C19 Tu Village!

As dawn broke, Xiaoming, perched atop a donkey cart, felt that something was amiss. The dirt road he traveled was the sole access to Great Tiger Village, yet not a single villager who normally left for work at this hour was in sight. Even the vegetable farmers who would be stocking up on supplies had vanished.

Could there have been an incident in the village? With this troubling thought, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Ripples emanated outward, much like the effect of a stone tossed into still waters. Soon, waves of information rippled back to him, causing Xiaoming's brow to furrow with concern.

Go, go, go, go, go, go!

In the distance, the Great Tiger Mountain, veiled in morning mist, resembled a colossal tiger at rest. To Wu Ziming, the village nestled at its base was the spitting image of the idyllic Peach Blossom Spring described by the poet Tao Yuanming.

Yet this earthly paradise was witnessing a hellish scene unfold. The village had been decimated, with a band of sword-wielding figures in white robes cutting down the defenseless villagers. They were at a loss as to why yesterday's guests had turned into today's executioners.

Some, however, had departed this world in their sleep.

A ravenous green-headed fly buzzed aimlessly over the fields until it detected the scent of decay. It hastened towards the source, only to be scattered by a sudden glint of light.

In the heat of summer, flies swarmed around the newly deceased, enveloping even the disciples tasked with clearing the scene. Attempts to disperse them with their powers proved futile.

The evening before, a wave of refugees had descended upon the village, desperate to seize food and people. In their direst hour, the Waning Crescent intervened, driving off the invaders. Yet those who had been their saviors now loomed as harbingers of death.

A white-haired, youthful-faced elder in white robes stood beside a stone mill in the village center, alongside a petite, charming girl. They waited in silence, seemingly detached from the carnage surrounding them.

Just the day before, five Outer Sect disciples had overstepped their bounds, hunting demon beasts across the border. The sect's rules dictated that such transgressions be met with harsh punishment.

However, that was all irrelevant. The disciples who had come to slay the demon beasts had stumbled upon the ruins by accident. It was surprising that a relic would appear in such a remote place without any noticeable fluctuations in spiritual energy.

To keep this discovery from other powers, they had no choice but to 'reluctantly' wipe out the village.

"Third Elder," a group of individuals in white and red garb knelt on one knee, offering their respectful salutations to the elder.

"Is everything secure with the ruins here? Has it all been taken care of?" the elder inquired, his tone even and detached as if discussing not the lives of villagers but a swarm of insects.

"Reporting to the Elder, not one has been spared. I have instructed Junior Liu to clean up the area," the leader of the white-robed group replied, his expression as devoid of emotion as that of the Third Elder.

A bray from a donkey drew everyone's attention. Two travelers on a donkey cart were watching them, visibly distraught.

A sweep of his spiritual sense revealed two young men, one a mortal and the other at the peak of Qi Refinement. Since the cultivators present were at least at the First Spark level, they paid the youths no mind.

The sight of villagers in simple attire, now stained with blood and lying on the ground, was stark. The earthy road was soaked red as the group in white busied themselves with the bodies. The vibrant lives that had been full of smiles just yesterday had turned into lifeless corpses.

And there, the mastermind behind it all was sizing him up with a bloodthirsty grin, rendering Wu Ziming speechless.

"Excuse us, we'll be on our way," Xiaoming said, hastily pulling the cart around. With the added responsibility of his companion, avoiding trouble was the best course of action. Revenge would have to wait until he was free of any liabilities.

A sword whizzed by, narrowly missing his ear, and embedded itself in the village signpost. The sword-wielding cultivator watched them with a smirk, while his companions scanned the two repeatedly, making Xiaoming uneasy.

It seemed that playing nice was no longer an option for Xiaoming.

"Here, take this crystal. Hold onto it if you're in danger; I'll hold them off," Xiaoming said, handing over a crystal he had crafted days earlier. But Ziming was paralyzed with fear, unable to respond for a long while.

"Am I hearing things, or did you just claim you could stop us? What gives a backwater bumpkin like you the audacity to think you're at the peak of Qi Refinement?"

Wu Ziming could hear the cultivators behind him, and their words were clear as day. The idea that someone at the peak of Qi Refinement could halt their progress was laughable—the most amusing thing he'd heard all year.

"Ants lacking in Qi."

"Our Senior Brother must think we're mere bandits from the mortal realm."

"Perhaps he fancies himself capable of defeating those stronger than himself."

"Hahahaha!"

The group exchanged banter, clearly underestimating the two before them. Even the strongest among them, Wang Xiaoming, was merely at the peak of Qi Refinement. No matter his strength, he was nothing but a slightly stronger ant to those in the First Spark realm.

"Senior Brother Xiao, let me handle these two ants. These mortals are of no interest. I'll take this junior sister at the peak of Qi Refinement. I've been perfecting a new technique and it's the perfect opportunity to test it out on her."

A petite and lively girl next to the elder spoke with enthusiasm. Her smile, revealing charming dimples, seemed sweet, yet to Wu Ziming, it was as chilling as the grin of the Grim Reaper.

"Ruo Lan, enough games. The Great Elder will arrive in half a day. Let's wrap this up quickly." The elder showed a rare smile, affectionately tousling the girl's hair styled in a bun.

"Grab A Mi and go. If danger arises, hold onto the crystal tightly," Wang Xiaoming instructed, positioning himself protectively in front of Wu Ziming.

After glancing at a terrified Wu Ziming, he sighed, gave the donkey a firm pat, and A Mi bolted, carrying Wu Ziming back in a frenzied dash. Xiaoming stood his ground at the village entrance, facing off against the cultivators.

"An insignificant ant dares to block the way? Ye Tian, take care of them. We can't afford to waste time," the Third Elder commanded, his focus on the greater goal of conquering the ruins. For the benefit of the sect, time was of the essence.

"Yes, Third Elder. My apologies, but I'll be claiming this junior sister's head," said a young man with striking features and a commanding presence, approaching the girl with a confident smile.

In most cases, his smile could enchant countless young women, but the girl before him was unimpressed, turning her head away in a huff. It was to be expected; she was the Sect Master's daughter, after all.

He chuckled and shook his head, well aware of his little junior sister's fiery temper. She was bound to stir up trouble in the future.

Then, like a change of face in a Sichuan opera, Ye Tian's demeanor shifted to one of mystery and restraint—there was no room for carelessness when facing an enemy.

His gaze sharpened as he positioned his sword horizontally across his chest. Dragon-shaped sword Qi coiled around the slender celestial blade, exuding a fearsome aura that even an ordinary First Spark practitioner wouldn't dare to challenge.

"Is that Dragon Slay? Senior Brother Ye is seriously using it against someone at the peak of the Mortal Realm?" A younger cultivator couldn't contain his excitement at the sight.

Ye Tian was known for keeping a low profile within the Inner Sect of the Waning Crescent, and rumors abounded of his having slain a Peak Primordial Cradle adversary. Now, they would finally witness his true power.

"To die by this technique would be the greatest honor of his life," someone remarked.

Senior Brother Xiao, with his arms folded, was also curious to gauge his junior brother's prowess. It appeared he had another formidable rival for the position of Sect Master.

"Look, look, is he petrified with fear?" The buzz of astonishment among the onlookers resembled that of a crowd of professional fans.

Having struck his pose, Ye Tian charged at the still Xiaoming. The dragon-shaped sword Qi, which had been twining around the blade, swelled with the wind, forming a dragon's head that emitted a resounding roar.

Xiaoming watched the peerless sword light hurtling toward his forehead with a calm detachment. He mused on the lack of originality among these cultivators; their attacks were all stabs, with no variation in technique.

From his wristwatch, he drew a peculiar handgun and fired at the oncoming Ye Tian. The bullet, bursting from the barrel, sped toward his adversary's forehead.

Ye Tian saw the bullet's path and halted, raising his sword to defend. The dragon-shaped sword Qi lunged at the bullet, which unexpectedly veered off course.

Ye Tian watched in disbelief as the bullet made contact with his forehead. The specially designed bullet for cultivators swiftly penetrated the back of his head, staining his white garment with a spray of crimson.

"Sigh, all flash and no substance. You folks really can't learn to adapt, can you?" Xiaoming blew the smoke from the barrel of his gun and stepped over Ye Tian's headless body on his way to the village.

"Brother Ye!" The cultivators stared in shock at Ye Tian, whose head had been blown off. They were completely taken aback. This was nothing like they had imagined. Such a death was absurdly tragic.

The group of cultivators unsheathed their swords and encircled Wang Xiaoming, their eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to threaten tearing him to shreds.

Unfazed by the impotent rage of the cultivators around him, he tossed aside his gun, revealing a peculiar belt at his waist. The mechanical gear belt, glowing with red light, emitted an eerie sound.

With the utterance of the final syllable, Wang Xiaoming was engulfed in black lightning. The disciple nearest to him was struck by the black lightning and reduced to ashes. Witnessing this, the others quickly backed away.

As the black light faded, Xiaoming stood clad in black mechanical armor. The chest and arms of his upper body were covered in a sleek grayish-white armor, while the rest was predominantly black with dark green accents.

His helmet resembled an insect with its jaws agape, adorned with horn-like fangs on the black faceplate, and a crimson mechanical eye that fixed on everyone present.

The Third Elder, who had been posturing from a distance, saw his armor and, far from angry, was actually delighted. He showed no sorrow for the death of his disciple.

"No wonder you're so bold. It appears you're an outsider demon."

From beneath the mask, Wang Xiaoming gave a slight smile. "Forty disciples and an elder of the Oneness Realm, attacking a village in the dead of night—there must be something remarkable here."

The Third Elder narrowed his eyes and spoke in a hostile tone, "Rather than these relics, I'm more interested in you, the outsider demon. Perhaps your system could trade for a Heavenly technique for my sect, which would be far superior to these unknown ruins."

"Stand back, all of you. This is not an adversary you can handle." He understood what an outsider demon was better than anyone. Sending his disciples to fight would be like sending them to their doom. It could even potentially give him the chance to make a breakthrough right there and then.