Chapter 79: Massacre Unleashed!

Upon learning that Xie Tang was not present, Liu Qingshi stood for a moment before the Shanmen of Tianqing Sect, then sighed softly and descended the mountain.

When he returned home, his wife Huang Xiyu immediately came forward, her still-elegant face filled with worry.

She spoke softly, her voice tinged with cautious hope: “Qingshi, how did it go? Did Xie Tang agree to help?”

Liu Qingshi fell silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod: “Mm.”

He did not tell her that Xie Tang was not at Tianqing Sect—he had gone to visit a friend in Huangxin Prefecture.

Huang Xiyu exhaled deeply, and the tension on her face finally gave way to a smile: “That’s good, that’s good.”

Not long after, Su Chen and Su Yan arrived in haste, their faces tense.

As soon as they entered, their eyes immediately fixed on Liu Qingshi.

Seeing their anxious, hopeful expressions, Liu Qingshi gave another slight nod, signaling they could relax.

“Brother Liu… Su has no idea how to thank you enough…”

Su Chen’s voice trembled with emotion.

“Master Liu… thank you!!!”

Su Yan was even more moved, her eyes reddening, tears welling as she bowed deeply to Liu Qingshi.

Liu Qingshi watched their agitation, his expression calm, even carrying a faint, soothing smile.

But that smile remained only on his face; deep in his eyes lay an unyielding shadow of sorrow.

He knew the bandits of Heifeng Zhai had at most two or three days of patience.

If the ransom was not delivered, they would likely kill the hostages.

His only option now was to risk going to Heisong Mountain and negotiate with the bandits first, to buy time.

As long as Xie Tang returned, the situation would turn.

No matter how bold the bandits were, they would still fear the reputation of a Tianqing Sect Elder.

He told no one of these plans—not even Huang Xiyu.

He knew that if he told her, his wife would never let him go.

Su Chen and Su Yan, father and daughter, offered Liu Qingshi many heartfelt thanks before taking their leave.

Night fell.

Liu Qingshi lay on his bed, listening to Huang Xiyu’s steady breathing beside him.

Only when her breath grew deeper and slower did he stir gently.

He slipped quietly from the bed, each step light as if treading on clouds, afraid of waking his sleeping wife.

He dressed, silently opened the door, and stepped into the courtyard.

The night wind was cool, stirring his robes.

He did not leave immediately, but turned and entered another room—the one housing Jiang Ye’s spirit tablet.

The room was small, yet spotlessly clean.

Liu Qingshi lit three incense sticks with steady hands, bowed deeply three times before the tablet, then solemnly placed them in the censer.

He stood there, gazing at the cold tablet, silent for a moment.

“Old Jiang.”

He finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse, thick with suppressed emotion.

“Watch over me.”

With that, he bowed slightly to the tablet, then turned and strode out the door.

His back was straight as a pine, his steps firm as a mountain, radiating unwavering resolve.

The night was deep; he vanished swiftly into the boundless dark.

Meanwhile.

Jiang Ye was finally about to begin his slaughter.

To fully unleash the Deer Essence, he had deliberately waited until nightfall.

Now, the moon was hidden, the wind howled—perfect for killing.

“Not bad. The defenses are indeed tight.”

Hidden in the shadows, Jiang Ye’s gaze flashed like lightning as he scanned the sentries.

The closer he got to the summit, the denser the wooden watchtowers became—every dozen steps, one tower; truly, ten paces per post, five paces per guard.

Though the bandit sentries were weak—none stronger than Mingjin, many not even cultivators—the moment any one of them raised the alarm, the entire Shanzhai would erupt.

No wonder the Tianqing Sect Elders had failed before.

Such tight defenses would give anyone pause.

“Ahh~~~ Haa~~~”

One bandit sentry couldn’t help yawning, rubbing his sleepy eyes, utterly unaware that a ghostlike figure had slipped past his side.

On the summit, wooden huts of varying sizes were scattered, all lit brightly.

Firelight spilled from windows and door cracks, casting the rough wooden walls in flickering shadows, like the blinking eyes of ghosts in the night.

The night wind carried the scent of burning pine resin, mingled with alcohol, roasted meat, and a nauseating stench of blood.

From the main house in the distance came the raucous cheers of bandits drinking and gambling, crude laughter and curses rising in waves, echoing through the silent forest and startling several night-roosting birds.

Jiang Ye’s figure moved like smoke blending into the night, silent and unseen.

Capture the leader first.

He needed to find where the bandit chieftains hid.

“Huh?!”

He reached the first small hut, peered through a crack in the window, and his aged eyes narrowed.

Inside, the light was dim, only a single oil lamp flickering in the corner, casting monstrous silhouettes of men across the room.

Over a dozen bandits sat around a crooked wooden table, littered with gnawed bones, overturned wine jugs, and spilled grease.

They were drunk, faces flushed, chests bare, shouting and brawling, spewing filth, their laughter coarse and unrestrained.

In the center of the room, several women huddled together, like chicks huddled in a storm.

Each was pale and emaciated, cheekbones jutting out—clear signs of long-term malnutrition.

Their clothes were torn to shreds, exposing skin bruised purple and blue, crisscrossed with finger marks and whip wounds.

They kept their heads down, Bugankanrenheren , shoulders trembling violently, hands clutching each other’s clothes as if that were their only anchor in this hell.

Tears slid silently down their cheeks, darkening the dusty floor, yet not a sob escaped their lips.

They knew any cry would only invite fiercer abuse.

The bandits, watching their terror, laughed louder, as if these were not living people, but livestock to be tortured and played with.

Without doubt, these women had been kidnapped from below the mountain.

Their husbands, parents, perhaps already slain by blades.

And they themselves now endured in this lightless Shanzhai a torment worse than death.

“Truly beasts.”

A flash of cold light passed through Jiang Ye’s aged eyes.

Tonight, he would slaughter them all.

He did not alert them, but silently moved toward the next hut.

The second hut was identical to the first.

Jiang Ye glanced briefly, then pressed on.

It seemed the bandits’ nightly routines were all the same.

When he reached the third hut and peered through the window, he froze.

Inside, several figures bound tightly with iron chains sat slumped in the corner.

Two of them, he knew all too well.

It was Zhao Gang and Shi Lei, the senior disciples of Qingshi Martial Academy.

Their bodies were lacerated, streaked with blood—they had clearly suffered greatly.

Yet even so, they gritted their teeth, silent as stone.

Beside them were several more men dressed as guards, equally worn down, groaning in pain.

“These are Su family’s guards.”

Jiang Ye recognized their attire.

“They must have been helping the Su family—and were captured by these bandits.”

The old man, sharp as ever, instantly pieced together what had happened.

At that moment,

Inside the hut, a tall, bald, muscular man, his scalp gleaming, strode forward holding a black whip, grinning wickedly toward Zhao Gang and Shi Lei.

The whip still dripped fresh blood, glinting dark red in the firelight.

“You’re tough, aren’t you?”

The man grinned, revealing yellow teeth, his smile twisted with sick delight:

“Fifth Brother loves torturing men like you! The louder you scream, the more excited I get! If you won’t scream, I’ll beat you until you do!”

With that, he lashed out.

Crack!

A sharp crack!

The whip lashed hard against their bodies, instantly tearing open two bloody wounds, flesh flayed and horrifying to behold.

Zhao Gang shuddered all over, teeth clenched so tight they clicked, veins bulging on his forehead, yet he uttered not a single cry.

Shi Lei bit his lips so hard blood seeped from the corners, yet he didn’t even whimper.

But they truly were tough.

After such whippings, they gritted their teeth and stayed utterly silent.

“Good, good.”

The big man nodded in satisfaction, his sickly smile growing even more grotesque:

“Once Fifth Brother finishes his drink, I’ll come back and play with you properly!”

He sneered as he tucked away the whip and turned toward the door.

Thud.

The moment he shut the wooden door and was about to turn around—

Shhh!

A beautiful, bloody crescent blade glow flashed into his vision without warning.

“...”

He never had time to scream; his consciousness snapped off instantly.

Inside the spacious wooden hut, candles burned bright, the air thick with alcohol.

Four burly, menacing men sat around a large octagonal table, piled high with meat and wine. Their faces flushed, laughter coarse and loud, shaking dust from the rafters.

“Hahaha, brothers, this job against the Su family will make us feast till we burst!”

Zhou Laoguai, the chief, slammed his fist on the table, his face, thick with fat, splitting into a toothless grin.

“Hahaha, only the boss is wise! You’ve made contact with the Sun family!”

Er Dangjia Baoshan Xiong downed a large gulp of wine, wiped his lips, eyes gleaming with pride: “Double-dipping—this deal’s worth every copper!”

“True. Collecting money from both the Su family and the Sun family—hmm, Boss’s brain? We can’t even catch up!”

San Dangjia Chuanshan Lang raised his thumb, showering praise so loud it echoed.

“I just wonder if the Su family has raised the ransom.”

Si Dangjia chuckled, grabbing a piece of meat and shoving it into his mouth, mumbling: “Three hundred thousand taels—that’ll drain them dry.”

They were none other than the four bosses of Heifeng Zhai .

At that moment—

Tap-tap-tap...

A knock came suddenly at the door, slow and unhurried, yet piercingly clear amid the noise.

“Fuck, Fifth Brother’s finally showing up.”

Si Dangjia, closest to the door, cursed as he lurched to his feet and staggered toward it.

He yanked open the wooden door, still grumbling: “Taking forever to drink—once he’s in, I’ll drown him in liquor...”

His voice cut off abruptly.

Outside, the bald giant stood rigid, eyes vacant, expressionless.

His greasy, gleaming face held not a trace of color, like a corpse just risen from its grave.

“What the hell are you standing there for? Get in!”

Si Dangjia roared, slapping the bald giant hard on the shoulder.

Thud.

That slap seemed to trigger some forbidden mechanism.

The bald giant’s head slid cleanly off his neck, thumping to the floor, rolling twice—his vacant face now staring straight at Si Dangjia, eyes wide open in eternal shock.

“This...”

Si Dangjia’s pupils shrank to needle points!

A chill shot from his soles to the crown of his head, freezing his blood.

He opened his mouth to scream—

The next instant—

Shhh!

A bloody, exquisite crescent blade glow pierced through the still-standing headless body of the bald giant, like a serpent’s tongue, striking precisely into Si Dangjia’s chest.