertainment.

"Take a nap." He walked up to them, reached out, and gently tapped the back of their necks.

The women's bodies went limp, and they collapsed onto the sofa, falling into a deep sleep.

Nie Lingfeng stepped over Wang Xiao's corpse and glanced into the bedroom. The bedroom was empty, only the messy bed and clothes scattered on the floor. He retreated to the living room and checked on the three middle-aged men—they were still breathing, but their injuries were severe; without immediate treatment, they wouldn't survive the night.

However, Nie Lingfeng did not intend to give them a chance to receive treatment.

He took out three "sleeping talismans" from his pocket and affixed them to the foreheads of the three men. The talismans glowed with a faint golden light, and the three men's breathing immediately became steady, but their life force was slowly fading away. Twelve hours later, they would die quietly in their sleep due to ruptured internal organs and internal bleeding.

"Aiding the wicked deserves to die," Nie Lingfeng said in a low voice, then turned and left the room.

The stench of blood had begun to permeate the room and drifted into the hallway through the cracks in the door.

---

Lobby.

Ghost Hand and Blood Blade stopped what they were doing at the same time.

Ghost Hand was assigning tasks to the twelve "ghost soldiers"—how to group them, how to surround them, and how to coordinate their attacks tomorrow. Blood Blade, on the other hand, was wiping his signature blood-red longsword, the blade reflecting his ferocious face.

The two of them looked up almost simultaneously and sniffed.

A faint, yet extremely distinct, smell of blood wafted through the air.

It wasn't the usual smell of blood; it was the smell of fresh blood, mixed with something like... the scent of death.

"The smell of blood." Ghost Hand's face darkened, his voice like sandpaper scraping. "Very strong, very fresh... It's coming from the second floor."

Blood Blade gripped the hilt tightly, a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes: "It's Young Master Wang Xiao's room! Someone has broken in!"

The two exchanged a glance and saw the shock and solemnity in each other's eyes.

Although the Grand Hyatt Hotel wasn't impenetrable, it had sentries both inside and out, and three managers were stationed there. Logically, not even a fly could get in. But now, the smell of blood wafted down from the second floor, indicating that someone had not only infiltrated but had also committed murder!

who is it?

Could it be... Nie Lingfeng?!

"Everyone, on alert!" Ghost Hand stood up abruptly and shouted sharply. "Squads one and two, guard the front and back doors! Squads three and four, search all the rooms on the first floor! Squads five and six, follow me to the second floor! Blood Blade, you take the rest of the men and guard the lobby, ready to provide support at any time!"

The hall instantly erupted in commotion. More than twenty members of the Wang family and their associates sprang into action, some drawing their swords, others their guns, and quickly took up key positions.

But it was too late.

Just as Ghost Hand gave the order, the sound of footsteps, "tap...tap...tap...", came from the stairwell.

Unhurried, neither too fast nor too slow, each step was in sync with the same rhythm, like a pendulum, like a heartbeat, like... the footsteps of death.

Everyone looked towards the stairwell.

A gray-haired youth, carrying a gleaming longsword, slowly walked down from the second floor.

His steps were steady and composed, as if he were strolling in his own backyard. His expression was calm, his eyes cold, like a frozen lake, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. His clothes were clean, without any bloodstains, but the knife in his hand was dripping blood from its tip.

One drop, two drops, three drops...

Bright red blood droplets fell on the stair steps, blooming into tiny blood flowers that were particularly glaring under the lights.

"Nie... Lingfeng..." Someone recognized him, their voice trembling.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze instantly.

Everyone felt their breath catch in their throats, as if an invisible hand had gripped their throats. A cold, heavy killing intent, seemingly emanating from the deepest hell, spread out from Nie Lingfeng, enveloping the entire hall.

The temperature dropped by at least ten degrees. Some people shivered, some started teeth chattering, and some were shaking as they gripped their weapons.