Chapter 569: Regret Not Working Hard in My Youth

"Old bastard, old bastard!"

Cui Xing's face twisted into a snarl as he glared at Le Wenmao; his peripheral vision caught the sight of his mother and father's severed corpses, and he wanted to tear Le Wenmao apart alive.

He had bullied Liangshui Town for so many years; before he rose to power, he often took losses, but at most he would flee when he couldn't win, because no one would finish a matter to avoid bringing trouble upon themselves.

He never imagined that once he rose, using his brother's and Zhu Clan's eldest son's connections, he would unite the town's ruffians and engage in extortion.

Carrying out one task after another assigned by Zhu Xing brought him plenty of profit; his family was on the verge of becoming Liangshui Town's local rich landlord.

At the height of his glory, Le Wenmao showed up to cause trouble and, in front of him, slew his parents; he hated Le Wenmao and hated himself even more.

Since he leveraged his brother's and Zhu's eldest son's ties to unite the town's ruffians, he spent each day in leisure.

He no longer, as before, had to train diligently because other ruffians were eyeing him, forcing him to avoid conflicts without sufficient strength.

These years he devoted his energy to food, drink, and pleasure, abandoning rigorous cultivation, so he lacked the ability to rescue his parents from Le Wenmao's blade and could only watch helplessly as that old bastard slashed his parents to death.

"Old bastard, don't get cocky. When my men take you away, watch how I deal with you. If I don't tear you to pieces, I won't be called Cui Xing!"

Cui Xing silently swore, watching a group of towering warriors brandishing weapons approach Le Wenmao from all sides, forming a circle that enveloped him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw, not far away, Xuanqing Daozhang's party watching like spectators, and a low feeling of underestimation rose within him, thinking:

"That old priest can't be that undying one's helper, can he?"

He didn't know Xuanqing Daozhang or Wang Ping'an; Wang Ping'an was merely a one- or two-year-old child, unworthy of his attention. Yet he scrutinized Xuanqing Daozhang, and what unnerved him was that he could see no extraordinary quality in the old priest—just an ordinary Taoist—so he dared not be careless.

Who knows if that old priest is a wolf in sheep's clothing!

Just as Cui Xing worried that Xuanqing Daozhang might aid—or even rescue—Le Wenmao when he was at a disadvantage, wave after wave of anguished howls rang out, drawing Cui Xing's attention.

He had lured them with the promise of deputy leader, surrounding Le Wenmao. Once the circle was formed and Le Wenmao could not escape, he signaled with his eyes, and simultaneously the warriors leapt at Le Wenmao from all directions, but unexpectedly they did not harm him; instead, one after another were cut down by Le Wenmao on the ground.

"Impossible?"

Cui Xing shouted in shock; the violent movement tugged at his wounds, a searing pain like knives twisting erupted from all sides. Yet he could not concern himself with the injuries; he stared wide-eyed at the battlefield not far away, under the assault of the towering warriors.

One after another, the towering warriors fell by Le Wenmao's hand!

He had just fought Le Wenmao to the death; although his body bore many of Le Wenmao's wounds, he could gauge Le Wenmao's strength—roughly early-stage martial artist, one level above him. These towering warriors, though of martial artist level, couldn't be true masters, since Liangshui Town wasn't large enough to retain genuine experts.

These martial-artist-level hulks were already his elite troops, drawn in by various sums of money; relying on them allowed him to dominate Liangshui Town and its surroundings, something impossible with only his brother's connection to Zhu Clan's eldest son.

The most formidable was himself; without any skill, merely leveraging his brother's link to Zhu Clan's eldest son could not command the crowd.

One or two could never match that old immortal Le Wenmao, but many make great strength—many ants can kill an elephant.

Surrounded by so many warriors, even if Le Wenmao were a mid- or late-stage martial artist, he still couldn't stand against this horde of towering fighters.

"Carelessness—perhaps. These men have followed me and, though they've committed many misdeeds, never before have they needed to unite against a foe like this. It's likely their first joint effort, which explains the outcome. Once they become accustomed, Le Wenmao won't be a match for them…"

Cui Xing still wanted to defend these towering warriors a bit; after all, he had spent years pouring money into these bastards, hoping they'd be useful in the current situation. Yet now they not only fail to act, they can't even wound that old immortal Le Wenmao.

That meant all his years of money were wasted; if he didn't excuse himself, he'd feel extremely upset.

Few would willingly endure the experience of money sinking like water.

Let alone.

If all these people perish at Le Wenmao's hands, given that old bastard's cruelty, he might be the one who dies last.

"You bastards, all my years of money have been wasted; you are a bunch of useless trash!"

This novel you...

Cui Xing wanted to say something, but watching the towering warriors besieging Le Wenmao, after a long time none managed to wound him; instead one after another were cut down. He cursed, seeing they were clearly frightened by Le Wenmao's ferocity, and hurried to flee.

He knew exactly what these heavily paid hulks were—some skill, but only enough to win battles; knowing they'd lose, even if he lured them as 'deputy leader' or 'gang leader', the situation was hopeless.

Whether enticed as 'deputy leader' or forced, these bastards would run.

Who says: "Take life, spend money"—that's the phrase he always mutters about these bastards!

If he doesn't flee now, when these bastards are terrified by that old bastard Le Wenmao and scatter like birds and beasts, he'll be too late to escape.

"Uncle, act quickly, don't let Cui Xing get away!"

Cui Xing's gaze tracked every movement on the battlefield, watching one towering warrior after another fall gruesomely at his grandfather's hands, which caused the remaining warriors' attacks to hesitate. Just as they were about to praise his grandfather, his peripheral vision caught Cui Xing's sneaking retreat, prompting a hurried reminder.

(End of chapter)