Chapter 44: Driven to Death by Rage

Sometimes, a person’s expression determines their attractiveness.

After this man rolled up his whites, he looked disgusting no matter how you viewed him.

The four did not approach rashly, for the green poison powder had not fully dispersed—it had split into four directions, surrounding An Zhijian.

Seeing the four dare not come closer, An Zhijian reached into the charred jar, trying to pull out something else.

But at that moment, a Lightning Strike Spell struck down.

An Zhijian retreated two steps before the lightning hit him.

Because the Lightning Strike Spell is guided by “qi patterns,” Spirit Hunters can sense the flow of yin energy and anticipate the spell’s point of impact.

The Lightning Strike Spell seemed to miss, yet the entire jar exploded under the lightning.

Red and black chunks of flesh flew everywhere.

This was the true target Li Lin had aimed for.

Then several round objects rolled out from among the flesh chunks.

On closer inspection, they were clearly the heads of several women.

Li Lin and the others instinctively stepped back… though not out of fear—Spirit Hunters dealt with demons and monsters too often to be frightened by such things.

They merely feared this might be some dark art, and contact could be disastrous.

It was only afternoon, and the sunlight was blazing, nearly direct.

The women’s heads emitted black mist under the sun, rapidly growing “shriveled,” visibly withering before their eyes.

Worse still, these heads kept opening and closing their mouths in the sunlight, as if silently screaming.

Seeing the heads, An Zhijian lunged forward, gathering them all together, wailing in agony: “Ah, what happened to you? What happened? How could you leave me?”

He looked as if these heads were his own kin.

Yet the heads decayed at an alarming rate—within mere breaths, they turned black, like organs ready to crumble, their features no longer recognizable.

An Zhijian trembled as he stared at the heads, then glared hatefully at Li Lin.

But the moment he turned his gaze, he instinctively leapt backward, like a toad, his hands and feet flat against the ground.

A crimson-and-blue lightning bolt struck the exact spot where An Zhijian had been.

Li Lin couldn’t help but mutter “tch” inside.

Almost missed—I’m still too slow casting the Lightning Strike Spell.

At that moment, Su Huafang pulled two silver filaments from his pack and tossed them to Zhao Hao and Bai Liwei: “Use these to bind him—give Li Xunshou an opening.”

The two immediately understood Su Huafang’s plan.

Each silver filament’s tip was tied to a small bronze bell; they swung them first, then hurled them—extremely fast.

Su Huafang’s bell dodged An Zhijian, but Zhao Hao and Bai Liwei’s bells did not.

The bells flew past An Zhijian’s sides, then their wielders gave a light tug, causing the silver filaments to wrap around his body, while the bells behind, driven by inertia, coiled tightly around him.

Seeing the filaments had bound An Zhijian, they pulled hard, yanking him to the ground, unable to rise.

Aaaahhh!

An Zhijian screamed wildly, thrashing violently.

Zhao Hao shouted: “Li Xunshou, strike him with lightning again!”

Zhao Hao didn’t need to shout—Li Lin was already forming the spell.

Boom.

A precise crimson-and-blue bolt struck An Zhijian full on.

It instantly blew off all his clothes, turning his white eyes back to black.

Three breaths later, another bolt struck.

Now An Zhijian’s body was covered in black scorch marks, his long hair nearly charred into curls, unrecognizable from his original form.

They waited, but no more lightning came.

Zhao Hao shouted: “One more strike—he’s dead for sure!”

Li Lin waved his hand: “No, I’m exhausted.”

He could cast the Lightning Strike Spell at most thirteen times in a full day of practice.

In less than twenty breaths, he’d already used four—his internal yin energy was nearly depleted.

“Hah! Li Xunshou, you’re looking a bit weak,” Zhao Hao said, walking toward An Zhijian: “Then let me finish him off.”

Zhao Hao stepped up to An Zhijian, about to strike, when Su Huafang called out to stop him.

“Young Master Zhao, wait—I have questions for him.”

Zhao Hao gave Su Huafang his due and stepped back.

Su Huafang approached An Zhijian, studying his condition.

One must admit, Lightning Arts were brutal—though An Zhijian wasn’t dead yet, he was close.

“I was the one who discovered you,” Su Huafang said, looking at An Zhijian: “You once had conscience. Why have you become this way now…?”

An Zhijian’s meridians had already been destroyed by lightning; he survived only on a trickle of yin energy, incapable of any movement.

Only his eyes moved—he glared at Su Huafang with a sneer: “Did you… ever truly look at me…? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have exiled me… to this borderland.”

Su Huafang shook his head: “That wasn’t the intention. Bo Bai Military Post is vital—sending you there shows the County Magistrate values you!”

“Do you believe that yourself?” An Zhijian sneered: “Bo Bai is so far from the county seat, right on the second frontline of the border garrison—if anything happens, I die first. Do you think I’m blind?”

Su Huafang shook his head: “Alas, you don’t understand—fortune comes with risk. You were born poor; if you refuse to become a pawn and earn great merit, who will lift you up?”

“Hahahaha!” An Zhijian laughed, turning his gaze to Li Lin: “Then what about him? Unknown origin, unclear allegiance, not even a commoner—yet you all accept him. Even the Tree Immortal Goddess chose him. Why? Because he has a Han man’s face, while I… have skin like charcoal, gray eyes not as dark as yours, a flat nose—so I deserve to rot in Bo Bai Military Post!”

“It’s not like that!” Su Huafang sighed.

“And why, among other non-Han, does the County Magistrate’s eldest daughter receive such adoration?” An Zhijian coughed twice, black blood spewing from his mouth: “I merely hinted at wanting to court her—the Magistrate flew into a rage, as if he meant to devour me.”

Su Huafang had nothing to say.

The County Magistrate’s eldest daughter was beautiful, with a flawless figure—even as a non-Han, many virtuous men wished to marry her.

Yet the Huang family had raised her to nineteen without any intention of marrying her off.

This was indeed strange.

“I know something about this,” Bai Liwei said with a smile: “Nineteen years ago, the County Magistrate was in the north. He’d just passed the imperial exams six months prior, serving as a Dalisipingshi , and kept a Hu Ji as a concubine. That concubine was nine months pregnant. Later, the Huang family’s enemies sent assassins. In the crisis, the Hu Ji, swollen with child, took a blade meant for him. Severely wounded, she gave birth to her daughter before dying. Since then, the Hu Ji’s daughter has been doted on in the Huang household—no one dares utter a single ‘no.’ She refuses to marry, and no one forces her.”

So that’s how it was.

An Zhijian was now dying, his eyelids fluttering, about to close: “The Huang daughter has her mother… to protect her… I accept that. But him…?”

His gaze fixed on Li Lin, filled with deep confusion.

Su Huafang and Bai Liwei said nothing—they too were puzzled.

Zhao Hao looked from Li Lin to An Zhijian, uncertainly saying: “Could it be because Li Xunshou qualifies for the saying ‘a gentleman as refined as jade’?”

An Zhijian’s eyes widened, his whole body trembled, and he stared fixedly at Li Lin—then went still.

As if he could not die in peace.

Zhao Hao gasped in shock: “Hey, don’t die so fast! You haven’t said whether you killed over a hundred soldiers at Bo Bai Military Post—or shattered the altar!”

An Zhijian naturally said nothing more.

Yet Zhao Hao nodded as if hearing a voice: “Mm… mm… so it was you, Old Bai, Old Su—you heard it too. It was An Zhijian.”

(End of Chapter)