"Just who on earth are you?!" The Mountain Demon, a husk of his former self, lay sprawled on the blood-soaked earth as he uttered with desperation. His pale face, betrayed the utter defeat that gripped him. He knew escape was impossible, his fate sealed by the masked figure standing before him. His breaths, ragged and shallow, broke the tense silence. "Someone who can end you," the Ghost Faced Masked Man replied, his voice a low, steady rumble that held the weight of finality. He tilted his head, his masked gaze shifting to Yue'er, who remained nestled in his arm. "Little one, how would you have him meet his end?" Yue'er, her brow furrowed in thought, tilted her head, her delicate features a stark contrast to the brutality of the scene. After a moment of contemplation, her soft voice, surprisingly firm, echoed through the air. "He tried to eat us. So, someone should pull out his teeth, snap his tendons, destroy his cultivation, and then throw him to the wolves." A collective shiver ran through the onlookers. The delicate girl, a vision of innocence, had just delivered a verdict of chilling cruelty. They stared at her, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "As you wish," the masked man said, his tone devoid of emotion. With a casual flick of his wrist, he obliterated the Mountain Demon's cultivation, eliciting a raw, guttural scream of agony. He then turned his attention to a trembling disciple of the Black Mountain Sect. "You. Pull out his teeth, break his tendons, and deliver him to the wolves." "I... I can't," the disciple stammered, his legs buckling beneath him. His face, drained of color, mirrored the terror that gripped his soul. He glanced at the chaotic scene unfolding around him: wolves tearing into the flesh of his former allies, the ground slick with blood. The masked man, however, remained untouched, a silent sentinel amidst the carnage. "Do as I say, and you will live," the Ghost Faced Masked Man stated, his voice a low, menacing promise. "Refuse, and you will suffer a far worse fate." The disciple, his body trembling uncontrollably, looked up, a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. "If I do it... I will live?" "Yes," the Ghost Faced Masked Man confirmed. "I will spare you." "Alright, I will do it! I will do it!" The disciple exclaimed, his voice filled with a newfound resolve. The prospect of survival, however slim, ignited a spark of determination within him. He approached the Old Predecessor, his hands trembling. "Forgive me, Old Predecessor," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "I have no choice." He forced the Old Predecessor's mouth open, his hands moving with a grim efficiency. One by one, he extracted the man's teeth, each pull accompanied by a muffled groan of pain. The Mountain Demon's face, once a mask of cruel power, now resembled a grotesque caricature, his mouth a bloody ruin. With his cultivation destroyed, he appeared frail and ancient, on the verge of death. The disciple then proceeded to sever the tendons in the Mountain Demon's hands and feet, rendering him utterly helpless. The once-powerful man could no longer even muster a scream, his body a broken, lifeless husk. The disciple, his face pale but resolute, lifted the limp body and, with a final, forceful heave, tossed it into the midst of the ravenous wolves. A wave of revulsion and morbid fascination washed over the onlookers. They watched the disciple, their expressions a mix of horror and grudging understanding. In their hearts, they knew that, faced with the same choice, they might have made the same desperate bargain. "I have done as you commanded, Senior," the disciple said, his voice trembling as he bowed before the masked man.