The Black Wind Totem Spirit Vein

Zhao Qianjue wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, chuckled twice, and leaned close to Chen Fan, lowering his voice.

"Brother Chen, if you're really itching to get your hands dirty, you don't have to stay cooped up in Xuanming City. The old city lord is watching over things here, so everyone has to save face. But once you leave the city and travel eight hundred miles southeast, that area is unmanaged."

Chen Fan glanced at him sideways. "What do you mean?"

"At the border between Profound Nether Main City and the neighboring Red Rock Main City, a Black Wind Totem Spirit Vein runs across the area. The two giant cities are locked in a fierce struggle there for over a hundred years." Zhao Qianjue gestured mysteriously. "The Black Fiend Gate previously occupied the most fertile Black Fiend Wind-Eye Mine, producing at least tens of thousands of catties of Totem Black Marrow every month."

Chen Fan paused, raising an eyebrow. "And now?"

"The news of Ancestor Wusha's death and dissipation has already spread far and wide."

Zhao Qianjue sighed.

"The Iron Armor Sect of Red Rock Main City is no pushover. They cultivate the Hundredfold Refined Metal-and-Stone Path, and they desperately need to Bone Refinement War Puppets with Totem Black Marrow. Once the Black Fiend Gate falls, those guards left in the mine will probably be stripped naked."

Chen Fan stroked his chin and chuckled.

"Such a good thing?"

Zhao Qianjue's lips twitched, thinking to himself that only this little rascal would consider having his territory taken away a good thing.

"Alright, Brother Zhao, I've got this message."

Chen Fan patted Zhao Qianjue's arm armor, his movements as practiced as a seasoned pimp who had been navigating the streets for decades.

"I won't drink the wine; my mother is waiting for me to bring back meat to cook. I'll treat you to black marrow wine another day after I've taken back the mine."

With that, Chen Fan stomped his foot, transforming into a streak of dark black Stream of Light intertwined with crimson, tearing through the sky and hurtling straight toward the Southern Great Wilderness.

Zhao Qianjue stood there, watching the Escape Light, and only after a long while did he wipe his face.

"Those idiots in Red Rock Main City, good luck to them..."

Half an hour later, at the Blackstone Mountains.

The once desolate and lifeless mountain stronghold has now undergone a dramatic transformation. The Black Fiend Gate's Xuan Tie Pavilion has been moved here in large numbers and stands halfway up the mountain. People from the Fire Crow Tribe come and go, carrying rice, grain, and armor, and each of them has a long-lost rosy glow on their face.

Stream of Light fell, Chen Fan's figure was revealed.

"The leader is back!"

"The Holy Son has returned to the mountain!"

Someone shouted, and the entire mountain village erupted in cheers.

Chen Fan, who had just made even Eighth-Order giants tremble and retreat in the main hall of the city, now completely concealed his fierce aura. He casually took off his outer robe and threw it to Wang Dafu, who was coming to greet him, and strode towards a stone house in Zhongzhuang.

"Mother, I'm back."

The curtain of the stone house was lifted, and a middle-aged woman with a rough face but gentle eyes walked out quickly. She looked Chen Fan up and down three times to make sure that even his skin wasn't scratched, and then she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hungry? There's some venison stewing in the pot, it's very tender."

The woman patted the dust off his shoulder, her eyes filled with heartache.

"You're always running around, you're only ten years old, you haven't even grown all that tall yet, what are you showing off for?"

"Being able to fight at Eighth-Order ten years old is nothing to be ashamed of."

Chen Fan grinned, casually pulled out two Snow Soul Pills he had taken from the Master of the Myriad Sword Pavilion from his pocket, and stuffed them into the woman's hand.

"This stuff is sweet; you can chew it like candy, and it's good for your lungs."

Wang Dafu, who had rushed over with the account books in hand, couldn't help but twitch at the sight.

That's the Myriad Sword Pavilion's prized elixir, one of which can be exchanged for three thousand antlered deer. Are you just going to chew it like candy?

"Dafu, get over here." Chen Fan mumbled through a meat pie.

Wang Dafu, his round body sprang forward, his face beaming. "Chief, as you ordered, the Black Fiend Gate Sect's entire legacy has been revealed. One Middle-Grade Spirit Vein, six Low-Grade Ore Vein, three shops in the main city's market, and the seven thousand High-Grade Spirit Stones and twenty thousand sets of Mystic Armor from the Treasure Pavilion —it's all here!"

Chen Fan took the ledger, didn't even flip through it, and threw it back.

"Distribute the Mystic Armor to the teams, one set for each person. Take out half of the spirit stones and distribute them according to the number of people. The families of the fallen brothers will receive three portions, and the wounded will receive two portions. The remaining spirit herbs and spirit meat will be boiled into a large pot of medicinal cuisine for the children in the village to temper their bodies."

Wang Dafu was stunned.

"Chief, it's all been distributed? Then what about your cultivation resources...?"

"Stop talking nonsense, do you think I need these little pebbles?"

Chen Fan glanced at him, his eyes mischievous yet carrying an undeniable weight.

"Only when the tribe is strong can the Fire Crow Tribe truly establish itself. Do as I say. If I find out you dare to embezzle even a single spirit stone, I'll hang you on the back mountain to feed the eagles."

Wang Dafu's fat body trembled, and he hurriedly knelt down and kowtowed. "I wouldn't dare! I'll do it right away!"

That night, bonfires lit up the entire Blackstone Mountain.

The broth in the large pot bubbled and simmered, releasing a rich aroma of herbs, while the strong scent of coarse ale permeated the night sky.

Chen Fan, holding a ceramic bowl, sat among the old soldiers with broken legs at the bottom of the group, listening to them boast about their past hunting of ferocious beasts on the edge of the Great Wilderness. He would occasionally burst into laughter, and with a flick of his wrist, a stream of pure life energy quietly flowed into the old soldiers' damaged meridians, gently nourishing their long-standing ailments.

That night, the Fire Crow Tribe's cohesion soared to an unprecedented level.

However, at the break of dawn, this tranquility was shattered by a piercing scream.

"Chief! Help, Chief!"

A blood-soaked figure staggered and collapsed in front of the village gate, his skin torn and bleeding, with many wounds so deep that bone was visible. It was the squad leader who had been sent to take over the mine at the Black Wind Spirit Vein.

Chen Fan instantly appeared in front of the village gate, reached out and supported the soldier, his palm emitting gray light that stopped the gushing blood.

"What's going on?" Chen Fan's voice calmed down, but the temperature of the surrounding air suddenly dropped.

"Red Rock Main City... Iron Armor Sect!" The warrior coughed up a mouthful of black blood mixed with fragments of internal organs, crying out in grief and indignation, "They charged into the mine in ten-zhang-tall Dark Iron War Puppets, killing everyone they saw! The five hundred Mine Slaves left behind by the Black Fiend Gate were all trampled to death by them, and the Fire Crow Battle Banner planted in the mine... was chopped into shreds and used to wipe the War Puppets ' butts!"

The tribesmen who had gathered around immediately became furious, their roars echoing through the valley.

Chen Fan slowly withdrew his hand and smoothed the broken ribs on the soldier's chest.

He stood up, patted the dew off his robes, and turned to look at the pale, fish-belly-like dawn on the horizon.

A cold and unruly smile slowly spread across his lips.

"Use my flag to wipe your ass?"

Chen Fan smiled and drew the dusty, broken Broken Saber from his waist.

"These days, there are too few sensible people, and too many people who want to die... Why are there so many?"

Eight hundred miles away, the Black Wind Mountains.

The black gale, like a sharp blade, howled and whistled through the canyon, crashing against the hard rock walls and emitting a mournful wail.

Below, in the vast mining basin, dozens of giant War Puppets, each over ten feet tall and cast entirely from black iron, rumbled loudly.