Chapter 66

“If you want to die quickly, then answer my questions one by one. Otherwise, I’ll slice the flesh off your body piece by piece with a knife!” Xia Daoming interrupted coldly.

“Great sir, spare my life! Great sir, spare my life!” Sang Zhang’s composure vanished instantly as he pleaded desperately.

Xia Daoming gave Sang Zhang a cold smile; in his hand, a sharp dagger had appeared out of nowhere, and he slashed at Sang Zhang’s little right finger.

The severed finger, spattering drops of blood, flew up and landed on the ground.

Sang Zhang was just about to scream in agony when Xia Daoming seized his throat.

“Ooh!” Sang Zhang’s cry was trapped in his throat; beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead.

“Shall I cut off another finger?” Xia Daoming smiled at Sang Zhang.

Sang Zhang shook his head frantically, his eyes filled with terror as if Xia Daoming were a demon from hell.

Liu Qiaolian watched this scene, her eyes reddening.

At this moment, she had longed for it for countless nights and days!

“Good. Now tell me: where is the demonic cultivator of Gengyun Mountain? When will he return? Why did he choose this place? What is the meaning of the field to the east of the valley? And who are those people tilling the land…” Xia Daoming fired off a string of questions.

People like Sang Zhang feared most those even colder, more ruthless, and more cruel than themselves.

Xia Daoming had shown sufficient cold-blooded cruelty, utterly crushing Sang Zhang’s hope of Jiaoxing survival.

So Sang Zhang quickly spilled everything like beans pouring from a bamboo tube.

After listening, Xia Daoming was both shocked and delighted, yet his heart throbbed with tension.

Damn, others break into bandit dens—I’ve broken into a fairy nest!

And according to this guy, that demonic cultivator’s demonic arts are formidable—he kills martial masters below the Zongshi rank as easily as chopping vegetables!

Fortunately, the demonic cultivator isn’t home right now; otherwise, I might have ended up dead here!

But he could return at any moment—it’s better to loot the place and flee quickly.

As Xia Daoming thought this, he turned to Liu Qiaolian and asked, “Do you want to do it yourself?”

“Thank you, Master!” Liu Qiaolian bowed slightly, swung her long spear, and drove it deep into Sang Zhang’s chest, piercing him through multiple times until he was dead beyond doubt; only then did she stop, suddenly collapsing to her knees, her lovely face streaked with tears.

Seeing this, Xia Daoming stepped forward and gently patted her shoulder, then leapt onto the rooftop of the mansion, looking down at the cluster of women below, now in utter panic, and said: “I know you’re all unfortunate souls. If you obey me, gather all the valuables in this mansion and wait here, I won’t kill you—I’ll let you go. But if you try any tricks, those four outside are your fate.”

“Thank you, great hero! Don’t worry—we can’t escape. The exit is sealed by a divine array and guarded by demonic beasts. Even if we wanted to flee, we’re entirely dependent on you—we dare not harbor any deceitful thoughts.” A woman with relatively stronger martial energy bowed to Xia Daoming.

Xia Daoming nodded, leapt down from the roof, and headed straight east toward the valley with Liu Qiaolian.

A gentle breeze brushed his face, carrying a unique fragrance of rice.

Xia Daoming inhaled deeply, feeling his entire body refresh and clear.

“Spirit rice truly is spirit rice—just this scent is extraordinary!” Xia Daoming’s eyes burned with hunger as he and Liu Qiaolian sprinted faster.

Dan Zuo, the youngest of the Six Evil Withered Ones.

Tall and thin as a bamboo pole, yet his blood and qi surged like an ocean—he was the most promising among the Six Evil Withered Ones to reach the Eighth Rank Great Martial Master.

Now he stood on the field ridge, a stalk of rice in his mouth, watching over the dozen or so martial masters tilling the soil.

These martial masters were almost all Fifth Rank Great Martial Masters, even two Sixth Rank ones.

The martial masters wielded hoes, laboring carefully and powerfully to turn the soil beneath the golden, heavy rice panicles.

The soil, under the sunlight, faintly steamed with mist, refracting tiny rays of rosy light—like the purple aura of a celestial realm.

A cool breeze blew, and Dan Zuo couldn’t help but inhale deeply, his gaze burning as it fell upon the field shimmering with golden radiance.

“This year’s harvest will be bountiful. I wonder if the Immortal Lord will reward me with some spirit rice. If I get even a little, it could nourish my vitality and refine my strength—perhaps I’ll reach Eighth Rank Great Martial Master in the coming years.”

“If I serve the Immortal Lord well in the future, and he’s pleased, maybe he’ll grant me a Zongshi secret map—perhaps I’ll even attain the Zongshi path in this lifetime. Hmm, once I become a Zongshi …” Dan Zuo was lost in daydreams when his peripheral vision caught two figures sprinting toward him.

“Huh? Strange—is the Immortal Lord back? Are these two his new subordinates?” Dan Zuo’s face showed surprise, then he frowned.

He didn’t want too many servants around the Immortal Lord.

It would diminish his own status and value.

Dan Zuo quickly stepped forward to meet them.

Seeing Dan Zuo leave the ridge, the laboring martial masters paused, wiped sweat from their brows, and stared curiously at the two approaching figures.

This field, nourished by an underground spirit vein, was as hard as iron; turning the soil required channeling hidden force with every stroke of the hoe—exhausting work.

“Who are you?” Dan Zuo quickly noticed that Xia Daoming and Liu Qiaolian wore conical hats and had their faces covered with cloth; his expression turned grim, and with a sharp “clang,” he drew his long blade, pointing it at them.

“Hah! Those who come to take your life!” Xia Daoming roared with laughter, his foot slamming into the ground—the earth exploded into a crater, and he himself shot upward like a cannonball.

Mid-air, his spear flashed like lightning toward Dan Zuo.

The spear’s aura surged, thick with lethal intent.

“Eighth Rank!”

Dan Zuo felt his scalp about to split open; without thinking, he unleashed all his strength and slashed his blade toward the spear.

Dan Zuo suddenly felt his scalp about to explode; without thinking, he surged all his strength and slashed violently at the spear.

“Clatter!”

Spear met blade.

The blade flew from Dan Zuo’s hand and clattered to the ground.

A single point of cold light pierced the air, piercing straight through his chest.

Dan Zuo stared in disbelief, eyes wide, fixed on the man before him.

He was a Seventh Rank Great Martial Master—even if he couldn’t match an Eighth Rank, he should have lasted a few blows. Yet he was killed in one thrust, utterly defenseless.

The world fell utterly silent.

Beneath the warm sunlight, the martial masters in the field all felt icy chills crawl up their spines.

Is this really an Eighth Rank Great Martial Master?

This is too terrifying!

“If you don’t want to die, harvest the spirit rice!” Xia Daoming had no time to watch these men stare in shock or to boast—he yanked his spear back, split it into two rods, and ordered coldly.

“Harvest the spirit rice?” The martial masters trembled violently, faces pale.

“Great hero, please don’t! This spirit rice was planted by an immortal—if we harvest it, we’ll all die!” One martial master cried out in terror.

“If you don’t harvest it, do you plan to be slaves here for life? Or do you think the demonic cultivator will spare you when he returns?” Xia Daoming said coldly.

“Do you think we want to be slaves here for life? But the valley is sealed by an immortal array, guarded by five Xiong men from Evil Withered Mountain—we can’t escape! What can we do?” A bearded giant shouted, having lost all fear.

“Do you think we want to spend our whole lives as slaves here? But the valley is sealed by immortal arrays, and five Xiong men from Evil Withered Mountain guard and watch over us—we can’t even escape, what can we do?” roared a burly man with a full beard.