55

The nine martial artists, their eyes bloodshot, charged towards the onlookers, their blades slashing down without hesitation.

The short, stout man's attack was so rapid that his blade became lodged in an old man's shoulder blade.

He cursed, "Damn it!" and stomped on the old man's chest, pulling hard. With a "splat," blood splattered all over his face.

The woman holding her child was already silent with fear, but the child was still crying. The tall, thin man walked over, a flash of his blade, and the crying stopped abruptly. The woman's head rolled in the sand, her eyes still open.

They were like wolves charging into a sheepfold, killing one by one. In no time, they had slaughtered almost all the innocent civilians.

"Not bad, you were pretty quick," Qing Chen nodded, his face expressionless, seemingly quite satisfied with the brutal massacre.

He glanced at the corpses on the ground and ordered, "Pile the bodies under the rocks to the east, don't let them scatter. Xue Pingzhi, you keep an eye on them."

Xue Pingzhi quickly responded.

He looked at the nine martial artists, his eyes flashing sharply: "Hurry up! Anyone who dawdles, don't blame my sword for being blind!"

The martial artists dared not delay, frantically dragging the corpses, afraid of being even a step too slow.

Qing Chen ignored them, walked to an open space to the side, and took out several jade bottles from his robes.

These were spirit-storing bottles he had bought from the outer sect market, usually used to store loose spiritual items.

He pinched the bottle openings, a faint black aura emanating from his fingertips.

This was the starting stance of the *Brahma Demon Refining Technique*, first drawing qi into the body, then unleashing the demonic hand to extract essence and blood.

"Not bad bait," Qing Chen muttered to himself, reciting the incantation.

With a soft "hum," the air around him suddenly turned cold. Black energy emerged from his fingertips, transforming into a dozen semi-transparent little hands that floated towards the pile of corpses beneath the rocks.

The moment the little hands touched the bodies, thin lines of blood seeped from their surfaces, creeping up the hands and gathering into wisps of pale red mist.

The mist drifted slowly, like tiny snakes, circling Qingchen before slowly burrowing into the jade bottle.

Qingchen stared at the bottle's opening, a glint of fanaticism in his eyes.

The blood energy within this mist was incredibly potent. A martial artist's blood was dark red, while the blood of commoners was paler, yet together they formed an exceptionally thick mixture!

He added a touch of magic to his fingertips, making the demonic hands move even faster. More and more blood lines appeared on the pile of corpses, even causing the skin of the bodies to slowly dry out.

"My lord's magic... is truly sinister," Xue Pingzhi murmured, a chill creeping down his spine as he secretly glanced at the scene.

He watched as the mist seeped into the jade bottle, quickly condensing into blood droplets, each one sinking to the bottom, glowing red.

An hour later, the corpses on the pile of bodies had all dried into withered skin, and Qingchen finally withdrew his secret technique.

He shook the jade bottle, the blood droplets inside making a "whoosh" sound; there were several bottles full.

"That should be enough," Qingchen smiled with satisfaction, stuffing them into his storage bag.

After the martial artists had thrown all the dried corpses into the sea, Qingchen spoke: "You nine, go back to town with Xue Pingzhi. Remember, don't cause trouble. Do whatever Xue Pingzhi tells you to do."

As he spoke, he walked to the nine martial artists and touched the center of their foreheads with his fingertips.

Each martial artist trembled, feeling a chill creep into their brains, but dared not ask.

This was Qingchen's "Heart-Eating Forbidden Spell"; if they didn't get the antidote, they would die from excruciating headaches.

Xue Pingzhi had been cursed by him a few days ago.

“Xue Pingzhi, come here,” Qingchen beckoned.

Xue Pingzhi rushed over.

Qingchen’s gaze was as cold as a knife as he whispered to Xue Pingzhi beside him:

“You, take this old man to his house. Remember, this time don’t gag him; let him shout as he pleases, just to prevent him from committing suicide. Once there, torture and insult him however you like, just keep him alive, don’t kill him.

Also, I’ve already given you this old man’s daughter. Use this old man to force her to show herself. Then, she’ll be yours.”

Xue Pingzhi’s eyes lit up instantly, a sinister smile spreading across his face: “Thank you, Master! I will certainly do it perfectly!”

He turned and ran to the beach, grabbed the old mayor by the collar, and lifted him up like a rag doll.

The old mayor had only recently regained consciousness, blood still trickling from his mouth. The sudden lift by Xue Pingzhi caused him to howl in pain, but he didn't even have the strength to struggle.

"You beast! Have you forgotten who gave you your first bite of food? Who led you onto the path of martial arts?" the old mayor cursed. "You deserve to die a horrible death, you treacherous beast who betrays your master!"

Xue Pingzhi glanced down at him and smiled disdainfully:

"Hmph, old man, you dare bring that up? If you hadn't been selfish and secretive, unwilling to pass the mayoral position to me, how could I have ended up in such a state?

You knew I loved Zhu'er, yet you wouldn't betroth her to me! All of this is your own fault!"

He grew angrier with each word, raising his hand to slap the old mayor, causing the old mayor's mouth to fill with blood.

The martial artists followed behind, heading into the town.

As dusk fell, a dim light enveloped the area. The old mayor's screams continued unabated, yet no one dared to intervene.

Xue Pingzhi carried him to the gate of the Chen family mansion, kicked it open, and threw the old mayor into the yard.

With a thud, the old mayor landed on the flagstones, wincing in pain.

"Go, tie him to the pillar."

Xue Pingzhi ordered the martial artists behind him, then sat on the steps, sneering at the old town mayor.

"Old man, shout all you want. Shout as loudly as you can. Let the whole neighborhood hear what you look like, you old dog!"

The old town mayor, panting, looked at Xue Pingzhi's face and suddenly remembered twenty years ago.

Back then, Xue Pingzhi was only ten years old. He fainted from hunger at the Chen family's doorstep. The kind-hearted man gave him a bowl of porridge and even taught him martial arts.

But now, the person before him only had cruelty in his eyes; where was even a trace of that former self?

“Zhu’er… run away…” the old town head suddenly shouted into the air, his voice hoarse, “Don’t come back! Don’t save me!”

Xue Pingzhi’s face darkened. He stood up and kicked the old town head in the stomach: “I told you to shout? I think you’re tired of living!”

He squatted down and grabbed the old town head’s hair. “If you shout again, I’ll chop off your fingers one by one!”

The old town head cried out in pain, tears streaming down his face, but he still cursed: “You’ll die a horrible death! You’re all cut from the same cloth, you’ll all die sooner or later!”

Xue Pingzhi laughed: “Die? I have my master backing me now, how could I die? Hand over Chen Zhu’er now! Otherwise…”

As he spoke, he drew a dagger from his waist and waved it in front of the old town