Chapter 277: Young Master Kong

Is that Kong Sheng, the Kong family's young master, still not dead...

Mo Hua felt curious, so he followed the fat cultivator out the door, sneaking quietly behind him.

The fat cultivator remained oblivious, carrying the food box, muttering under his breath as he walked.

"I went through hell just to get into this Great Heishan stronghold—did I come here to deliver meals for them?"

"Fine, don't let me learn demonic arts, but why won't you let me do any real work? All I do every day is deliver meals to these useless wastes."

"Damn, a bunch of ignorant bastards..."

"Out there, my name was well-known..."

Mo Hua understood: the fat cultivator resented his own unappreciated talent.

He believed Great Heishan stronghold was blind—refusing to let him practice demonic arts or go raid and kill, forcing him instead to deliver meals and do menial chores, hence his bitterness.

Mo Hua silently sneered.

Truly, mud can't be made into a wall; a dog's mouth won't spit out ivory; rotten wood can't be carved.

He does nothing proper, only thinks of harming others.

The fat cultivator muttered as he walked down several paths, turned several corners, and arrived before a secluded hut, knocking on the iron door.

"Young Master Kong, it's mealtime."

The fat cultivator said, then dumped the food into the large bowl before the door like feeding pigs, sliding the bowl through the gap beneath the door.

The fat cultivator turned to leave after delivering the meal.

But a sharp young voice came from inside.

"Don't you dare leave!"

The fat cultivator frowned. Other demonic cultivators barking orders at him was one thing—but this Kong Sheng was just a piglet, yet dared speak to him like this?

The fat cultivator pulled at his lips, forcing patience: "Young Master Kong has something to say?"

Kong Sheng hurriedly asked: "My father—has he sent a reply?"

"I don't know."

"It's been so long—he must be coming to ransom me."

Behind the iron door, Kong Sheng's voice sounded muffled yet anxious.

"Are you saying the spirit stones are too few? I'll add more—six thousand... no, eight thousand!"

"Just let me out, give me a way to live."

"Any amount of spirit stones—I'm sure my father will pay you!"

At the mention of spirit stones, the fat cultivator's eyes flickered with interest: "Is what Young Master Kong says true?"

"True! True!" Kong Sheng inside seemed to be nodding frantically, "Just let me out!"

Kong Sheng paused, then remembered something and asked: "Are you new here?"

The voice of this meal-delivery cultivator sounded unfamiliar to him.

The fat cultivator's gaze sharpened slightly, then slowly replied: "Yes."

Kong Sheng felt he understood.

Since he was new, and still delivering meals, he must be lowly—like a servant in his own household.

Kong Sheng said: "Secretly deliver a message to my father—he'll reward you handsomely."

The word "reward" made the fat cultivator bristle.

He preferred "take," not "be given."

"Does the young master have proof?"

Kong Sheng slid a jade pendant through the door crack: "This pendant was given to me by my father—it's worth five hundred spirit stones. Take it to him, and he'll understand."

The fat cultivator took the pendant, his expression satisfied, then asked: "What message do you want me to deliver?"

Kong Sheng lowered his voice: "My father is a Foundation Establishment cultivator! Tell him to sneak in with men, wipe out this stronghold, kill them all. When it's done, you can join the Kong family—I'll have my father grant you the Kong surname, make you a steward—no, make you an elder!"

Not just Mo Hua—even the fat cultivator was stunned.

Could there really be someone this stupid in the world?

What on earth had his father taught him?

Did he truly believe the Kong family was invincible, that he could get away with anything forever?

The fat cultivator slipped the pendant into his robe, flattering: "Young Master, rest assured—I'll deliver your message."

"Good! Good!" Kong Sheng was overjoyed.

The fat cultivator's face twisted with mockery, but Kong Sheng couldn't see through the iron door.

"Young Master Kong, stay put and behave. Before it's done, don't even think of running—otherwise, the demonic cultivators here, enraged, will kill you."

The fat cultivator pretended to warn him.

Kong Sheng said: "Don't worry, I won't run. Hurry and deliver the message."

The fat cultivator sneered, turned, and walked off; halfway, he spat toward the iron door and muttered:

"What a piece of trash—so damn stupid!"

Mo Hua saw his expression and knew he'd stolen the pendant but would do nothing—gaining five hundred spirit stones for nothing.

Mo Hua shook his head, quietly climbed onto the wall, checked the surroundings were empty, dismantled the rooftop array, removed a tile, and peered inside stealthily.

The room inside was plain and shabby.

By the door stood a young cultivator, dressed in luxurious robes now torn and ragged, clearly having endured much hardship.

He must be Kong Sheng, the legitimate-line young master of the Kong family.

Mo Hua couldn't help muttering:

"Good people die young, evil ones live forever. Kong Sheng's luck is incredible—he's this stupid and still alive in the hands of demonic cultivators."

He then sighed with feeling — what on earth had the Kong family taught him? How could his head be filled with nothing but mush?

He even thought of rewarding the evil cultivators with spirit stones, asking them to do his bidding.

The best they could do for you was throw you a bowl of rice and spare your life.

Mo Hua muttered this to himself, but saw Kong Sheng suddenly fly into a rage.

Kong Sheng picked up his rice bowl, took a few bites, made as if to retch, then forced himself to swallow it down.

Then a surge of fury and pent-up grievance welled up in his heart.

He threw and smashed things, flailing his fists and feet, venting his anger with a savage expression, cursing all the while:

"You all deserve to die! You all fucking deserve to die!"

"What kind of things are you, climbing on this young master's head, and I still have to ask you to do things — go to hell!"

He seemed to recall again all the wretched moments, the indignities, the shames of this journey.

He recalled how, to stay alive, he had knelt to those evil cultivators, weeping as he told them he was a young master of the Kong family, begging them to spare his life.

He recalled the mockery and laughter on the evil cultivators' faces.

Kong Sheng could not help but turn red-eyed, growling in a low voice:

"It's all that bastard surnamed Ji, father and son!"

"If you hadn't provoked me, I wouldn't have thought to kill you, wouldn't have left the city, and wouldn't have ended up in this state!"

"And that Fu Lan — just a cheap woman! With a bit of looks, what is she pretending to be so pure for? How dare she refuse me!"

"Once I get my hands on you, I'll make you wish you were dead!"

"And these evil cultivators too — humiliating me like this, looking down on me — you all have to die!"

"All of you have to die!"

……

Kong Sheng's expression was hysterical.

Mo Hua listened, but gradually frowned.

It was clearly his own wrongdoing, his own fault from the start, that had brought him to this state — yet he always felt everyone else was at fault.

And his desire for revenge was so strong, his nature so vicious.

"Looks like before I leave, I need to find a way to make sure Kong Sheng stays in this Great Heishan Shanzhai forever."

Mo Hua silently mulled it over.

Bad people should stay where bad people belong.

Kong Sheng and this Great Heishan Shanzhai — quite a match, really.

But first he had to finish drawing the map.

Two days later, the map of Great Heishan Shanzhai was seventy or eighty percent done, and Mo Hua was getting a little hungry, so he went to the kitchen of Great Heishan Shanzhai to eat something.

As he ate, Mo Hua heard the old man in the kitchen cursing the fat cultivator.

"The pastries prepared for the Third Master were stolen and eaten… I told you to watch them, and you didn't watch them — you can't even handle such a small thing, what good are you?"

Pastries for the Third Master?

Mo Hua paused, glanced at the half-eaten pastry in his hand.

These were meant for the Third Master?

No wonder…

He felt the pastry wasn't that bad, so he ate a bit more.

On the other side, the old man in the kitchen was still cursing.

He was senior, his temper foul and stubborn, and his words were harsh — he cursed the fat cultivator up one side and down the other.

The fat cultivator did not dare argue back.

After the old man finished cursing, he gave a cold snort and left.

The fat cultivator stood where he was, so angry his eyelids twitched, cursing bitterly:

"Which bastard is sneaking food? If I find out, I'll make sure you die a horrible death!"

Mo Hua, who was just eating his pastry, was taken aback at the words, then slowly licked his lips, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Bastard?

Die a horrible death?

"Not only does he curse me, he wants me dead?"

Mo Hua silently watched the fat cultivator, his thoughts racing — wondering whether he should just kill this fatty first.

Thank you to "Do I Still Have a Chance?" for the tip~

One extra chapter today.