Chapter 292 - 129: Gu Xiangzhu: I Bet My Youth on You, But in the End, You Made Me Lose?

Chapter 292: Chapter 129: Gu Xiangzhu: I Bet My Youth on You, But in the End, You Made Me Lose?

「Ten days later.」

「The Tianmeng Mountain Range.」

In a nameless mountain hollow.

Yang Mo panted heavily, his body covered in dark, filthy blood. He trembled uncontrollably from a mixture of excitement and lingering fear.

Before him.

Lay a decapitated corpse.

Its head had rolled into the grass, its eyes wide open, its face a mask of fury and resentment.

The headless torso still clutched a blade in a death grip, its skin tinged a deathly, bluish-black.

This was the source of the filthy blood covering Yang Mo.

"GASP, GASP..."

He gulped down air, the muscles in his face twitching grotesquely.

This dead man was the second-in-command of a small bandit stronghold in the Tianmeng Mountain Range, a cultivator who had already reached the Bone Forging Stage.

For someone of his level to be a second-in-command, it was obviously not a major stronghold. They only dared to rob ordinary travelers and the common folk living in the mountains. They wouldn’t dare touch any caravan escorted by a proper Cultivator.

Even the local Government Office couldn’t be bothered to hunt them down. Capturing a minor stronghold that was weak, posed little threat, and was as slippery as an eel was simply a waste of effort.

But it was enough. Every single bandit inside could be converted into merit.

Yang Mo knew he couldn’t take on the entire stronghold. Even in a one-on-one fight, there were no fewer than five bandits who could have defeated him.

So, he didn’t confront them head-on. Instead, he caught a rat, sealed a poison pouch inside its stomach, and then fed it a pill that would induce an insatiable thirst.

After swallowing it, the rat would frantically search for a water source.

And on this mountain peak, there were no streams, only a well.

Naturally, the rat died in the well. A slow-acting compound poison spread through the water, killing all the low-level bandits in the stronghold. Only a handful of the more skilled members managed to resist the poison and flee, but he had already hunted them down and killed them one by one.

The process, of course, had been fraught with peril.

His cultivation was only at the Body Refining Stage. His only advantages were the high grade of his Flesh Soul and his Celestial Demon Pattern, which granted him superior strength and defense.

There were several times he had come close to death.

If not for the toxin in the pouch that slowed his enemies’ movements, he would have sustained at least twenty fatal wounds by now.

But thankfully, he had succeeded.

His entire body was trembling. The Celestial Demon Pattern on his skin flickered with his tremors, visibly brighter than it had been before he came to this mountain.

’Break, then rebuild!’

’Destroying all that should not exist—that is the cultivation of the Celestial Demon Pattern.’

’If I could wipe out a bandit stronghold like this every day, I might be able to raise my cultivation to its peak within half a year.’

’Unfortunately, that peak is still a far cry from the true summit.’

’So, should I try to contact the Demon Sect?’

Yang Mo’s breathing finally calmed, and he was forced to consider more practical matters.

This one tiny stronghold alone had nearly cost him his life, and it had taken him days of reconnaissance and planning.

Although the Celestial Demon Pattern could strengthen his physical body to a degree he’d never dreamed of before, at best, it would only get him into the top ten of this year’s Prefecture Contest.

’Is just the top ten really what I want?’

’If I contacted those in the Demon Sect who are loyal to the Demon Monarch...’

SLAP!

Yang Mo slapped himself across the face.

"You fool!"

"Without the status of the Demon Monarch, can’t you make something of yourself?"

"They don’t want the reincarnation of the Demon Monarch; they want the Demon Monarch himself."

"If you were infused with the Demon Monarch’s memories, would you still be Yang Mo?"

"Hah..."

Yang Mo let out a long breath, suppressing the thought.

He looked down at the second-in-command’s severed head and seemed to see his own future in it.

His body had yet to completely calm down.

The uncontrollable, lingering fear remained.

But compared to the nervousness he’d felt before acting, this fear had been greatly diminished.

As long as he kept up this pace, killing nonstop until next March, the timid, flinching nature he had developed would vanish completely.

Then.

He would avenge his parents.

And he would see the old couple off with dignity.

Then, there would be nothing left in this world to bind his heart. ℴ𝒗ⅇ𝑙.

The cowardly Yang Mo of the past, that humble weakling.

He too would vanish from this world!

"HAHAHAHAHA..."

Yang Mo threw his head back and laughed, a wild and crazed sound. When he had finally laughed his fill, he picked up the head from the ground, casually hung it behind his back, and ambled toward the stronghold.

There, fifteen other heads were stored.

He was going to string them all together and take them to the Government Office.

Inside the stronghold.

He found the well. Seeing the water was still crystal clear, he couldn’t help but frown.

It was filled with poison. This poison would likely follow the water veins and spread to the villages at the foot of the mountain. Though diluted, its toxicity might not be great, but if the common folk there drank it over a long period, the entire village would be dead within a decade or so.

But poisoning was easy; purifying was hard.

After so many days, the water veins were already saturated. To cleanse the poison, the only way was to...

’The only way?’

Yang Mo slapped himself again, disgusted.

’They’re just a bunch of weaklings.’

’Why should I care about them?’

He shook his head, then took his blade and began searching the houses one by one.

「A quarter of an hour later.」

He left the stronghold without a backward glance, dragging a string of heads behind him.

...

Ever since that Martial Arts Competition.

Lingge had returned to being a prosperous and peaceful city.

The Prefecture Contest seemed to have nothing more to do with the city. Every noble house was frantically busy, and Lingge felt like just a place for them to submit and receive missions, or to rest temporarily.

The ten people from Prince Lie’s Mansion didn’t even stop to rest. When they left, they accepted all the available missions from the Yellow Sea region in one go. After all, they had experts from the Imperial Clan Court following them; all they needed to do was report in regularly.