Chapter 24: The Strange Occurrence (Part Three)

Yao Qian said nothing, merely nodding to indicate he was fine.

Old Wang glanced at the wound on Yao Qian’s chest, his expression growing grim. He seemed lost in thought for a while before finally speaking, “It’s good you’re alright.”

Turning to the rest, he continued, “Search! Search everywhere. Even if you have to dig three feet into the ground, you must find where that old villain has hidden the people.”

The others straightened at his words, their spirits visibly lifted as they crowded into the courtyard. Soon, the sound of rummaging—boxes being overturned and furniture being smashed—echoed from inside.

Yao Qian understood well. These men risked their lives to help him eliminate Chen Shanqi, the master of the Heart-Crushing Palm, not out of genuine kindness, but for profit.

Profit! The bustling world moves for gain; all its commotion is driven by self-interest.

Without sufficient incentive, they might act, but only half-heartedly. Now, with lives lost, if there were no reward, they might turn against Yao Qian and Old Wang themselves.

The sounds of destruction continued to resound from within. Old Wang pretended not to hear, walked to a stone chair, and sat down. He helped himself to two small dishes on the table, poured a cup of fine wine, and drank alone.

Yao Qian remained seated cross-legged, tending his wounds. The pills and ointments he had applied earlier were working; his chest wound felt cool and soothing.

After more than a quarter of an hour, the men emerged from the courtyard, each with a broad smile, evidently having found many valuables inside.

Yao Qian paid them no mind; the greatest treasure already rested in his hands. Old Wang, uninterested in their findings, drained his cup and asked, “Did you find the hidden people?”

The men all shook their heads, and Old Wang’s expression darkened.

A tense silence fell.

Yao Qian knew that without evidence of hidden captives, their mission would be inconclusive, and the authorities might question their actions.

Not only would the magistrate suffer, but they themselves would gain nothing.

The others seemed to realize this as well, their faces growing somber. Old Wang spoke at the right moment, “Enough. Search the courtyard again—especially the dungeon, any mechanisms. Don’t overlook a single spot.”

Hearing this, the men understood the importance and returned to searching the courtyard.

Old Wang, his appetite for wine gone, joined them.

Yao Qian remained unmoving. After a long while, he finally opened his eyes and glanced at the ongoing commotion. He approached Chen Shanqi’s corpse, drew Bloodkill, and sliced down with a single stroke.

Blood spurted, staining the flagstones crimson.

He set the severed head aside and kicked the corpse, causing a round object to roll out.

“What’s this?” he murmured, bending down to pick up the black bead at his feet and examining it closely.

The bead was cold to the touch, resembling a glass marble but somehow different.

He held it up, scrutinizing it as it trembled in his hand. His gaze gradually grew dazed.

“Master, master… do you think I’m beautiful?” a soft, coy female voice whispered in his ear, melting his bones.

Yao Qian turned, and a few paces away stood a stunning young maiden draped in sheer gauze. Her chest was adorned with a white garment embroidered with blossoms, revealing the valley between her breasts. Her legs were wrapped in white stockings, reaching up to her thighs, nearly indistinguishable from silk.

A breeze stirred her gauzy robe, revealing a dark silhouette between her legs.

She stood poised for him to take, her smile radiant, her eyes sparkling, both shy and teasing as she asked.

Heat surged from Yao Qian’s chest and abdomen, forcing him to swallow.

He could not understand how, but the girl before him seemed so lovely, like a goddess who haunted his dreams, making him ignore any oddities.

“Master, master, come to me…” she beckoned with milk-white arms, drawing him closer.

Unconsciously, he stepped forward, reaching for her outstretched hand. A faint fragrance lingered in his nostrils, making him sigh in pleasure as he grasped her soft, smooth fingers, cool as jade. A chill crept into his arm, causing his body to stiffen.

He wondered at this, but the girl, innocent and smiling, pulled him toward her chamber, as if to surrender herself wholly to him.

Suddenly, a suction force burst from his hand, followed by a sharp, surprised scream.

His vision cleared instantly—there was no beautiful maiden, no goddess.

A gust of wind chilled his back, and sweat beaded on his brow.

He gasped for breath, his mind reeling in uncertainty. Was it all an illusion?

He squeezed the bead in his hand, sensing something amiss. Looking down, he found the black bead had turned to ashes.

Could it be…?

He was no fool; after two encounters, he knew he had just been bewitched.

Yao Qian’s face darkened, and he murmured, “Blue Star.”

A blood-red panel appeared below his eye, and he quickly scanned the information.

Yao Qian—
Five Tiger Gate-Cleaving Blade: Third Stage (Minor Mastery)
Iron Cloth: First Stage
Binding Technique: Novice
Potential: 6

So, it was as he suspected. Seeing his potential had increased, he realized his guess was correct—he had been plagued by a malicious spirit.

He had not expected such power from a mere object left behind by the spirit, able to trap him in illusion so completely. If not for Blue Star saving him at the critical moment, the consequences would have been dire.

The more he thought, the worse his mood became. He had slain Yu Hongchuan, the Bone-Splitting Hand, and Chen Shanqi, the Heart-Crushing Palm, feeling proud and inflated by his achievements.

Masters who had made their names for decades, even transformed into monsters, had fallen by his blade—such satisfaction was beyond words.

But compared to these spirits, he was like a newborn. Even a single item from them could have killed him with ease.

No, his progress was still too slow. If he truly met such a spirit, he would be doomed.

He clenched his fist tightly, a powerful sense of impending danger rising in his heart, as if something dreadful was about to happen.