Chapter 280: Anger

The tall evil cultivator was startled upon hearing these words and shook his head. He wouldn't dare to touch the bad luck of the Fourth Boss.

"Then this fatty is dead, so be it," he said. Afterwards, he asked again, "Should we feed it directly? That would save some trouble."

"If this demonic beast wanted to eat people, it would have eaten long ago. Why would it wait for us to feed it? It's very picky, it doesn't eat human flesh."

"That's strange," the tall evil cultivator said, somewhat surprised.

"Isn't it?"

The two evil cultivators threw the fatty's corpse out and began cleaning the bloodstains in the room. Soon, they discovered that the array binding the demonic chain seemed to have dimmed considerably. The tall evil cultivator frowned and said, "Is this array broken? Or did someone tamper with it?"

The ink painting on the beam listened, slightly startled, wondering whether to also scheme to kill these two evil cultivators. He had tampered with many arrays in Heishan Zhaibao. Generally, array masters, unless an array fails, won't specifically check it. After all, there are so many arrays in Heishan Zhaibao, big and small; he couldn't possibly check them all.

But if these two evil cultivators discovered that the array had been tampered with, they would report it to the Third Boss. If the evil cultivators investigated carefully, they would discover traces of the ink painting's array-undoing. Even if they couldn't see the ink painting, they would strengthen their guard. It would then be less convenient for the ink painting to gather information.

The ink painting then weighed the strength of the two evil cultivators in his heart, seeing if he could resolve them here. He alone was not enough; there was also this big tiger. If he and the big tiger cooperated and struck secretly, killing one first and then dealing with the other together, he estimated they could resolve it.

The short evil cultivator also stepped forward to look at the array and asked, "You understand arrays?"

"Don't understand," the tall evil cultivator shook his head.

"Then what are you talking about? Pretending to understand a lot?"

"But this array is indeed a bit different?"

"How can it be different?" the short evil cultivator said. "It's just an array. To me, they all look the same."

"How can this be the same?" the tall evil cultivator still insisted.

The short evil cultivator cursed softly, "Use that stupid brain of yours to think. If this array really had a problem, would this tiger demon honestly lie there?"

The tall evil cultivator was stunned for a moment, and then actually nodded, "That makes sense." He looked at the tiger demon. The tiger demon was just drooping its head, lying there honestly, looking listless. The tall evil cultivator couldn't help but say, "This demonic beast isn't quite honest, is it? Why did it suddenly bite that fatty to death?"

"It's probably because that fatty did something that provoked this demonic beast. That's why he lost his life. Such things happen often. Newcomers don't know how high the sky is..."

The tall evil cultivator nodded. After that, the two people stopped chatting and focused on wiping the bloodstains on the ground. The ink painting saw that they were no longer preoccupied with the array matter and also felt relieved. It was good that these two evil cultivators were "array blinds," completely ignorant about arrays. Otherwise, he would have had to expend more effort.

The ink painting looked at the big tiger again, thinking to himself, "You'll have to figure things out yourself. I can only help you this much. Whether you can escape alive depends on you." That tiger demon drooped its head and gently let out a "hum" sound, as if it had truly heard the ink painting's inner thoughts. The ink painting shook its head; this big tiger was really excessively clever.

Another day passed, and almost everything that needed to be done was done. The ink painting then considered whether or not to go back. The fat cultivator had been schemed to death, Kong Sheng's jade pendant was obtained, the map of Heishan Zhaibao was almost drawn, and some intelligence that could be gathered had been gathered by the ink painting. As for more confidential intelligence, the evil cultivators in the front stronghold might not know, and the ink painting didn't dare to go to the back stronghold either. It was almost time to stop.

But before going back, there was one thing the ink painting was quite troubled about. That was the white-faced man's fireball technique secret manual. He had been staring at the white-faced man for several days, wanting to steal his secret manual, copy a copy for himself, and then return it without anyone knowing. But he had been staring for several days without a single opportunity. The white-faced man always carried his storage bag on his body and treated the fireball technique's secret manual as a treasure. Also, that Kong Sheng, killing him was easy, but it was difficult to leave no trace. The ink painting sighed. It seemed that he would have to find a way later.

In the evening, Scarface and the white-faced man were still on night duty, roasting fire around a bonfire, eating tough meat, and drinking unpleasant wine. The ink painting was still hiding nearby, listening. He planned to go home tomorrow, so he would listen to the wall again tonight to see if he could hear any new information. Scarface and the white-faced man chatted while drinking. It was either complaints, vulgar language, or some meaningless nonsense. There was no new intelligence. The ink painting was a bit tired. Just as he was considering whether or not to leave tonight, he heard Scarface and the two men chatting about practicing evil cultivation.

The white-faced man sighed first, "My 'spirit slave' died. That's really unlucky. I have to raise a new one again."

Scarface sneered, "Did you suck too hard?"

"Even if it's hard, can it be as hard as yours?" The white-faced man was displeased. "What state has your 'furnace cauldron' been plucked into?"

"No matter what, it's not dead, is it?"

"Better dead than alive. It's not as good as being dead."

"What, you feel sorry?" Scarface looked at him with a half-smile.

The white-faced man said, "I'm not like you. I don't know how to cherish fragrance and jade. If I learned plucking and supplementing, I would definitely dote on her properly..."

Scarface laughed coldly, "Pretending what your mom."

The white-faced man didn't mind, with a lewd smile on his face. After a moment, he suddenly said strangely: "This woman has a Dao companion, right? Can she actually willingly let you pluck and supplement?"

Scarface laughed, "I used her husband to threaten her. If she didn't comply, I would make her husband suffer a terrible death."

"For her husband, she reluctantly complied, letting me do as I pleased. Each time after the deed, she would bitterly beg me not to torment her husband."

The white-faced man also laughed, "You are truly a beast."

Scarface's gaze was greedy, and he smiled ferociously. The white-faced man took a mouthful of wine, then suddenly let out a surprised "eh" sound and said: "That's not right. This woman's husband, wasn't he chopped to death by your knife early on?"

Scarface laughed wantonly, "Exactly so, right?"

"Truly damn yours..."

The ink painting's expression gradually turned cold. He couldn't listen to the rest of the words. The ink painting got up and left, walking along the dark road to a corner of Heishan Zhaibao. In the corner were some simple houses where some innocent cultivators were imprisoned. There were not many female cultivators still alive in Heishan Zhaibao. The ink painting searched a few rooms and then found the woman Scarface had mentioned. That woman was locked separately in a room. The furnishings inside the room were simple. There was some simple food. The woman had no chains on her body and was not restricted in her freedom, but she could not leave the room.

The night was pitch black, and the cold moonlight shone into the room from the window. The woman was numbly lying on the bed, her hair messy, her clothes tattered, and her body full of bruises, looking weak and miserable. She did not cry; it seemed her tears had already dried up. Suddenly, she slowly crawled up, took out the wooden hairpin from the head of the bed, and pointed it towards her own heart. But then she thought of something, her hands trembled, and she hesitated, not stabbing. After a moment, she seemed resigned, and lay down numbly again. Only her hand tightly grasped a sachet, holding it until her knuckles were white. The sachet was embroidered with a pair of exquisite mandarin ducks.

The ink painting remembered his mother telling him that this was a token of affection between Dao companions. She must be worrying about her husband's safety. Even suffering torment and losing her dignity, she was still persevering to live. But her husband was already dead, and her following days would only be endless torment and pain. Her persistence was only the persistence to endure torment.

The ink painting wanted to save her, but fundamentally, he couldn't save her. His cultivation was not enough, his spells were not strong. Although he could hide and trap enemies, he was not good at killing. By the time he went out to call for help, too much time would have passed. This woman couldn't last until then.

The ink painting's mood was somewhat depressed. He sighed and softly opened his mouth: "Your husband is already dead."

Upon hearing this, the woman was stunned and said, "Really?" Her voice was hoarse, but not surprised. Husband and wife were one heart, perhaps she already had a premonition, but she was unwilling to admit it in her heart, still seeking a trace of hope.

"Scarface said it himself."

"Is that so..." The woman's tears, which had already dried, welled up again. "Already... dead, ah."

The room was silent. The woman's crying was without a sound.

"Thank you." The woman slowly said. He didn't know who was speaking, but the voice sounded gentle, perhaps a child. How could a child appear in this place? This dirty and terrible place. Perhaps it was a child under the immortal's seat, unable to bear seeing me suffer, so they only told me the truth. Does this world really have immortals? If this world really has immortals, I don't ask you to save me from misery, I only ask you to let those who deserve to die sink into hell.

The woman silently made a wish, then with her left hand grasping the sachet and her right hand holding the wooden hairpin, she fiercely stabbed it into her own heart meridian. Blood dyed her clothes red, like poppies in the night. The woman, with a serene and relieved expression, slowly closed her eyes. "Husband, this life is too bitter. If there is a next life, let's be Dao companions again," she murmured in her heart before closing her eyes.

The ink painting watched silently, his small face sad, and immediately filled with boundless anger. In this world, those who deserved to die were still alive, while those who should have lived well died miserably. The moonlight was cold, and the ink painting's gaze, standing in the night, was even colder. He decided that before going back, he would kill that Scarface first!

Thank you for the reward from "Flying Up One Sword."

Additionally, a few things about the plot: This book leans towards traditional immortal heroes. In terms of plot, there will be both "immortal" and "hero." It will not always be a cowardly cultivation plot. Also, Heishan Zhaibao, although dangerous, the ink painting is not considered "weak." His attacks are a bit weak, but his functionality is full. His hiding, control, and body movement are all at the ceiling of the Qi Refining stage. So, it's actually not as dangerous as it looks. The last point is that this is not a routine story. The plot is actually connected from front to back. Some things, when written halfway, some people start to complain, which is actually unnecessary. There will be three updates today, but I will send them out early. I went up a recommendation before, and subscriptions increased quite a bit, thank you everyone. Finally, I wish everyone health and happiness.