Chapter 325: Clean the Castration

Crossing the mountain and crossing the river, they finally returned to the village.

When the villagers saw Qu Le dare to return, they immediately shouted and called their neighbors, grabbing hoes and rushing toward him—

Hearing the shouts, villagers poured out from their rooms and kitchens, grabbing hoes, kitchen knives, and wooden sticks, racing toward the village entrance—

Some villagers were still working in the fields; hearing the faint cries, they stopped their work, listened for a moment, then shouldered their hoes and sprinted back—

Pan Yun, the three others, the cat, and the criminal met the flood of villagers just beyond the village entrance.

Confirming it was Qu Le, the villagers raised their hoes and kitchen knives and shouted: "Too much! Do you think our village is made of mud? Any thief dares come here? Brothers, kill him!"

Even though Qu Le's Wu Gong far surpassed theirs, their fury momentarily intimidated him—and with mob violence, even the best fighter can't fight off four hands; if they truly fought to the death, he might actually be cut down.

Qu Le cried out urgently, "Wait… Pan Sanzhu, you explain for me!"

Pan Yun immediately stepped in front of him, raising her hand to stop them: "Wait a moment, this little thief has already been captured by me. He just helped me catch the flower-plundering bandit Hua Buliu. We're just passing through, tired, and came to borrow a bowl of water."

The villagers fell silent.

Da Chun pushed through the crowd, shouldering his hoe as he stared darkly at Pan Yun: "Who did you say you caught?"

Qu Le slammed the figure on his back onto the ground; Pan Yun paused, then introduced to the villagers: "This unconscious man, missing one hand, is the flower-plundering bandit Hua Buliu."

Da Chun's gaze snapped to the miserable man on the ground, his face dark. He stepped forward with his hoe and asked grimly: "You say he's him? What if he isn't?"

Pan Yun thought for a moment, then nodded: "You're right."

She pulled out her needle-and-thread kit from her Spirit Realm space and drew a needle, handing it to Qu Le.

Qu Le took it, utterly bewildered.

Seeing Miao Zhen glanced at him: "Stab his sole."

Qu Le: …

Seeing Miao Zhen added: "You're the captured thief now."

Pan Yun also glanced over.

Qu Le could only grit his teeth, stepped forward, yanked off Hua Buliu's shoes and socks, grimaced in disgust, turned his face away, then drove the needle deep into the sole with force.

Everyone involuntarily curled their toes, feeling a pang of pain.

Of course, only Hua Buliu truly felt the pain.

Qu Le stabbed once; seeing Hua Buliu only convulse but not wake, he stabbed rapidly several more times. The final needle struck some unknown spot—suddenly, Hua Buliu's eyes flew open, drenched in cold sweat, his whole body curling up in agony.

Everyone stared in silence, stepping back half a step.

Only Da Chun stepped forward, staring down at the man, his face grim: "Are you the flower-plundering bandit?"

Hua Buliu's vision blurred from pain, figures indistinct, voices muffled. He snarled: "Kill me if you will, cut me if you will—don't torture me like this!"

"You really are the flower-plundering bandit…" Da Chun's eyes blazed with hatred. He raised his hoe to smash it down on the man's head.

Pan Yun grabbed his swinging hoe, her expression still calm, even faintly smiling. She asked: "Good man, think carefully—kill him, and you'll go to prison."

Da Chun yanked back at the hoe, shouting: "I kill a flower-plundering bandit—why should I go to prison?"

Pan Yun said: "Ask the Emperor and imperial court officials that. I'm just a Daoist Priest—merely reminding you of the law."

She added: "Whether you kill him or not makes no difference to me."

Other villagers snapped back to reality, rushing forward to hold Da Chun back, urging: "Don't waste your whole life over this man! Your elderly mother and wife and children depend on you—if you go to prison, their lives are ruined."

Da Chun barely regained his senses, still struggling, when Zhou Wan Niang ran up, pushing through the crowd.

Everyone fell silent.

Da Chun saw his wife, looking at her with resentment and pity: "Why did you come?"

Zhou Wan Niang ignored him, walking straight to Hua Buliu's side to look at him.

Hua Buliu's pain had subsided enough for him to see clearly.

He looked up and realized he was surrounded by villagers—and the woman standing before him was the very one he'd been watching these past days.

He grinned at her, maliciously: "Little miss has come—did I please you that day?"

Her face was different, but the moment he spoke, Zhou Wan Niang recognized him. She froze, face icy: "It's him. It's him!"

"That's right, it's me," Hua Buliu stared at her, his gaze sliding from her chest to her waist, licking his lips: "Half a year's passed, yet I still remember the taste of little miss…"

"Ahh—" Da Chun finally snapped. He screamed, shoved aside those holding him, rushed forward, and kicked and punched Hua Buliu. Zhou Wan Niang turned and walked away. Pan Yun glanced at her back, then leapt backward, avoiding Da Chun's charge.

Seeing Qu Le still standing dumbly, she grabbed his arm: "Are you stupid? Can't you even dodge?"

Qu Le: "... What if he gets beaten to death?"

Pan Yun: "I'm just passing through, asking for water. The crowd's enraged, too many people hitting him—who knows who landed the blows?"

Da Chun's mind was consumed by rage, his eyes bloodshot. He kicked Hua Buliu's head, chest, and abdomen—

Though his Upper Dantian was destroyed and he was Suffering heavily, his instincts remained. As Da Chun's first kick came, he rolled aside, using his back to block—

A cold gleam flashed in his eyes. He rolled twice on the ground; Da Chun's three kicks missed, and he flew into a rage, lunging to pin him down and pummel him with fists.

Hua Buliu took two solid punches, but showed no anger. His mangled right hand curled into a claw, reaching for Da Chun's throat—but as he raised it, a pebble struck it. His hand went numb, dropping uselessly—

Da Chun knew nothing of this. He sat atop Hua Buliu, raining wild punches down, unleashing six months of pent-up hatred and fury.

The villagers also loathed this flower-plundering bandit. They rushed forward, joining Da Chun, occasionally kicking or punching Hua Buliu—

Now, no need for Pan Yun—Hua Buliu could never take a hostage. Too many people. His hand barely rose before a kick struck it, or someone grabbed it, followed by another flurry of blows.

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Hua Buliu finally grew terrified—he felt he was about to die, beaten to death by these people.

He could only rely on instinct and experience to shield his vital neck and head.

But he kept getting kicked, punched, choked—if not stopped, he would surely die…

The thought had barely formed when he faintly heard a sharp cry: "All of you, get out of the way!"

Zhou Wan Niang, who had run off, now ran back, holding a pair of scissors, shoving aside several villagers.

The villagers, caught up in the fight, were annoyed—but when they looked up and saw Zhou Wan Niang's eyes filled with murderous intent, they wisely stayed silent and stepped aside.

The villagers stepped aside, revealing Da Chun, who knelt at the very back, punching at Hua Buliu.

He had been thrown off when Hua Buliu dodged; surrounded on all sides by villagers, he couldn't stand, so he knelt and kept swinging his fists at Hua Buliu.

Zhou Wan Niang shoved him away, and Da Chun, his eyes bloodshot, glared up at her. "What are you doing? Protecting this adulterer?"

Zhou Wan Niang raised the large scissors in her hand and said coldly, "Move!"

Da Chun froze, then silently shuffled two steps backward.

Zhou Wan Niang stepped past him and stood beside Hua Buliu. Hua Buliu struggled to lift his head, saw it was Zhou Wan Niang, and opened his mouth to joke—when she raised the scissors and slashed down viciously…

Hua Buliu's eyes widened. He tried to dodge, but Zhou Wan Niang was too fast—he barely lifted his leg when the scissors plunged down…

The pain in the corpus cavernosum took a moment to reach his brain. Hua Buliu screamed, his eyes bulging with agony, more painful than when Pan Yun had destroyed his Upper Dantian.

But Zhou Wan Niang didn't stop. She estimated the position, pulled the scissors free, and stabbed down again and again—seven or eight times—then opened the blades and hacked wildly at his crotch. Blood, fabric, and chunks of flesh flew everywhere. The scene fell silent except for Hua Buliu's screams and the relentless clanging of the scissors.

The male villagers felt a chill in their groins, the cold racing up their spines to their skulls; all stepped back two paces involuntarily.

Even Da Chun, kneeling nearby, felt his legs go weak. He crawled two steps back and collapsed onto the ground, staring dumbfounded at his wife, her face splattered with blood, now even more monstrous.

Qu Le cowered behind Pan Yun and Seeing Miao Zhen, trembling, lips quivering: "H-he… can he still live?"

Pan Yun stepped back too, swallowed hard, and said, "Sh-should be fine… I think."

Only after Zhou Wan Niang had cut him to shreds did the village women finally rush forward, grabbing her hands and embracing her. "Da Chun's wife, you've cleaned it out. That's enough."

The women surged forward, instantly surrounding the inner circle. They pulled Zhou Wan Niang up from the ground, lifting her away. As they passed Hua Buliu, one kicked him, another stomped on him, urging Zhou Wan Niang: "I took a look—it's all shredded. If you still feel guilty, go get a knife later, slit his lower belly, and pull out the last bits to cut them clean."

One male villager quickly spoke up: "Zhang Niangzi, don't talk like that…"

"What nonsense? Isn't this just like castrating pigs or chickens? What's hard about it? I've always castrated our chickens—I know what I'm doing. Zhou Wan, tell me: should we snip the root too?"

Zhou Wan Niang snarled: "Cut!"

A group of women rolled up their sleeves, ready to get to work.

Pan Yun stepped forward immediately. "Sisters, why not let the next family handle this?"

Everyone turned their heads. "Next family?"

Pan Yun nodded frantically, swallowed hard, and whispered: "There's more than one victim. Several families are affected. You've already cut him clean—what about the next family's rage? Leave it to them."

Everyone looked at Zhou Wan Niang.

(End of Chapter)