Chapter 81: The Death-Scorpion! Jiang Ye

“Kill intent?!”

Jiang Ye blinked slightly, his aged eyes flickering with confusion.

So that cold, yin, sinister, and poisonous aura was kill intent.

But what use could such kill intent possibly have?

Just moments ago, it had circled his body once, then receded like a tide, vanishing without a trace.

He tried to grasp it, to sense it—but could no longer find any trace of it, as if it had all been an illusion.

“Could I perhaps cultivate it using the Qi Nurturing Method?”

The moment this thought surfaced, he himself found it absurd.

Who in this world would deliberately cultivate kill intent?

The Qi Nurturing Method cultivates the Five Elements of heaven and earth—upright, righteous Dao.

Kill intent is cold, sinister, and poisonous—it stands in direct opposition to the righteous path; how could there be any corresponding technique for it?

“There probably isn’t any Qi Nurturing Method designed specifically to cultivate kill intent...”

He shook his head slightly, suppressing that overly bold thought for now.

As for kill intent, he could learn more about it after returning to the sect.

He lifted his gaze toward the few wooden huts nearby, his eyes sharpening.

Matters of importance came first.

“Captain Zhao, Young Shi, did you hear the battle cries from outside?”

The guards, bound tightly with iron chains, had been slumped in despair on the ground—but now each perked up, straining to listen.

“The noise is enormous!”

“Someone must have broken into Black Wind Fortress!”

“Who dares invade Black Wind Fortress?!”

“Could it be Master Liu?!”

At the mention of Liu Qingshi, the guards’ eyes lit up.

Before he was wounded, Liu Qingshi had led them on several trade routes; his steady, mountain-like presence and loyal, righteous nature had been deeply etched into every one of their hearts.

Zhao Gang, his body riddled with wounds, gritted his teeth against the searing pain and growled: “I hope it’s not Master Liu coming.”

“Mm.”

Beside him, Shi Lei, equally covered in injuries, clenched his teeth and nodded firmly.

Both Zhao Gang and Shi Lei knew Black Wind Fortress was a den of dragons and tigers—five leaders, all at the Transformation Stage, plus over a hundred desperate outlaws; even if Liu Qingshi came alone, his chances were slim.

They would rather die here than have their Master risk his life.

Yet barely moments later, the thunderous clamor abruptly ceased—as if severed by a single blade.

“What’s going on...”

“Why did those beasts suddenly stop screaming...”

“Could they have already dealt with the intruder...”

The men inside exchanged glances, their faces filled with bewilderment.

Zhao Gang and Shi Lei’s hearts sank sharply.

If the intruder truly was Master Liu, then did that mean...

“Please, don’t let it be Master Liu!!!”

Both silently prayed, their usually resolute eyes now flickering with rare panic.

At that moment.

Boom!

A muffled crash.

The wooden door was shattered into a thousand splinters by an overwhelming force, shards flying everywhere.

Then, a figure in gray robes, hair streaked white, stepped slowly into the room.

In his hand he carried a blood-red curved blade, its tip still dripping slow, crimson drops.

It was Jiang Ye.

The instant he stepped inside, an indescribable aura spread through the room.

It was kill intent—like a mountain of corpses and seas of blood, icy and brutal, as if countless tormented souls wailed behind him.

Every person in the room, including Zhao Gang, a Transformation Stage martial artist, trembled in their core, as if stalked by an ancient beast, unable to utter a sound.

The guards with weaker cultivation bases instinctively lowered their heads, trembling violently, too terrified to even lift their eyes.

Jiang Ye’s gaze swept subtly over Zhao Gang and Shi Lei.

The two young men, battered and bruised, yet still standing tall.

He said nothing—only flicked his wrist.

Shhh!

A slash of blood-red moonlight flashed.

The iron chains binding them all snapped cleanly, clattering to the ground.

“I’ve killed most of the bandits; only a few sentries remain outside. Take care of yourselves and leave the mountain.”

Jiang Ye’s voice was as calm as still water, as if describing a trivial matter.

No sooner had he finished than his figure blurred—and vanished outside the door like a ghost, leaving only wood splinters and broken chains behind.

The room fell into deathly silence.

The men stared at the broken chains, at the empty doorway, stunned for a long while before finally coming to their senses.

“We’re... saved!!!”

Someone was the first to cry out in relief—then the guards erupted into wild cheers and jumps, tears streaming down their faces.

Being trapped in this bandit den had been torture every single moment.

“All those bandits—those beasts—were killed by that elder just now!!!”

“Heavens! How did that old man kill so many bandits in Black Wind Fortress...”

Zhao Gang and Shi Lei exchanged glances, eyes wide with disbelief and shock, yet also filled with the relief of survival.

Shi Lei stared blankly at the doorway—his eyes held gratitude, awe, and a strange familiarity he couldn’t explain.

“Hurry!! Faster!!”

The chief, Zhou Laoguai, pushed himself to his absolute limit, sprinting desperately down the steep mountain path.

He kept glancing back—behind him lay dark, silent woods, with no trace of the white-haired elder chasing him.

Yet his inner unease only grew thicker, like an invisible hand crushing his heart.

“If I reach that spot, slide across—I’ll be safe!”

Zhou Laoguai ran faster, finally arriving at the cliff’s edge.

Here, only a single iron cable, as thick as an arm, connected to the opposite peak.

The cable swayed slightly in the night wind, creaking—below lay an abyss, pitch-black and bottomless.

This was his secret escape route, unknown even to the other chiefs.

He glanced down at the abyss—the endless darkness made his legs tremble.

After a deep breath, a look of resolve flashed in his eyes.

He gripped the sliding clamp on the cable, unleashed his internal force, and shot across like an arrow loosed from a bow.

After a long while, he finally reached the opposite peak.

The moment his feet touched ground, his legs buckled, nearly collapsing.

Yet his face, thick with muscle, burst into a wild, relieved laugh:

“Hahahaha! I’ve lived to see another day!”

He turned to look back.

At the cliff’s edge, the white-haired elder finally appeared.

“He caught up so fast?!”

Zhou Laoguai’s heart tightened—he yanked his longsword from his waist, unleashed all his internal force, and slashed violently at the iron cable connecting the two peaks.

Clang!

Sparks flew—the thick cable snapped cleanly; half of it shot into the abyss with a whoosh, its fall echoing nowhere.

Zhou Laoguai’s tense heart finally eased.

He stood up, his face twisted into a snarl as he glared at the elder across the chasm and roared: “Old man, if you’ve got guts, fly over here—”

The moment he finished speaking—

The elder on the other side lightly tapped the ground—and rose into the air like a light, graceful bird!

He needed no aid—he simply stepped through the air, moving like a true flying bird, speeding toward him.

“How is this possible?!”

Zhou Laoguai’s cruel grin froze instantly, his eyes wide with impossible horror.

His expression was as if he’d seen a ghost in broad daylight.

Not even those at the Condensation Stage, let alone the legendary Qi-Condensation masters, were said to be able to fly.

So stunned was Zhou Laoguai that he forgot to flee—he stood frozen, watching the figure draw nearer.

When he finally realized he should run, Jiang Ye had already landed gently before him.

The instant he landed, Jiang Ye slashed backward with his knife.

Shhh!

A blood-moon blade light, streaked with crimson-gold true qi, tore through the air and struck straight for Zhou Laoguai.

“You...”

Zhou Laoguai instinctively surged all his strength, raising his sword to block.

Clang!

A metallic clash rang out!

The steel longsword in Zhou Laoguai’s hand snapped like tofu.

The blood-moon blade light’s momentum remained unspent, slamming hard into his body!

Pfft.

Zhou Laoguai’s upper torso nearly split in two; a deep gash, bone-visible, tore across his chest, flesh flayed and charred at the edges, exhaling a faint stench of burning.

He collapsed like a cut kite, crashing to the ground, spitting a spray of blood foam.

Jiang Ye had deliberately held back—if he hadn’t, that single slash would have sent Zhou Laoguai straight to join his brothers in death.

“Huh... huh...”

Zhou Laoguai gasped for breath, blood gushing endlessly from his mouth and chest wound.

He stared fixedly at the white-haired elder before him, eyes filled with terror and venomous hatred.

He didn’t even ask why Jiang Ye was killing him.

A bandit like him, who lived by the edge of the blade, had made too many enemies—everyone wanted him dead.

“Do you know why I’m letting you live?”

Jiang Ye looked down at him with cold indifference, his voice as flat as still water, revealing no emotion.

“I heard you’re good at making money. You must’ve saved up a fortune over the years.”

He lowered his gaze slightly and spoke coldly:

“Spit it out—tell me where you hid your money, and I’ll make your death quick.”

He knew these bandits’ habits—they loved playing the “three burrows” game, splitting stolen silver across hidden caches.

Better to make the boss himself confess than waste time searching.

“So you just want silver...”

Zhou Laoguai let out a bitter smile, his left hand lifting slightly, as if pointing toward some direction.

In the next instant.

Shhh!

A black shadow shot from his sleeve like lightning, lunging straight for Jiang Ye’s throat.

Jiang Ye, already prepared, didn’t even blink—he casually extended two fingers and pinched the shadow firmly between them.

“Deathscorpion?”

He glanced at it.

It was a jet-black scorpion, its tail stinger gleaming with a cold, You blue light.

He’d read about this poison creature in the Manual of Poison Mastery—it was potent, lethal on contact with blood.

“You like playing little tricks on me, huh?”

Jiang Ye smirked without amusement at Zhou Laoguai.

“You...”

Zhou Laoguai had already resigned himself to death—but seeing Jiang Ye dare to grab the Deathscorpion barehanded, a twisted gleam lit his eyes again. “This fool doesn’t know how vicious a scorpion’s sting is!!!”

As expected, the Deathscorpion writhed violently in Jiang Ye’s grip, arching its tail upward, raising its lethal stinger high—then driving it straight into Jiang Ye’s wrist!

Ding.

A soft sound.

The Deathscorpion’s stinger snapped off.

“Ahh...”

Zhou Laoguai went utterly numb.

He stared wide-eyed at Jiang Ye, his gaze as if facing a monster.

His lips trembled violently, his voice warped: “Y-you... practiced hardening arts!!!”

In that moment, he knew he was certainly dead.

He gritted his teeth, raised his hand still clutching the broken sword, and moved to slash his own throat.

Jiang Ye moved faster.

One foot came down—CRACK—the right arm of Zhou Laoguai shattered, the broken sword clattering to the ground.

“Now you want to die? Too late!”

Jiang Ye sneered, the smile chilling under the moonlight.

He pulled a jade box from his robe and opened it gently.

“Since you’re so uncooperative, I won’t make it easy for you.”

Sssss!

A crimson figure shot out like lightning.

At the same moment.

A figure finally arrived at the mountain path’s entrance.

He wore a green robe, his face resolute—it was Liu Qingshi.

He looked up at the dark, night-shrouded Heisong Mountain, drew a deep breath.

“Zhao Gang, Shi Lei—I’m coming.”

He stepped forward, entering the forest.