C9 The Free Always Gets the Most Expensive
While weighing the meat, Butcher Zhang struck up a conversation with Xiaoming, sharing the local gossip and his experiences in Wild Sand City.
In the Scourgeward, located to the west of the Qian Continent, the Devil Sect, the Celestial Chorus, and the Hundred Fragrance Valley have been locked in a perpetual conflict. Typically, the mortal soldiers bear the brunt of the casualties before the cultivators even enter the fray.
This time, forces from the Scourgeward and numerous cities across the Qian Continent were mobilized, amassing over four hundred thousand soldiers and an uncountable number of conscripted civilians. Yet, only a handful of cultivators, a few dozen to a few hundred, actually took part in the war. It was less a battle between cultivators and more a case of cultivators compelling mortals into combat.
The war's spark was a trivial romantic dispute from decades past. Zhao He, the young sect master of the Devil Sect, had abducted the Holy Maiden of the Hundred Fragrance Valley during her wedding ceremony with the Celestial Chorus' young sect master. Decades later, the conflict still rages, fueled by the grudge over the stolen bride.
Rumor has it that Zhao He's son, born of the Holy Maiden, now commands the war from the Devil Sect's Amber Fortress. The sight of the Devil Sect's leadership is said to turn the Celestial Chorus' Sect Master green with rage, with whispers suggesting that the Holy Maiden may have actually eloped with Zhao He.
"Stop, stop, stop!" Xiaoming interjected, seeing Butcher Zhang's growing enthusiasm. "Old Zhang, you're just sharing gossip with me, aren't you?"
Xiaoming had a penchant for gossip, but having been in this world for nearly a decade, he was no stranger to the affairs of the Devil Sect. Without the corrupting energy seal, the Celestial Chorus would have fallen long ago, especially with a Half-saint in their ranks.
"Tsk tsk, these so-called cultivators are more like emperors from ancient legends. Alas, we mere mortals will never witness the grandeur from atop those lofty peaks."
After finishing his speech, Butcher Zhang sighed with envy, his hands deftly working the beads of his abacus with a rapid clatter.
"I can't help but envy those people's lives, but it's not for me. My only hope now is to see if Xiaolan's future child will have the makings of an immortal."
Butcher Zhang wasn't wrong. In this world, there was no clear path to ascend to the upper echelons of society. For women, it was somewhat easier; a fair appearance could open doors.
For men, however, it was a different story. Since the Immortal World took over the Wilderness and the old dynasty fell, the Wilderness had entered an era of cultivation. Now, the only way to rise up was through the cultivation of one's abilities.
The fundamental reason for the lower class's plight was their lack of talent, and their inability to produce offspring with such talent.
This gave rise to a unique social structure in the Wilderness: commoners would always remain commoners, and immortals would always be immortals.
Quelling the frustration in his heart, Butcher Zhang slid the abacus across to Xiaoming. "That'll be two thousand two hundred and thirty-three taels. I'll round it down for you."
"Two hundred and twenty-three?"
"You wish. Two thousand taels," Butcher Zhang said as he took the money, not forgetting to remind Xiaoming to attend the village feast in a few days.
"On the nineteenth? Sure, I'm curious to see who's lucky enough to take Xiaolan as his wife."
After a brief chat, Xiaoming loaded the crate full of meat onto his donkey cart.
Wu Ziming, slight of build, lacked the strength for such a task and shuffled towards the cart, struggling with the weight. Ultimately, it was Butcher Zhang who helped him hoist it aboard.
Once they finished purchasing vegetables from the local farmers, the pair set off in the donkey cart to head back home.
As they approached the village entrance, they were surprised to see a group of villagers surrounding five figures in white, ushering them into the village.
The man leading the group had a stern face and an impressive demeanor. Flanking him were two tall beauties, one statuesque and dignified, the other petite and lively. Though neither possessed breathtaking beauty, their charm was enough to draw admiring glances from the surrounding villagers.
Regarding the two men trailing behind the first, one bore the look of a lackey, while the other had the air of a scholar—calm and restrained, likely a master in his own right.
"Brother Xiaoming, who are they?" Wu Ziming, though not a cultivator himself, felt instinctively uncomfortable in the presence of their imposing auras.
"Notice the sword insignia behind them? That's the mark of Qi Controlling Cultivators, capable of sword flight. Remember, don't do anything rash."
While they were talking, Xiaoming noticed the crescent moon emblem peeking from the cultivators' sleeves—a symbol of the Waning Crescent Sect. He was puzzled as to why a sect from thousands of miles away would come to this place.
"Ziming, stay here and don't make any sudden moves. I'll go find out more." Without waiting for a response, Xiaoming hopped off the carriage.
Upon inquiring, Xiaoming learned that a Demonic Beast had appeared in the nearby mountains in recent days. Ordinary beasts could be handled by hunters with traps, but this creature's hide was so tough that not even the strongest bows could scratch it, and it moved too swiftly to be seen clearly.
After several failed hunting attempts and the loss of many villagers, they had no choice but to seek the help of cultivators to eliminate the Demonic Beast, prompting the village chief to journey to Wild Sand City.
The five cultivators, noble of heart, had come posthaste to aid Great Tiger Village upon hearing of its plight.
After listening to the village chief's account, an eager Xiaoming proposed, "Why not let me hunt this Demonic Beast? I'm free anyway."
The elderly village chief swiftly intervened to prevent Xiaoming's brashness.
"Bows and arrows are useless against it. The beast is surely beyond the Qi Control Realm. Xiaoming, you're only at the peak of the Qi Refinement Realm—it's too much for you to take on."
Despite the chief's attempts to dissuade him, Xiaoming remained undeterred. The village chief then confided, "Moreover, these cultivators are offering their services free of charge. Hehe..."
Upon hearing that the services were free, the village chief's face lit up, his wrinkles blooming into a chrysanthemum of joy. The village wasn't poor, but neither was it wealthy. Hiring cultivators to rid them of the Demonic Beast would mean tightening their belts in the days to come. They might as well not bother; at worst, they would simply avoid the mountain.
Life had to go on, after all. The farmers prioritized the present over the distant future, not out of myopia, but out of necessity.
Xiaoming was well aware of this. "Village chief, I've told you time and again, nothing is more expensive than something offered for free. Why won't you listen?"
The old man's weakness was his penchant for a bargain. Who would offer help without an ulterior motive? If they did, it was likely a trap.
"Don't overestimate yourself, Xiaoming. There are good people among the cultivators," the village chief said with heartfelt concern, hastily grabbing Xiaoming's arm to stop him from approaching the cultivators.
To the village chief, Xiaoming was being overly suspicious. In such an insignificant village, what could possibly attract the attention of these high-and-mighty cultivators?
Xiaoming, however, had his doubts. He sensed something amiss with the group of three men and two women. Each sect had its own domain.
Take the Waning Crescent, for instance, situated at the crossroads of two continents in the southeast Wilderness.
The distance from their location in the Qian Continent to Eventide was well over a thousand miles, far beyond their usual range. For cultivators, encroaching on another's territory was a grave offense, tantamount to declaring war on the local powers.
They must see some potential gain in this small mountain village to take such a risk. Moreover, Xiaoming couldn't overlook the dynamic between the cultivators and the transmigrators.
With these thoughts in mind, Xiaoming's lips curled into a subtle smile. "Let me lend a hand. The more, the merrier."
The lead young cultivator furrowed his brow upon hearing someone wanted to join their hunt for demon beasts. He glanced back at Xiaoming and, after sensing the pulse of his true essence, let out a scornful chuckle.
"Old man, you're doubting us? The five of us are more than enough, and this peak Qi Refinement cultivator will just get in our way."
The lead cultivator viewed Xiaoming as nothing more than a rogue practitioner, someone who, noticing his own high level of cultivation, sought to latch onto someone stronger—a common occurrence among solitary cultivators.
Sadly, as members of a prominent sect, they were not like those solitary cultivators who huddled together for warmth. They had even less interest in indulging Xiaoming's childish fantasies.
"Elder, this young man possesses formidable strength, capable of defeating enemies beyond his level. He took down four Qi Controlling bandits..."
The village chief was cut off mid-sentence by a sycophantic cultivator standing behind the youth.
"Old man, defeating foes beyond our level is routine for us. Our Senior Brother Meng has even slain a First Spark cultivator."
The smug cultivator was shamelessly ingratiating himself with the young man, earning nods of agreement from two attractive female cultivators.
"What's a bandit worth, anyway? They're nothing but uncultured brutes practicing body transformation."
"Exactly. They kill a few rogue cultivators and suddenly they're strutting around. They should really take a good hard look at themselves."
The two female disciples sneered, their faces twisted with scorn as they regarded Xiaoming as if he were mere refuse.
The obsequious cultivator chimed in with agreement, while a frail-looking cultivator in the corner remained silent.
Xiaoming, the target of their derision, kept his cool, but Wu Ziming, seated on the donkey cart, was struggling to contain himself.
As Ziming appeared increasingly agitated, Xiaoming massaged the back of his neck, producing a grating metallic sound. "It seems I've been underestimated."
Just as Wen Ke was about to retort, his vision went dark, and he collapsed to the ground.
When his sight returned, he was shocked to find that the diminutive man had seized him by the neck and pinned him down.
The speed of the maneuver had been so swift that not only Wen Ke, but also the other cultivators were left in a state of bewilderment, unable to perceive the rapidity of Xiaoming's Qi Cultivation.
Wen Ke, instinctively resisting, found himself with a short blade glowing green pressed against his neck. The piercing pain from the blade's edge kept him from making any sudden moves.
The two women were quick to respond, drawing their swords and aiming them at Xiaoming. "Release Senior Brother Wen Ke immediately, or you'll make an enemy of the entire Waning Crescent in the Wilderness."
The standoff created a tense atmosphere that startled the nearby villagers, who no longer dared to linger. Within seconds, the bridge was deserted, leaving only Xiaoming and the five cultivators in a face-off.
The village chief had attempted to intervene but was quickly escorted away by several strong men. Ziming tried to step forward but was pulled into a nearby house by Tu the butcher and Xiaolan.
With the crowd dispersed, Xiaoming flashed a grin. "Ladies, I'm not one for confrontation, and I certainly don't appreciate being intimidated."
The taller female cultivator snorted in response to Xiaoming's apparent submission. "Then release him quickly, or you'll regret it."
"Yes! Free Senior Brother Wen Ke now, or you'll meet a graveless end!"
Their commanding tone only amused Xiaoming, who realized they hadn't grasped the gravity of their predicament. "Let's be clear, your Senior Brother's life is in my grasp. If you act rashly, should I strangle him or stab him?"
As he tightened his grip, Xiaoming ominously lifted the blade a fraction higher, causing Wen Ke to freeze in fear of further neck contact.
The female cultivators glared with fiery eyes, their teeth gritted as if they wished to devour the diminutive figure before them, while their grim-faced accomplice kept a menacing watch over Xiaoming.
Unfazed by their impotent rage, Xiaoming's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "All jokes aside, this hardly seems like Waning Crescent territory. Have you come to Dragonslayer Keep to declare war?"
Their cover blown, the cultivators' expressions darkened even more. They had intended to use their status to coerce Xiaoming into releasing their comrade, but the tables had unexpectedly turned on them.
They were essentially shooting themselves in the foot. With this thought in mind, the henchman monk's murderous intent grew, eager to silence Xiaoming for good.
Unperturbed by the hostile stares, Xiaoming spoke with unabashed confidence. "If word of this gets out, how would your sect handle it? Would they protect you, or demand your lives as penance?"
The sound of Xiaoming's brazen laughter caused the two female cultivators and their lackey companion to grip their swords so tightly their hands shook.
Xiaoming, undeterred by the crowd's restraint, continued to taunt them. "Such intense murderous vibes—I'm shaking in my boots! Come on then, let's make it a fair exchange."
The scholarly cultivator, attempting to calm the three who were nearly consumed by rage, approached with a smile. "Young Hero, we have no quarrel, do we?"
"None at all. I'm just naturally curious. We're more than a thousand miles from the border of the two continents. Don't tell me you've come all this way just to play the heroes."
Rising to his feet, Xiaoming planted his boot firmly on Du Ke's chest, while the blade of his dagger lengthened, pressing against the other's eye socket. "And another thing—don't bother with any futile ideas. To me, a cultivator who can wield qi is no different from a chicken. If I can easily overpower this fool, I can certainly take you all down."
With a lift of his gaze, Xiaoming's aura of menace radiated outward, intimidating the four onlookers as he sent Du Ke tumbling into the river with a swift kick.
Casting a dismissive look at the three defiant cultivators, Xiaoming flashed a chilling grin, revealing his pearly whites. "Of course, you're welcome to give it a shot."
