Chapter 144: Ruthlessness and the Robe of Calamity Evasion

Muttering indistinctly, swaying as he moved about the stone chamber, Zhu Yidan looked as though he were sleepwalking. At last, he wandered over to the bandit named Yin Mao, picked up the short sword he had spat out, and waved it before his eyes.

“Father, your son will avenge you now.”

Mumbling to himself, Zhu Yidan took two steps forward with the short sword, then thrust it directly into a bandit's body. The stabbed bandit let out a wretched scream, and as Zhu Yidan withdrew the blade, the man collapsed in a pool of blood, convulsed a few times, and then lay still, all life gone.

This act sent a jolt of terror through the others in the chamber. Aside from Guo Dajing, the remaining six all cried out in unison, “Grandfather, spare us!”

Amid their desperate cries, Zhu Yidan let out a muddled laugh and said, “Good children, my grandchildren are obedient.”

The confused boy, having killed a bandit, retreated with a smile, backed into a wooden table, dropped the short sword from his hand, then sat on a wooden stool by the table and laid his head back down to sleep.

Witnessing this, the other bandits in the chamber immediately fell silent, not daring to breathe too loudly. Soon, Zhu Yidan’s snores echoed in the stone room. Even as the child slipped into deep slumber, none of the remaining bandits dared make a sound.

While snores drifted from the stone chamber at the pass, Zhou Qing, treading softly under the cover of night, had climbed the stairway to the summit of this solitary peak. At the end of the steps stood a grand stone archway. In the faint light, the characters “Gathering Righteousness Manor” could be faintly discerned upon it.

Beyond the arch was a small clearing, and behind that, a sprawling complex of buildings. Having reached the summit of Wolf Howl Mountain, Zhou Qing paused at the stair’s end, surveyed the mountaintop, then moved swiftly toward the buildings beyond the plaza.

Between the plaza and the buildings stood a tall stone wall, with a closed gate set into it.

Just as he had at the checkpoint halfway up the mountain, Zhou Qing dashed to the stone wall, scaled it with ease, and slipped inside. Behind the tightly shut gate, he found a stone chamber lit by lamplight. At a wooden table inside, two men lay slumped in sleep, surrounded by the remains of a meal and wine.

Pausing at the half-open door, Zhou Qing surveyed the scene, then acted decisively, crippling the arms of one sleeping bandit.

“Aaah—”

The man jolted awake from the agony, but before he could do more than glance at Zhou Qing, a slap sent him sprawling to the floor.

The commotion roused the second bandit, but Zhou Qing promptly crippled his hands as well and sent him tumbling after his companion.

Now both bandits, their arms ruined, huddled together, eyeing Zhou Qing in terror. One suddenly burst out, “You little—”

But before the curse was finished, Zhou Qing’s foot slammed down on his mouth, forcing the rest of the insult back down his throat. Zhou Qing used considerable force; when he withdrew his foot, the bandit’s mouth gushed blood, his teeth shattered by the blow.

Writhing in agony, the toothless bandit could think of nothing but the pain, his curses silenced. The other, wiser bandit, seeing his comrade’s fate, kept his mouth shut, watching Zhou Qing in fearful silence.

“Go on, shout—call for all the bandits in your stronghold to come here. Scream as loud as you can.”

With that, Zhou Qing slapped the screaming bandit twice more, then picked up a wooden stool, carried it outside, pushed open the gate, set the stool in the center, and sat down.

The two bandits, seeing Zhou Qing seated at the gate, rose shakily and ran back toward the cluster of buildings.

Once they had gone, Zhou Qing, by the light of the moon, noticed two unlit lanterns on the wall beside the gate. He formed a fire invocation with his fingers and pointed at the lanterns, which instantly flared to life, flooding the gate area with bright light.

With the lanterns ablaze, Zhou Qing reached to his treasure pouch at his waist and withdrew the black short blade he had found earlier on the mountainside, examining it closely.

This blade, capable of severing spiritual power, was a true treasure in Zhou Qing’s eyes. Since it could ignore spiritual defenses, it meant that if he ever faced a great demon or formidable evil, even if his cultivation was inferior, as long as he could get close, he could pierce their protective arts and strike a deadly blow.

Gazing at the black blade, aptly named “Ruthless,” a sudden thought struck Zhou Qing: could the calamity-warding robe he wore withstand its edge?

Acting on impulse, he lifted the hem of his robe onto the stool and pressed Ruthless down. Instantly, a small cut appeared on the hem.

Seeing the tear, Zhou Qing sighed inwardly, realizing his robe was not as strong as he had hoped.

After contemplating Ruthless for a moment more, Zhou Qing noticed a group of people approaching the gate. He put Ruthless away, drew his sword Illusory Peerless, gripped it tightly, and rose to face those coming toward him.

Soon, the crowd halted less than thirty feet from Zhou Qing. By the lantern light, he saw they numbered at least a hundred, their ranks dense and imposing.

At their head was a thin, dark-faced man clad in a yellow robe embroidered with cranes. His attire was nothing like that of the other ordinary bandits.

Indeed, this man was no ordinary bandit. Zhou Qing sensed a demonic aura emanating from him.

He had assumed the bandits here were mere mortals, so he had not activated his Celestial Eye. Now, detecting the demonic presence, he quietly gathered spiritual power into his eyes. With a blink, the yellow-robed man’s true form was revealed.

Surrounded by the crowd, less than thirty feet away, stood a large black rat at the forefront, its shifty eyes fixed on Zhou Qing. This rat was much larger than an ordinary rodent—nearly the size of a grown cat.