C4 I Hit Him Until He Begs for Mercy!

Seeing the thick iron rod swinging toward his head, Ho Liao instinctively raised his right arm to block it. The servant aiming for Ho Liao's head noticed his outstretched arm and thought maliciously, "I'll smash your arm right into your skull!"

A sharp, metallic clang echoed as if two iron rods had collided. After the sound, all the servants were stunned, especially the one who had attacked Ho Liao. He stared blankly at the bent iron rod in his hand, his mind completely blank.

Ho Liao felt a tingling in his arm but no pain. He quickly grabbed the bent rod and swung it at the burly man, who was still in shock and unable to dodge. The end of the bent rod struck the servant's neck, shattering it like ice. A large mist of blood erupted, and the servant's head flew off like a stone from a slingshot, landing on a distant hillside.

Ho Liao was utterly shocked, staring at the fallen body, frozen and unsure of what to do. One servant fainted from the gruesome sight, while another lost control of his bladder, urine trickling down his pant leg and pooling on the ground.

The other servants were equally stunned, standing frozen in place. After a moment, the one who seemed to be the leader, a scar-faced man, snapped back to reality and shouted hysterically, "This little punk killed Old Seven! Let's beat him to death together!"

At his command, four of the servants swung their iron rods at Ho Liao's head. Sensing the danger, Ho Liao swung his own iron rod in a circle above his head. A series of metallic clashes rang out, and all four rods flew from their hands.

The four servants felt their arms go numb, their palms split open, blood spraying out, and the intense pain sent them rolling on the ground, unable to get up. This time, Ho Liao wasn't shocked or dazed; he turned his gaze to the scar-faced servant.

Seeing Ho Liao's fierce eyes, like two sharp swords piercing him, the scar-faced man couldn't help but buckle, falling to his knees and begging, "Spare me, young master! We won't trouble you again, I promise!"

The other three servants, except the one who had fainted, also dropped to their knees, pleading for mercy. Ho Liao looked at them coldly and said, "Just because my sister accidentally stained your master's blanket with blood while working, you want to kill our whole family?"

"Young master, please spare me! We're just following orders; it's not our fault. It's all the master's doing!" pleaded the henchman with the scarred face, looking pitiful.

"Your master is indeed despicable, but without you lackeys, how much evil could he really do? You're just as vile as he is, and you all deserve to pay!" Ho Liao's voice grew colder, belying his mere thirteen years.

"Please, young master, have mercy!" The scarred henchman fumbled around and pulled out a silver coin, holding it above his head with both hands as he continued to beg, "Take this as our apology!"

Ho Liao glanced at the silver but didn't take it. Instead, he asked icily, "How many more of you are there in Mr. Wang's household?"

"There are thirty-nine more, plus a martial artist who's very skilled!" another henchman quickly replied.

Ho Liao thought to himself, "Even if all these henchmen were dealt with, Mr. Wang could still send others to harm my sister. Since I've already mastered some mystical arts, why should I fear a wicked landlord? I might as well confront him and ensure he never dares to harm my sister again!"

Having made up his mind, Ho Liao addressed the kneeling henchmen, "Take me to see Mr. Wang. I have a few things to discuss with him!"

The servants kneeling on the ground exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. Scarface thought to himself, "You little punk, don’t think I’m really scared of you. Once we reach the master’s house, the martial artist will teach you a lesson. You’ll be begging at my feet, calling me grandpa!"

Four servants carried a corpse and an unconscious fellow, following the others as they led Ho Liao to Mr. Wang’s estate in Noucwell. On the way, Ho Liao pondered, "If Mr. Wang is unreasonable, I’ll just have to make him see reason. As for that martial artist, he’s not a practitioner of mystical arts, so he shouldn’t be a match for me!"

With this thought, Ho Liao’s resolve strengthened, and a determined gleam appeared in his eyes. They walked briskly, reaching the outskirts of Noucwell in just over an hour. Though Noucwell was built against the mountains, the terrain was flat, with about three hundred households, nearly all tenants of Mr. Wang. Everyone recognized the Wang family’s servants, who usually strutted around the village with arrogance. They had never seen them in such a sorry state as today.

Curious to see what was happening, a few sycophants quickly ran ahead to Mr. Wang’s house to report the news. Ho Liao didn’t pay them any mind, nor did he look at the onlookers, instead urging Scarface and the others to hurry toward Mr. Wang’s estate.

Just as they reached the entrance of the Wang family estate, a middle-aged martial artist with a burly build and a menacing look approached, dressed in a black martial arts outfit and wielding a fearsome blade. He was flanked by dozens of guards armed with iron rods.

Upon seeing the martial artist, a guard with a scarred face suddenly felt emboldened. He rushed over to the martial artist, almost in tears as he complained, "Master, it's that little punk. He killed Old Seven and now he's here to attack us, threatening to kill the master. I told him you were here at the Wang estate, but he said he would kill you too!"

Ho Liao knew the scar-faced guard was trying to stir up trouble and spread malicious lies, but he wasn't angry. He had already decided that if reason didn't work, he would resort to force. So, he calmly looked at the martial artist and asked, "Are you the martial artist of the Wang family? Do you intend to kill me and my sister too?"

The martial artist coldly stared at the young man before him, his eyes full of disdain and contempt, as if he were looking at an insect. He snorted but didn't reply. Instead, he turned to a guard in his twenties and said, "Kid, I've given you plenty of pointers in the past. Show me what you've learned today."

The guard, referred to as "kid" by the martial artist, sneered and hefted his iron rod as he approached Ho Liao, his arrogance practically overflowing.

Ho Liao couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation. Without a second thought, he swung the iron rod in his hand directly at the young servant. The rod whizzed through the air, stopping just short of the servant's face. The young servant hadn't expected the boy to strike so swiftly and decisively, and he hurriedly raised his own rod to block the attack.

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