Chapter Forty-Two: The Slaughtered Town

The three figures traveling within the escaping light were all cultivators at or above the early Foundation Establishment stage. Though they were in a hurry, if they did not wish to be seen by mortals, none in the caravan would be any the wiser.

“Damn it, that fiend has slaughtered yet another small town. If we don’t eliminate him soon, once his demonic artifact is fully forged, he’ll become even more difficult to deal with...”

As the trio flew over the caravan, the middle-aged man with a scholarly air intended to cast a casual glance downward. However, the words of the female cultivator beside him robbed him of any interest.

“Junior Sister Han is right. That demonic cultivator surnamed Duan was only at mid-Foundation Establishment before—together, the three of us could have easily subdued him. But if his Banner of a Thousand Souls reaches completion, the situation may well be reversed.”

As soon as the palace-garbed woman finished speaking, the eldest among them, an old man in Daoist robes, immediately took up the thread. As they spoke, their figures streaked away at incredible speed, vanishing into the distance.

Though he hadn’t overheard their sound-transmitted conversation, Xiao Wenzi dared not leave the wagon lightly given the uncertain situation.

Unaware that high-level cultivators had just passed overhead, the caravan continued on its way. Yet as they approached the town ahead, they too sensed something amiss.

Qingliu Town, nestled beside a river and graced with pleasant surroundings, was not a large city of ten thousand souls, but it was always bustling with noise and activity. Today, however, an unsettling silence pervaded the air.

“Dead... so many dead...”

“What in the world happened? How did they all die?”

Standing on the flagstone road at the town’s entrance, every member of the caravan was stunned by the sight before them. They murmured as if in a dream, bodies trembling uncontrollably.

Ahead lay dozens of corpses—some decapitated, others with their hearts pierced or limbs strewn about—lying in pools of blood, and this was only at the gate. Looking further, the town’s streets were littered with bodies of men, women, and children alike, the stench of blood so thick it made one retch.

“This is ruthless... Who could have done this? These were all ordinary civilians. Even the most vicious bandits wouldn’t have slaughtered everyone... Wait, these wounds are deep but the cuts are smooth—no mundane blade could have done this. Could it be the work of some cultivator practicing evil arts?”

Xiao Wenzi also took in the carnage, unease churning within him. Still, compared to the mortal martial artists in the caravan, he managed to remain relatively composed.

With his demon sense, he could better examine the wounds, and soon deduced the likely answer.

“Enough—no good can come from lingering in such a place. Move the corpses out of the way and let’s be on our way.”

At least, braving the elements for years as traders, the caravan’s manager recovered quickly from his fright and gave decisive orders.

“Yes, sir.”

There were too many bodies to consider burial even if they wished; their only recourse was to report the matter to the authorities upon reaching the county seat.

No one objected to the manager’s decision. Several sturdy men answered in the affirmative, stepped forward to clear the corpses blocking the path, while the rest hurried the animals along.

Thus, the group moved through the town in terror, making their way to the far side.

Having used a forbidden escape technique to evade his pursuers, the evil cultivator surnamed Duan dared not linger after slaughtering the town and harvesting souls.

Thus, though the caravan’s wagons and horses passed through the devastated Qingliu Town, they encountered no further danger.

The blood of mortals loses its value to the exchange system after a certain time, so Xiao Wenzi had no intention of leaving the caravan to exploit the situation. Moreover, the blood of such wrongfully slain victims was inauspicious, inviting karmic retribution; even if he could consume it, he would feel uneasy.

At length, the caravan left behind the corpse-strewn Qingliu Town and continued on toward the Misty Marshes.

Of course, the caravan’s true destination was only a county town a hundred miles away; if Xiao Wenzi wished to reach the Misty Marshes, he would have to find another ride.

That the evil cultivator surnamed Duan, a Foundation Establishment stage renegade, had managed to escape three peers spoke to his cunning—he would never flee in a straight line.

As such, the caravan encountered no more massacred villages along the way and safely arrived at Qingyuan City after several hours.

Qingyuan City was much like He County, a typical county seat. Once inside, the caravan master sent men to report the massacre to the authorities and began unloading goods.

Xiao Wenzi had already slipped away quietly.

His only goal was to reach the Misty Marshes, where low-level cultivators might be found. The massacres, or whether the county magistrate would send men to investigate, were none of his concern.

He planned simply: find a quiet place to rest for the night and continue seeking a ride in the morning.

After all, since breaking through to the late third tier, he could now sustain himself on spiritual energy alone, no longer needing to consume juice or berries to stave off hunger.

Yet, due to the ferocity of Duan’s rampage, the carnage was not limited to Qingliu Town. In a short time, rumors spread like a plague; by the next day, not a single wagon left the city, the people cowering inside for safety.

Thus, after waiting until mid-morning with no luck, Xiao Wenzi was forced to take wing and fly out of Qingyuan City alone.

“Hmm? Snow is falling already? Could winter truly come so early in this world?”

Qingyuan City was less than five hundred li from the Misty Marshes. Xiao Wenzi had thought that, even without a ride, he could simply fly the distance.

Yet on the fourth day after leaving the city, snowflakes suddenly began to drift down over the silent wilds. The already weak sun vanished behind thick clouds, plunging the world into gloom.

A bitter wind struck, making Xiao Wenzi shiver uncontrollably. He hastily circulated his demon essence to drive away the chill, unease creeping into his heart.

It seemed that mosquitoes were ill-suited for winter. With the first snowfall, he already found it hard to endure; if the weather grew any colder, his demon power would quickly be depleted.

Fortunately, he still had three or four thousand ordinary system credits to exchange for demon elixir to replenish his power—otherwise, he would have sought a warm cave for hibernation at once.

After all, if not for the need to travel, simply cultivating in place would suffice to sustain him; come spring, it would not be too late to seek out minor cultivators.

“Wait—something’s wrong. This can’t be a natural phenomenon...could it be?”

Seeing the snow, Xiao Wenzi had assumed winter was upon him. Yet he soon realized something strange.

The snowfall’s range was odd—snowflakes drifted thickly ahead, but for dozens of meters behind him, not a single flake fell.

Moreover, he was heading for the southeastern part of Tiannan Prefecture, which should be warmer than the northwest. Even if it snowed, it ought to begin in the north.