Chapter Thirty: The Ruthless Marauder Gang

Yin Chaozong let out a cold laugh, spun around abruptly, and let Lin Feng’s fists land squarely on his body without budging an inch. Then, with a swift motion, he seized Lin Feng’s hands, his cold laughter echoing.

“With that measly bit of strength, you’re not even enough to scratch an itch, boy. Let me show you my true form.” Yin Chaozong flung Lin Feng aside and slowly undid his black robe.

“You... are you man or ghost?” Staring at the old man’s withered, half-demonic torso, Lin Feng’s tongue grew numb. From the neck down, the old demon’s chest, abdomen, and arms had lost all human hue, resembling a corpse desiccated and dusted with gold powder, every bone protruding sharply, skin stretched taut.

Yin Chaozong chuckled. “Ignorant child. This is the supreme Golden Body that this Celestial Master is refining. Only one more medicinal catalyst remains before it is complete. Once I achieve the Golden Vein Body and master the Devouring Yin Corpse Technique, heh, then I shall be invincible!”

Shock and fury warred within Lin Feng. The old demon’s body was perhaps truly as formidable as he claimed. His own full-powered strike just now had failed to harm Yin Chaozong in the slightest—an attack with the force of a thousand pounds. This old monster was terrifying.

As Lin Feng stood in helpless confusion, Yin Chaozong’s face suddenly darkened, listening intently.

Outside, chaos reigned: firelight flickered, voices clamored, something had happened. With a wave of his hand, Yin Chaozong swept the items from the table into his sleeve, wrapped his robes tightly, and growled, “Let’s go! We’ll see what’s happening. And remember: don’t try anything clever. Otherwise, not a single soul in this village will survive!”

The old and the young, each harboring their own thoughts, pushed open the door to leave, only to run into Wang Hu’s wife hurrying over. She met them face to face and whispered urgently, “Sir, don’t go out! The Sand Treasure Mountain bandits are here again!”

“Bandits? Ha! All the more reason for me to see if it’s those pursuing us.” Yin Chaozong was restless, convinced someone was stalking him. This latest flight for his life had made him jumpy and suspicious. He decided to see for himself.

Unable to dissuade them, the village woman gave up and hurried back, bolting the courtyard door and waiting in fear. Mountain bandits stole money, food, and women—if they broke into the village, she might well be taken.

“Boy, don’t go causing trouble out there. If I’m in a good mood, I might spare your life. Otherwise, you’ll obediently become my iron corpse.”

Yin Chaozong had seen the boy’s extraordinary talent and, despite himself, felt a reluctant appreciation for such a rare gem—though he might not have realized it.

Lin Feng snorted and turned away.

The two crept along a village path toward the firelight. Soon, they saw a crowd of villagers wielding crude weapons and torches, forming ranks, faces pale as they stared at the dark, silent mountain road.

Clip-clop! The heavy sound of hooves shattered the night’s calm. In the distance, a line of fire snaked swiftly toward them.

“They’re coming! Ready yourselves!” The one giving orders was Wang Hu, iron fork in hand, his expression grim. What he couldn’t see were the bandits approaching on horseback—each armed with an iron-backed bow.

Two hundred paces, one hundred, fifty! As the villagers braced for yet another desperate fight, a hail of arrows darkened the sky, felling a dozen men in an instant.

“They have bows! Run! Back to the village!” someone shouted. But the villagers’ speed was no match for mounted riders. In moments, the hundred-strong defense force was surrounded, dozens of arrows aimed mercilessly at them.

Hidden behind a pile of firewood, Lin Feng grew anxious. The villagers were doomed. “I’m going to help them,” he whispered.

“Come back! Don’t play the hero!” Yin Chaozong scoffed. “With your feeble skills, you’ll be riddled with arrows before you get close.”

“Hmph! Still better than standing by while others die! If you’re so powerful, why don’t you help?” Lin Feng glared at him, indignant.

Yin Chaozong sneered, “Why should their lives matter to me? By your logic, every master in the world ought to be a knight-errant. I’ve roamed the land for centuries—scenes like this are common. And besides, I’m of the demonic path, hardly one to meddle.”

“You encountered them—you’re obliged to help. If you turn away, how are you any different from these bandits? They welcomed you into the village, yet you’d let them die. If you won’t go, I will!” Lin Feng’s face blazed as he prepared to charge out.

“Go ahead! If you die, it’ll save me the trouble and spare me from more killing,” Yin Chaozong snorted.

“Who’s there? Come out!” As the two argued, the bandit chief shouted and fired an arrow, which whistled past their hiding place.

“Oh? He’s got some spirit.” Yin Chaozong, unwilling to waste effort on these mundane folk, simply stayed hidden.

“It’s me!” Lin Feng stepped out from behind the firewood, standing tall.

“You little brat, courting death!” One of the bandits raised his arm, and a flash of steel spun through the darkness, aimed at Lin Feng’s slender neck. The bandits grinned savagely, waiting for that spectacular moment when a head would fly and blood would spurt.

Suddenly, their smiles froze. The youth struck out with a fist, knocking the spinning blade away!

“A cultivator! He’s a cultivator—kill him, quickly!” the chief shrieked.

A volley of arrows rained down. Lin Feng, still only at the early stage of Qi Refining, was far tougher than most, but under such a barrage, he was bound to be wounded. Several arrows pierced his skin and lodged in his flesh.

“Haha! Brothers, kill him!” At the chief’s command, most of the bandits charged at Lin Feng, blades flashing.

Unarmed, Lin Feng yanked out an arrow, flashed forward, and plunged it through a bandit’s left eye, out through the back of his skull. He moved like lightning—next, smashing another’s skull with a punch, then seizing a saber and beheading another in a single motion.

“Kill him! Kill him!” the chief roared in terror, but dared not lead from the front.

Suddenly, another arrow burst from a bandit’s back, killing him. “Everyone, attack!” “Kill!” The villagers, red-eyed, charged with suicidal fury.

The bandits, unnerved, quickly lost their advantage. Now, outnumbered and attacked from both sides, their greatest terror was the youth who killed like a god of war.

With a thud, Lin Feng kicked a bandit in the temple, killing him instantly. He spun and punched another in the chest—a sickening crack, and the man collapsed on his horse, eyes wide.

Against these bandits, a thousand pounds of force meant instant death—every strike hit a vital spot, throat, head, or heart.

The villagers, too, fought with a desperation born of despair. Though many fell, their wild courage made the bandits’ blood run cold.

“Retreat! Quickly!” Realizing all was lost, the chief shouted and fled into the darkness.

“Where do you think you’re going!” Lin Feng leapt forward, stepping on the heads of fleeing bandits—each step crushed a skull like a watermelon. In a flash, he struck the chief’s back with a palm, sending a surge of energy through his body. The villain flew several yards, crashed to the ground, twitched, and moved no more.

“The chief is dead! Run!” The survivors scattered in panic.

The Sand Treasure Mountain bandits suffered more than half casualties in a single night, their chief dead, their threat broken.

Lin Feng, meanwhile, was secretly overjoyed. With that final strike, his spiritual energy had surged, breaking through the bottleneck to the middle stage of Qi Refining!

“My young friend, thank you for your righteous help.” Wang Hu, covered in blood, approached and clasped his hands in gratitude, about to kneel.

“No, no, please get up, elder brother!” Lin Feng hurriedly helped him up, embarrassed.

“Ahem, since my grandson helped you through this crisis, shouldn’t you treat us with fine wine and good food?” Yin Chaozong emerged from behind the haystack, speaking in grave tones.

Lin Feng shot him a glare, searching for wound ointment, only to realize his pack was still at their lodging, with only a few valuables left on his person.

“Of course! Of course! So it’s you, sir—please, come into the village.” Recognizing the pair, Wang Hu welcomed them warmly.

As dawn broke, the villagers of Great King Village breathed a long sigh of relief. Though many had died or been wounded, the bandits had paid dearly and their chief was dead. For now, at least, the village would know peace.

...

At the village chief’s house in Great King Village, several elders respectfully attended the old demon, sharing wine and discussing the scourge of the bandits. At another table, Wang Hu and others crowded around Lin Feng, peppering him with questions, full of envy for his abilities.

“My young friend, I heard the bandits call you a cultivator. Are you perhaps a disciple of those immortals from Mount Qi Yun?” Wang Hu downed a bowl of strong wine and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Haha, Brother Wang Hu, there’s a world of difference between a cultivator and an immortal. Even my old, half-dead grandfather can’t be called an immortal.” Lin Feng deliberately raised his voice so Yin Chaozong would hear.

“Eh, is the old gentleman even stronger than you?” Another burly villager, a chicken leg in hand, looked astonished.

Seeing everyone’s curiosity, Lin Feng shifted his posture and replied unhurriedly, “Of course! He can travel ten thousand miles a day, killing as easily as crushing ants. He’s far stronger than me.”

“Boy! Don’t get clever. Believe me, I could turn this whole village into corpses!” The old man’s cold, pitiless voice echoed in Lin Feng’s mind, making him go pale.

Wang Hu noticed his change and quickly asked, “What’s wrong, young friend?”

“It’s nothing, nothing.” Lin Feng forced a smile.

“Come, let’s drink! Today, we repelled the Sand Treasure Mountain bandits thanks to these honored guests. From now on, we’ll have some peace in Great King Village!” Everyone raised their cups and celebrated, their spirits high.

Lin Feng kept an ear on the elders’ conversation, watching the old demon’s face, worried that he might lose his temper and slaughter them all.

People of the demonic path could not be judged by ordinary logic. The Unfettered Demon Lord was like this, and so was the Soul-Stealing Celestial Master.

“Sir, without your help, our entire Great King Village—over a thousand souls—would have been wiped out.” The village chief, a long-bearded elder in a blue robe leaning on a dragon-headed cane, looked more like an immortal than the old demon himself.

Yin Chaozong sipped his wine, surprised. “Since you knew the bandits were coming, why didn’t you seek help? This area belongs to the Great Qian Kingdom. The authorities collect your silver; they should protect you.”

“Alas, sir, you don’t know. Though Chen Prefecture belongs to the Great Qian Kingdom, it lies in remote mountains. Bandits and thieves run rampant; even the authorities can’t control them. Just days ago, the Sand Treasure Mountain bandits demanded five hundred loads of grain and three hundred head of livestock to get through the winter. They’re driving us to ruin! Before, they only asked for a hundred. We had no choice but to fight back!” The chief, still seething, shook with anger.

The old demon nodded repeatedly. These bandits had pushed the villagers too far. Killing the chicken for its eggs, they’d doomed themselves—deserved to die.

“Village chief! Village chief! The bandits are back! We can’t hold Great King Village!” A terrified villager burst in, trembling so badly his lips quivered.

“Shut up, Wang Jin!” The chief fumed. “The bandits just fled—how could they be back? The sentries must be mistaken.”

Wang Hu’s face changed. He pressed his ear to the ground, then blanched. “Chief, it’s true—a large force is approaching fast.”

“What! Quickly—sound the alarm! Gather everyone!” The chief snapped to attention and barked orders.

Lin Feng shot to his feet. “Brother Wang Hu, do you have a heavy spear? Give it to me—I’ll help defend the village!”

“Yes! I remember—there’s a giant spear in the training yard no one can wield. Perfect for you!” Wang Hu dragged Lin Feng away, leaving only Yin Chaozong at the table.

“Hmph, a rabble. I could wipe them out with a wave of my hand—what’s all the fuss...” The old demon, feeling unappreciated, grew sullen. Suddenly, he sensed something and cast a wary glance into the distant sky.