Chapter 161: This Is Famine

Haichiling, Toudao Ridge, Lu Dongjun's residence.

All guards were on high alert; the entire residence was under siege.

The extinct House-Clearing Mosquitoes, long gone from Toudao Ridge, had returned.

Not only had they returned, but they were no longer afraid of Lu Dongjun's medicine.

Lu Dongjun had scattered rice laced with medicine everywhere, but it did no good at all.

Toudao Ridge had been caught off guard; everyone had believed they'd never see House-Clearing Mosquitoes again, so they made no preparations, and their hard-earned grain stores were wiped clean.

Toudao Ridge, barely escaped from hardship, was plunged into despair once more.

The more admiration people once held for Lu Dongjun, the greater their hatred for him today!

Those besieging Lu Dongjun's residence were primarily led by various gangs and clans, with ordinary civilians joining in.

Alone, these people could not easily breach Lu Dongjun's residence—he had fortified it thoroughly.

But powerful families had also extended their hands into this.

He Haisheng, smoking a cigarette, stood among the crowd, beside Han Yaomen, the Grand Chief of Qingyun Society.

Both had concealed their faces with spiritual artifacts; ordinary people could not recognize them.

Watching the waves of curses surrounding Lu Dongjun's mansion, Han Yaomen sneered: "A few days ago, I waited at his gate for half an hour with gifts, just to see him—yet he refused to receive me."

"Soon I'll have my men tear down his gate and let everyone in—I'll see if he still dares to hide."

He Haisheng glanced at Han Yaomen: "Brother Han, you came here in person—surely you don't just want to humiliate Lu Dongjun?"

Han Yaomen smiled faintly: "I won't spare him his face—but whether I spare his life depends on what Third Master He says."

"My word alone won't matter," He Haisheng looked around, "there are too many people here who need to speak today."

Ma Chunting, the eldest of the Ma family, was present.

Chu Huaijun, the eldest son of the Chu family, was present.

Zhang Xiuling, the leader of Baihua Gate, was present.

Many other prominent families had sent numerous representatives.

They were still waiting—for the right moment to strike.

Though they held clear numerical and combat advantages, no one wished to charge to the front.

No one wanted to face Lu Dongjun directly; no matter how incompetent he appeared in other matters, he was a master of battle.

Lu Maoxian, Lu Dongjun's grandfather, had once said: among all Lu family members, the fiercest fighter was the second son, Lu Dongjun.

Even Lu Dongliang had admitted: if they faced off on a fighting platform, he might not defeat Lu Dongjun.

This was not merely an advantage of Wu Xiu cultivation—it was one of Lu Dongjun's few innate gifts.

He lacked cunning, avoided deceit; in pure combat, whether in strength or response, Lu Dongjun far surpassed ordinary men.

But Lu Dongjun was unlucky—those who opposed him always struck through cunning, not force.

Han Yaomen was still observing the movements of other families and gangs, and was surprised to find two had sent no one: "San Ying Gate sent no one, and Monkey Qiu sent none either—"

"San Ying Gate reportedly doesn't want to get involved, but why did Monkey Qiu stay away? Doesn't he want revenge on Lu Dongjun?"

He Haisheng shook his head: "Monkey Qiu's intentions are hard to fathom—I wonder if the Lu family will soon bear the Qiu name?"

…

Inside the residence, Lu Dongjun was drenched in sweat.

A guard, face covered in wounds, rushed in: "Master, we searched all of Toudao Ridge—we couldn't find Master Wan!"

"Couldn't find him?" Lu Dongjun's cheek twitched. "If you couldn't find him, why come back to tell me?"

"Master, we can't hold out much longer."

"Where can't you hold out?"

"Nowhere! Master, there are experts hiding outside—several of our brothers are already dead!"

They killed my guards?

By these people?

Lu Dongjun wasn't meticulous about other things, but his personal guards were carefully selected—not only high in cultivation, but also extremely experienced.

It was obvious: someone ruthless had struck from the shadows.

Who was this ruthless one?

Surely from the powerful families and gangs.

Lu Dongjun rubbed his forehead and sat down on the living room sofa.

Three days ago, on this very sofa, Lu Dongjun had cursed out Chu's eldest son face-to-face—Chu Huaijun dared not utter a word.

The next day, in this same parlor, Lu Dongjun kicked Ma Junjiang—Ma Junjiang didn't even dare to breathe.

Who could have imagined such a turn of events so quickly?

Where was Wan Jinxian?

Had he failed to control the insect plague and fled first?

The more Lu Dongjun thought, the more terrified he became—he felt he'd trusted Wan Jinxian too much.

Another guard approached Lu Dongjun: "Master, the reporters are here—will you see them?"

Lu Dongjun waved his hand: "No."

The guard turned to leave.

Lu Dongjun called him back.

"Bring the reporters in—I have something to say."

Soon, the reporters entered; one cameraman took several photos of Lu Dongjun.

Another cameraman held a motion-picture device, recording nearby.

The reporter asked: "Mr. Lu, why have the House-Clearing Mosquitoes returned?

Is it because your medicine can't fully kill them, or was the dosage insufficient?"

Lu Dongjun spoke calmly: "The dosage was insufficient, but the root cause is cost—

The medicine is too expensive; I've faced financial strain, and recently, powerful families have held grudges against me, secretly sabotaging me, leaving me stretched thin."

The reporter stared in astonishment: "Mr. Lu, you mean you're out of money?"

Lu Dongjun nodded: "Yes, it's a money problem—but don't worry, I'm still here, I won't go anywhere.

I'm willing to sell my property, drain my entire fortune—even if I'm reduced to sleeping on the streets tomorrow—I'll eradicate the plague in Haichiling!

Please tell those outside: even if heaven falls, I, Lu Mou, will hold up Haichiling!"

Cameras flashed nonstop; the motion-picture device whirred continuously; the reporter's pen never left his notebook.

The interview ended; the reporters left.

Lu Dongjun told his guards: "I'm tired—I'll rest a while."

The guards stared in shock—outside, they're about to break in, and you're going to sleep?

Lu Dongjun couldn't possibly sleep.

Returning to his bedroom, he removed his false teeth and placed them inside the stone lion's mouth—the lion's eyes glowed, sealing the room.

Lu Dongjun took out Lu Xiaolan's necklace and swiftly changed his appearance.

It was the form of a guard.

This necklace was of extremely high rank—it was his only way out.

Lu Dongjun opened a hidden compartment in his wardrobe, revealing a guard's uniform.

Along with the clothes were dozens of thousands of silver dollars in checks and scattered cash.

Once prepared, Lu Dongjun leapt out the window.

Outside, he had two tasks: first, find Wan Jinxian if possible; second, collect cash from all his businesses and flee Haichiling as soon as possible.

If he couldn't find Wan Jinxian, his reputation was finished.

Then he'd have to rely only on real gold and silver, waiting for another chance to rise again.

…

A Red Staff Officer of Baihua Gate stood beside Grand Chief Zhang Xiuling, pointing at the guard exiting the residence and whispering: "That man in the vest—that's the guard who caused us trouble the other day. He's trying to run."

Zhang Xiuling glanced over and recognized the guard.

Two days ago, when she came to see Lu Dongjun, he refused to meet her; the Red Staff Officer had tried to defend her honor and clashed with this guard.

Zhang Xiuling didn't care about this minor figure—but the officer held a grudge: "Chief, wait here a moment—I'll be right back."

Zhang Xiuling frowned: "You're past fifty—why still act on impulse?"

The officer was over fifty, indeed not young—but that was his nature: "Chief, I must settle this score."

Zhang Xiuling sighed: "Be careful, and don't make too much noise."

"Don't worry," the Red Staff Officer departed.

In gangs, as long as it doesn't go too far, subordinates must be allowed to vent.

This officer was a sixth-layer Body Cultivator; Zhang Xiuling believed he wouldn't fail.

The Red Staff Officer followed the guard into a narrow alley, blocked his path, and smiled: "Still recognize me?"

The guard looked up at the officer but said nothing.

The officer chuckled: "Seeing your master's downfall, you're running off? Shouldn't we settle our old score?"

The guard remained silent.

Suddenly, the officer twisted his waist and whipped out a long tail tipped with a hook, aiming straight for the guard's head.

It was a scorpion.

The Stick-Lang unleashed a killing move at once; his boss had told him not to make too much noise, and he didn't want to get bogged down.

This strike was swift beyond measure—any ordinary person would be unable to dodge it; the scorpion's tail carried lethal poison, and once it drew blood, the target would die without fail.

Zhi Guai didn't dodge—he grabbed Stick-Lang's tail with one hand, twisted his wrist, snapped it off, and dropped it to the ground.

Stick-Lang was stunned. He had fought this Zhi Guai before and remembered him as nothing more than a Level Four Wu Xiu—impossible for him to have such skill.

He never imagined the man standing before him was actually Lu Dongjun.

Stick-Lang's left arm transformed into a pincer, and he leapt forward to attack Lu Dongjun.

Lu Dongjun seized the pincer, twisted his wrist again, and snapped it clean off.

Stick-Lang stood frozen, his body crippled, his mind growing hazy.

Lu Dongjun grabbed Stick-Lang's hair and used the broken pincer to crush his skull.

The situation was dire; Lu Dongjun had no time to dispose of the body and left at once.

Half an hour later, Zhang Xiuling sensed something was wrong and ordered men to search the area—they found Stick-Lang's corpse in the alley.

A Level Six Body Cultivator just died? Without a single sound?

Who could kill him so easily?

Zhang Xiuling thought for a moment, then summoned her subordinate: "Tell Uncle He San—Lu Dongjun has escaped!"

…

After walking through a wasteland, Li Banfeng saw sunlight he hadn't seen in ages.

He had left Xin Di—he had finally reached Haichiling!

His eyes struggled to open—not just from the blinding sun, but from the swarms of mosquitoes blotting out the sky.

There were too many mosquitoes; every breath risked one flying into his nostrils, making it hard for Li Banfeng to see his surroundings clearly.

When he finally saw clearly, he realized this was a village—just as simple and unspoiled as Lanyang Village.

Why compare it to Lanyang Village?

Because right before him stood a simple villager.

The villager had a ruddy complexion, glistening with thick oil—Haichiling was suffering from disaster, yet his health suggested he was eating well.

The man held a curved blade and said to Li Banfeng: "I want one of your hands. You won't die—I'll cut from the shoulder down, and once it's off, I'll let you go."

"Sounds scary, but losing a hand isn't so bad—my blade is razor-sharp, you won't feel a thing when I cut."

Li Banfeng stared in disbelief: "Really not painful?"

The man laughed: "Truly not. Don't believe me? Try it."

Li Banfeng nodded: "Which hand do you want? Left or right?"

The man tilted his head, studying Li Banfeng: "You think I'm joking? I'm cutting off one of your hands—do you understand? If you don't understand, look over there—there's a ready example."

Beside them, a woman was pinned to the ground by two strong men holding her mouth shut, while another held an axe, ready to chop off her arm.

On the ground lay many corpses—some missing limbs, others reduced to skeletons, yet all still had their heads.

No wonder they all gleamed with oil—they clearly hadn't starved.

These people still had some sense—they knew not to eat the head.

Famine.

This was famine!

In famine, men become ghosts.

The man looked at Li Banfeng: "Now that you understand, extend your hand. If you don't understand, your fate will be the same as theirs."

Li Banfeng's expression turned solemn: "I understand. I'm asking sincerely—do you want my left hand or my right?"

The man froze, a chill creeping up his spine.

Why wasn't this man afraid?

He gripped his blade tighter and said to Li Banfeng: "I want your left hand."

"Fine!" Li Banfeng stepped forward in a single stride, snatched the blade,

"You want the left? Then give me your right." *Squelch! Li Banfeng severed the man's right hand.

The man screamed, collapsed, and rolled on the ground in agony.

Li Banfeng frowned: "You said it wouldn't hurt. You lied. I'm not giving you the left hand either."

*Squelch!

Li Banfeng chopped off the man's left hand too.

The man passed out, motionless. The others stood frozen in terror—even the woman pinned on the ground was stunned.

They abandoned her, grabbing weapons and rushing to surround Li Banfeng.

Li Banfeng raised the blade and spoke to each one in turn.

"Which hand do you want? Left or right?"

"Can't decide? Then I'll cut both—you can pick later."

"What about you? You won't say either?"

"Then I'm cutting your legs!"

PS: My wife's about to have a feast!

Extra chapter tomorrow!

(End of Chapter)