Chapter 35: Curse Spirit Pot (Begging for Monthly Votes, Begging for Follows)

As the words fell,

Whoosh! Whoosh!

An old and a young figure from among the carriage passengers exchanged a glance and suddenly leaped out.

"Run separately!"

Taking advantage of the others' lack of reaction, they ran in opposite directions.

They were grandfather and grandson.

The grandfather's name was Zhou Qian, and the grandson's name was Zhou Yin.

When Zhou Qian was chosen by the River of History, he was already fifty years old, a genuine farmer who had encountered several Shadow of the Displaced in a Sick Domain, terrifying him until his legs went weak.

He tumbled and crawled into a cellar, hiding for several days, but with no food inside and being truly starving, he hardened his heart, grabbed a hoe, and bludgeoned a lone Shadow of the Displaced to death, completing the task.

Although the score obtained was very low, he still became a Walker of History.

He acquired a Historical Artifact—the Curse Spirit Pot.

As long as flesh and blood were offered, the Curse Spirit within could be commanded.

Zhou Qian feared such supernatural things and thought of sealing it away, but...

Heaven did not grant his wishes.

Because the plot of land he was assigned was in a better location, the village bully wanted to forcibly swap it; he refused, and the result was being frequently harassed.

Most critically, the village bully used vulgar tactics like splashing dog blood to disgust people, and even reporting to the Public Security Bureau could only result in a warning to the other party.

The most feared thing is a thug with culture.

After multiple negotiations yielded no results, Zhou Qian could no longer endure, went to the village bully's door to reason, but was severely humiliated by the other party, who declared he would torture him until he knelt and begged for mercy.

Little did he know, when one wields a sharp weapon, the intent to kill arises naturally.

Zhou Qian hardened his heart and directly fed his own chickens, ducks, livestock, including the watchdog he had raised for many years, to the Curse Spirit in the pot.

The next day,

he saw the arrogant and domineering village bully die suddenly in the bathtub.

Because the Curse Spirit's ability was very obscure, even the coroner found no problem, assuming it was an accident.

At that moment, a strange emotion sprouted in Zhou Qian's heart.

Humans, it turns out, are so fragile.

And then...

he became the new village bully.

He began to contact the Transcendent World, and using his abilities and connections, he massively encroached on land, squeezed the villagers, accumulated quite a bit of wealth; some people defied him, but all were eliminated by the Curse Spirit, thus becoming a local tyrant.

He took several concubines and had many children.

Afterwards, relying on the Curse Spirit Pot, he survived several desolate Sick Domains and successfully advanced to the peak of Spirit Opening.

Because his origins were all as a farmer, he compared himself to Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang, feeling that Heaven's Mandate was upon him.

But soon, problems arose.

The Curse Spirit's appetite grew larger and larger; ordinary livestock could no longer satisfy it, and it began to demand living humans; Zhou Qian had no choice but to feed it some homeless vagrants, but he also understood...

this was not a long-term solution.

It was not because of a sudden conscience, but because he feared being discovered by the Historical Correction Bureau and facing reckoning.

So he conceived the idea of cultivating his descendants and developing the family to serve him, letting them provide resources to help him advance to the Dao Foundation realm or even the Law Seed realm.

Unfortunately... all his sons were useless.

Among the many grandsons, there were some who were obedient and sensible, but only Zhou Yin, who acted recklessly and lawlessly and almost ended up in a juvenile detention center, possessed aptitude.

It took him exhausting more than half his fortune to barely awaken his spiritual nature.

He only needed to wait for the selection by the River of History to receive a reward.

Today, Zhou Qian had come to the Dharma Assembly to purchase special artifacts to help his grandson cope with his first Sick Domain.

He just didn't expect to be so unlucky.

'That guy called Fly Child on the Mountain of Corpses has a pressure stronger than any diseased creature I have ever seen; he is absolutely a great demon wearing human skin, or some ancient monster who has reversed his aging.'

'Staying here means certain death; fortunately, these people are scared silly and standing frozen, which can help attract the fire.'

Zhou Qian sneered inwardly.

If a man does not act for himself, heaven and earth will destroy him.

"Ahhh! It hurts so much, Grandpa, save me!"

However, a massive swarm of flies quickly surrounded Zhou Yin, who was slightly slower, leaped onto him and tore at him frantically, their wails echoing through the forest.

"Grandson!"

Hearing the screams, Zhou Qian looked back, his eyes bulging with rage, and then...

he took out two inferior Divine Speed Talismans he had just purchased at a high price from the Five Vang Dharma Assembly.

Stuck on both legs, they allow travel of a thousand li a day.

They were originally bought for Zhou Yin to help him survive the Sick Domain...

'Forgive me, Yin'er; as long as I live, the Zhou family still has hope!'

Zhou Qian's face was grotesque, but his heart held little anger; instead, he felt somewhat relieved.

From the very beginning, separating and running with his grandson was nominally to preserve the spark, but actually...

younger flesh is always more tempting than this old man's, which can buy more time.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh!

The Divine Speed Talismans activated, and his figure suddenly accelerated.

"I haven't even said the game starts; prey is not allowed to run around."

The Fly Boy's voice drifted over, faint and eerie:

"Fly Slash!"

Zhou Qian ignored the latter, charging forward with his head down, but his body suddenly lost balance, slamming hard onto the ground as intense pain shot through both feet.

"My feet... are gone?!"

Looking down, he saw both feet cleanly severed, blood gushing out and soaking the ground, making him tremble all over in terror.

Seeing this, Fatty cried out, "There's something under that tree shade over there."

Everyone looked and saw that in the spot Zhou Qian had passed, a patch of pitch-black tree shade held a swarm of flies arranged in a straight line, hovering low in the air; their blood-stained, razor-sharp wings vibrated at high speed, flashing with cold light.

From afar, it looked like a kite string already set in place, waiting for a fast-moving object to come right to it.

Seeing this, everyone felt a chill run down their spines; this was only severed feet—if it were a bit higher, it would be...

Severed heads!

Moreover, the fly swarm was too numerous, the forest was noisy, and it was impossible to see clearly where they were hiding in which corner.

Unavoidable.

This small grove had already become a large-scale trap.

"Please, spare me! You've already eaten my grandson; there's still a whole group of people over there to eat. I'm very old; I don't taste good..."

Feeling his life constantly draining away, Zhou Qian begged for mercy, tears and snot streaming down his face.

The Fly Boy sighed, "The wailing of the weak is truly the most wonderful music in this world."

As he spoke, he closed his eyes, tilted his ear slightly, and wore an expression of enjoyment.

"If you want to kill me, I'll take you with me to the grave!"

Seeing that begging for mercy had yielded no result, Zhou Qian's expression shifted from fear to ruthlessness; he pulled a palm-sized ceramic jar from his chest and roared:

"You've always wanted to eat my flesh and blood, haven't you? As long as I can stay alive, I'll give it all to you."

Crack-crack-crack!

As his words fell, Zhou Qian's flesh and blood withered at a speed visible to the naked eye, leaving him looking like a dried corpse.

The jar opened, spilling forth black cursed-spirit qi that instantly dropped the temperature within dozens of meters around; from it floated forth a black, rusted nail.

In an instant, it shattered numerous flies that drew near and whistled toward the Fly Boy.

Once it struck, death was certain!

Zhou Qian laughed madly, "Die!"

However, the black nail, mere inches from the Fly Boy, was caught between two fingers; no matter how it struggled, it could not move.

Zhou Qian's smile froze on his face as he murmured:

"Impossible..."

"So you're an old-time sorcerer who used to be a carpenter. To take revenge on his master's family, he sacrificed himself and created this cursed artifact.

Now, having consumed quite a bit of flesh and blood, and by successfully devouring his master, he climbed another step, nearing the Foundation Realm.

Although I was injured when I came out of Shaolao Mountain, but..."

"An ant that grows stronger is still an ant."

The Fly Boy whispered, applied slight pressure with his fingers, crushed the black nail's curse, and in an instant it dissolved into drifting air.

Then, he casually flicked his hand.

The flies formed a long whip and lashed down forcefully, splitting both the ceramic jar and Zhou Qian in two.

"Aaaah!"

The cursed spirit inside the jar wailed incessantly before finally dissipating into black mist.

One strike, instant kill!

Throughout the entire process, the Fly Boy's expression remained calm, as if he had merely crushed an insect; he turned his gaze to the remaining dozen or so passengers.

Merely that gaze made everyone feel as though they had fallen into an ice cave.

A Spirit-Opening Realm peak cultivator, burning his own life to gain combat power near the Foundation Realm, yet was casually crushed to death.

A demon of this caliber—

Even if they united, they could not possibly be a match!

Unless...

They placed their last hope on the coachman; as long as they waited for reinforcements from the Five Chang Ritual to arrive, they could be saved.

Coachman Number Four kept swatting flies off his body and said with a grim face:

"All the transmission talismans have been contaminated by these flies through self-detonation; they can no longer be used."

"It's over!"

Everyone fell into despair.

One middle-aged man, his face grim, said:

"Then how did the earlier message get sent out..."

"I did it."

A voice came from the forest; Coachman Number Ten, wearing a mask, stepped out. His arm skin was deathly pale, covered with strange blue veins, looking nothing like a human anymore.

"I've already been parasitized. The Fly Boy controlled my body to send those messages. I didn't want to..."

He forced a grotesque smile, opened his mouth, and the sound that emerged was like countless flies' wings beating together; he spoke with difficulty:

"Don't make futile resistance. The entire forest is sealed off by the fly swarm; there's no way to escape. Electronic devices have no signal either. Commit suicide, or you'll only please it..."

Before he could finish speaking, Coachman Number Ten was slapped away by a palm-sized fly-formed hand, crashing hard into a tree trunk, vomiting out a mass of insect eggs, and collapsing unconscious.

"Don't say unnecessary words."

The Fly Boy looked at the despairing crowd and said with a smile:

"Although I need to devour you to recover from my injuries, prey that is too despairing is far too dull to kill. How about this..."

"You shall slaughter one another until a final victor emerges; I will let him live and depart!"

(End of this chapter)