Chapter 100: The Past of Zhang the Butcher

In the quiet courtyard.

Shen Yi drew water from the well, wrung out the cloth, and walked to the hulking man with his head drooping.

He observed the man's terrified, dazed expression and the absurd ink on his face.

"Funny enough, it really looks like him."

A faint smile curled his lips; his clear eyes flickered with mischief. After teasing him, he reached out, tore off the pig snout and ears from Zhang Butcher's face, handed him the cloth, and spoke in a gentle, steadying tone: "First, wipe yourself clean."

"I…"

Zhang Butcher, stripped of the pig demon disguise, clutched the cloth, his rough face trembling uncontrollably.

Then, as if to vent, he rubbed his face with furious force, as if trying to scrub off a layer of skin.

Seeing this, Shen Yi turned and entered the house: "Now, start from the beginning. Tell me every word, clearly."

He glanced sideways, his gaze returning to calm: "Don't be dramatic, and don't worry about me. You only need to explain it clearly—the rest is my responsibility."

At these words,

Zhang Butcher's previously stiff frame finally collapsed; his massive, mountain-like body trembled like a child's as he buried his head and wailed: "I didn't break the precepts! I didn't break the precepts! I never touched her body! They forced her to slam her head into the door!"

Though his speech was jumbled and his emotions shattered,

Shen Yi listened in silence, removing his outer robe: "Does the Golden Vajra Sect have precepts?"

"There weren't any before, and there still aren't—only for direct disciples. I was a direct disciple… but I didn't break the precepts! The child isn't mine!"

Zhang Butcher looked up, eyes clouded with despair.

Shen Yi draped the newly forged Yin-Yang Fish Ink Robe over his shoulders, suddenly recalling how Zhang Butcher had once mentioned: he had been a prodigy upon entry, taken as a direct disciple, but later offended someone and had been suppressed for years, never granted the Jade Liquid Realm martial arts, forced to painstakingly piece together half of the Golden Yang Eight Treasures Mystic Body himself.

"Yuan Gang and his brother both joined the Golden Vajra Sect. His elder brother died outside Qingzhou City, and they suspected me, who was nearby at the time—though they had no proof. I always got along well with Yuan Zhi; we had no grudge, no rivalry… only he constantly swayed his master to secretly target me."

Zhang Butcher seemed lost in memory, rising unsteadily from the ground.

"So they framed you?"

Shen Yi adjusted the Yin-Yang Fish Long Robe, then took out the Wolf Devouring the Moon Cloak.

"No. I killed Yuan Zhi."

Zhang Butcher's expression went numb; his broad palms clenched into fists: "I never cared for sutras. I was drunk, bored, heard Yuan Zhi was taking a group of virtuous laypeople to cultivate, so I followed to mock him."

"I saw… he kept over a dozen people, chained like pigs—all hollowed-out, filthy shells. He drained men's yang essence and women's impure yin blood, bathed in them… he practiced a demonic body-refining art behind the Golden Vajra Sect's back!"

"When I stumbled upon it, he chased me out… I was terrified. I never imagined someone I'd lived beside could wear such cold, monstrous expressions. Anger boiled inside me, blood rushed to my head—I struck and killed him. I nearly died there too."

"Most of those held captive had already lost their minds from drugs. Only one woman, pregnant, couldn't be bled, so she was merely imprisoned for Yuan Zhi's lust—still conscious. I quietly took her out and hid her in a remote village far from Qingzhou City."

As his voice faded, two teardrops, the size of beans, rolled down Zhang Butcher's furrowed cheeks; his entire being was drained of vitality.

Because he wanted to find a teacher for the child to learn reading and writing, he accidentally exposed it.

"Yuan Gang had just completed his cultivation, emerged from seclusion. They knew I'd returned, secretly trailed me, saw me inquiring about tuition fees, traced it back to the village, and planned to kill me under the pretense of breaking precepts."

"She refused to betray me, refused to tarnish my name—so she slammed her head into the door and died…"

"When I arrived, she was already dead."

"The child… is still in their hands."

A faint, agonized, lingering cry hung in the air.

"Are you clean? Come with me."

Shen Yi stepped out of the house and walked toward the courtyard gate.

Compared to Zhang Butcher, exiled to Bai Yun County, he likely knew more.

After its decline, its inexplicable rise—a martial sect suddenly erecting Buddha statues and pagodas. To outsiders, it seemed to flatter the newly appointed Department Magistrate. Now, it clearly hid something else.

Zhang Butcher stared blankly.

Golden-lacquered, openwork wolf-patterned hairpin securing his hair, the young man's profile stood tall, the Yin-Yang Fish emblem glaringly prominent, jade belt cinched at his waist, golden-patterned black-gloss sword sheath hanging at his side, the Wolf Devouring the Moon Cloak billowing fiercely in the wind!

Shen Yi tugged at his collar, a cold expression permanently etched on his handsome face.

"Where to?"

"To do for those who truly deserved to slam their heads into the door what they were never allowed to do themselves."

The young man's hand rested casually on his sword hilt, his steps steady, his figure slowly dissolving into the endless night.

…

Golden Vajra Sect.

Facing thousands of cold-faced Zhen Mo Si Captains, who had blocked every exit, the sect's disciples instinctively dropped all their weapons.

"We never consorted with demons!"

"My lord, investigate!"

Among the crowd, Hong Lei frowned slightly—these rough martial artists didn't look like troublemakers.

Yet inside the pagoda, not a single fake monk had shown his face.

What were they hiding?

"My lord, investigate!"

The disciples' faces were terrified; many of the timid had collapsed, weeping and sniveling, tears and snot smeared across their faces.

Among them, the strongest were barely at the Initial Realm; most were ordinary mortals of the Mortal Body Stage, joining the Golden Vajra Sect hoping one day to be noticed by monks, shaved, ordained, and taught profound body-refining methods—never having witnessed such a scene.

At that moment, a figure was suddenly kicked flying.

Thud—he slammed into the vermilion, nail-studded gate, a large Bai Bu stained with blood, bones shattered, limp on the ground.

When they recognized his face, every Golden Vajra disciple choked back their sobs, holding their breath.

Yuan… Yuan Gang Daoist Priest?!

Before they could react, a figure stepped slowly forward from among the Captains.

The night wind howled; the cloak swayed.

The golden Moon-Devouring Dire Wolf flashed past the eyes of the many Captains, drawing everyone's gaze.

The hands gripping the Demon-Suppressing Chains tightened once more, committing that young face to memory, their standing postures growing ever more rigidly upright.

Some news really does spread fast — for instance, the lingering dread of a few Golden Eagle Captains after drinking, recounting the feat of slaying the Crocodile Dragon with a flip of the hand and blasting the Rage Sword Elder to death with another.

Coupled with the glory of riding through Qingzhou City and being promoted three ranks in succession, it lent even more truth to those drunken words.

Zhang the Butcher crept carefully through this crowd of great personages, not even daring to raise his head, only to discover after a moment that this group of people seemed just as nervous as he was.

"If one day, I too could be like that…"

Li Xinhan stared fixedly at that slightly slender back, overcome by an inexplicable surge of emotion.

He then turned to look at his older sister, intending to seek some encouragement from her, only to find the enchanting Miss staring blankly ahead, her red lips slightly parted, her breathing faintly quickened.

"…"

Shen Yi walked unhurriedly to the doorway, reached out and grabbed Yuan Gang's clothes, and dragged him step by step up those long stairs.

Dark red bloodstains, following his footsteps, stained the bluestone steps all the way.

After roughly a dozen or twenty steps.

He tossed Yuan Gang aside, strode over and sat down on the steps, his forearm resting casually across his knees, his sleeves fluttering.

With his back to the tightly shut pagoda, Shen Yi extended his other hand and raised a slender index finger.

On that fair, clean face there was not the slightest hint of threat, and his voice was as calm as his expression.

"One incense stick's time."

"If I don't see the person I want, there will be no Golden Vajra Gate left in Qingzhou."

(End of chapter)