Broken stalks of spirit rice lay scattered everywhere, their fading spiritual essence mixing with the tallic stench of blood.
At the center of the field, the water path cultivator stood tall despite his miserable state. A deep gash split his forehead, blood streaming down his face and into his eyes. Several earthen spikes still protruded from his torso, piercing through flesh and bone, yet water qi continued to surge around him in heavy tides.
Opposite him staggered the silver devil masked cultivator marked with the number twelve.
His remaining arm had been torn away monts ago by a vicious sweep of water blades, leaving behind a mangled stump where flesh and bone were crushed together. Blood drenched the soil beneath his knees as he struggled to remain upright, his aura flickering so weakly it seed like a candle fla on the verge of going out.
Despite this, the water cultivator did not rush to kill. He stepped forward slowly, water energies coiling around his limbs like living serpents, his gaze filled with rciless calm.
"You are finished," he sneered, wiping the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Struggle all you wish. The outco will not change."
The masked cultivator coughed violently, blood splattering against the inside of his mask. His legs finally gave out, and he dropped fully to one knee, his palm pressing weakly into the mud.
’So this is the end...’
Pain wracked his body, yet it no longer felt sharp. Everything seed distant and dulled, as though he were already half a step beyond this world.
"Now, return to dust." The water path cultivator raised his hand without hesitation.
Water qi surged.
A dense shower of water blades erupted forth, multiple arcs of condensed liquid screaming through the air as they descended toward the kneeling figure.
The masked cultivator gritted his teeth. In that final heartbeat of desperation, he forced out every remaining wisp of spiritual essence. The ground around him surged upward as the earth answered his call. A small earthen do rose around his body just as the water blades struck.
Cracks spread almost imdiately, spiderwebbing across the surface. Compared to the massive structure he had summoned earlier, this one was thin and pitiful, no different from a paper umbrella before a mountain storm.
The water blades struck relentlessly.
Clang. Crack. Boom!
Layer after layer of earth was carved away. The do shuddered violently, chunks breaking off and dissolving into mud.
Inside the do, darkness closed in.
The masked cultivator slumped against the inner wall. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy. His spiritual essence was dried up.
’No more strength...’
He knew it then with absolute clarity.
Death was already here.
Scenes from his life rose uncontrollably before his eyes.
He saw himself as a barefoot child standing at the edge of his village, craning his neck as a cultivator flew across the sky. He rembered the awe that had filled his chest, how that single glimpse had planted a seed that would never fade.
He recalled the day he finally stepped onto the path of cultivation. His mother had held his hands tightly, her eyes red with pride as she dragged him to visit relatives who once sneered at their poverty. He could still hear their forced laughter and see their stiff smiles.
Then...
His thoughts shifted to the woman who had changed his life.
The first ti he t his wife, she had been a young woman standing under a plum tree, her smile gentle and her eyes shy. The first ti he spoke to her, his tongue had tied itself into knots. How deeply he had fallen, and how quickly. He rembered defying her parents and marrying her despite their anger. He rembered venturing deep into a beast lair a year later to retrieve rare herbs when she fell gravely ill. He rembered kneeling before her parents afterward, injured but smiling, earning their approval at last.
His chest tightened. The mory that cut deepest rose last.
Earlier that very morning, his wife had held her round belly, her face pale with worry. She had begged him not to take on this mission, tears sliding down her cheeks as she spoke of their unborn child.
"Please, husband..." she had said. "For the sake of our child, do not go."
’I ca anyway...’ the man thought to himself.
Not for greed.
Not for glory.
Only because he wanted his child to live a better life than he had.
’In the end... it was all for nothing.’ A bitter smile twisted beneath his mask as tears stread freely down his face.
’My child, forgive your unworthy father...’
Outside, the water cultivator narrowed his eyes. He changed his hand seals, focusing all the water blades on a single point. Again and again, they struck, hamring ruthlessly.
The do shuddered violently. It was reaching its end.
Inside, the masked cultivator could do nothing but cry.
"Lan’er..." he murmured weakly. "I am sorry... I am so sorry. If only I could be with you now... If only I could stay by your side forever... If only..."
His sobs were broken and hoarse, filled with regret and grief for everything that would never be.
Crack.
A fist-sized hole suddenly burst open in the earthen do. Cold air rushed in along with drifting mist and the faint scent of blood. Even then, he did not react. He simply continued to cry, for it was the only power he had left.
Ti seed to stretch.
Slowly, sothing felt wrong.
’I... I am still alive?’ His sobbing faltered as confusion crept in. With great effort, he lifted his head and peered through the hole.
What he saw emptied his mind.
The water cultivator lay sprawled on the ground, his head missing. Blood fountained from the neck, mingling with the dissipating remnants of water qi.
A few paces away stood another silver devil masked figure, casually holding the severed head by the hair.
The nural twenty glinted on the killer’s mask.
Jiang Chen.
For a heartbeat, the masked cultivator could not comprehend what he was seeing. Then realization struck him like lightning. Shock gave way to overwhelming joy. Laughter burst from his chest, wild and hysterical.
"I live! I live! The heavens have spared !"
He laughed until his throat bled, until his vision blurred.
Outside, Jiang Chen calmly activated his rit disc. Cold azure light swept across the corpse, recording the kill without a flicker of emotion.
The weakened earthen do finally collapsed completely, dissolving into loose soil.
The masked cultivator stumbled forward, blood flowing freely from his wounds. He threw himself at Jiang Chen’s feet and pressed his forehead into the mud.
"Benefactor!" he cried. "Thank you for saving my life!"
His voice cracked as he spoke, tears and blood mixing together. "My na is Li Qingshan. I swear eternal gratitude. From this day on, I will repay this life-saving grace even if it costs everything!"
Jiang Chen offered no reply. He stood like a monolith, rit disc in hand, calmly recording the corpse.
Confusion flickered through Li Qingshan’s heart. He raised his head slightly, trying to see Jiang Chen’s expression beneath the mask.
The world suddenly tilted. The underside of Jiang Chen’s shoe filled his vision.
Before he could react, overwhelming pressure slamd down against the side of his head. Jiang Chen’s foot pressed him into the dirt without rcy. His eyes bulged from their sockets as bones creaked.
There was a sick crunching sound. His skull burst like an overripe fruit, red and white splattering across the earth before the body twitched once and went limp.
As consciousness faded, Li Qingshan had only one question echoing endlessly in his mind.
’Why...?’
Li Qingshan did not understand.
Jiang Chen did not care for his understanding. He withdrew his foot and bent down, swiftly removing the storage bag from the corpse. Without sparing the body another glance, he retreated several steps.
Monts later, flas ignited from within the corpse itself. Pale fire began silently consuming flesh and bone alike. Within a few breaths, nothing remained but ash, carried away by the wind.
This was the effect of the special dicine forced upon every cultivator sent on this mission.
Jiang Chen scanned the storage bag briefly, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he checked its contents.
’Killing and looting truly are the fastest paths to riches.’ He tucked the bag into his robes, which already carried many other storage bags.
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he moved forward. ’So this is what wealth feels like. For soone who once counted spirit stones one by one, it truly feels unreal.’
He advanced toward his next marked target.
Suddenly, a thunderous boom split the field as a figure descended from above, smashing into the ground and sending cracks racing outward. Dust billowed violently, obscuring everything. Jiang Chen halted, his eyes narrowing as spiritual essence surged within him.
From the swirling dust, a tall figure shrouded in dark clouds strode out. A golden Buddha mask glead faintly beneath the shadows. Killing intent poured forth like a tidal wave.
The newcor locked his gaze on Jiang Chen, his voice like grinding stones. "Explain yourself, number twenty."
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