Bandits

Night fell again.

Li Qingfeng casually prepared a wild chicken, brushed aside the buried embers, and rekindled the fire.

His spiritual power had recovered considerably, enough to handle any wild beasts in the mountains.

While hunting for food, Li Qingfeng had even encountered a pack of wolves, their green eyes gleaming eerily in the dark.

Though the wolves caught the scent of blood on Li Qingfeng, they didn't attack; instead, under the lead wolf's low growl, they retreated.

At the time, Li Qingfeng had thought he might have run into some kind of spirit creature, but he likewise made no move and let the wolves leave.

A noise outside the door caught Li Qingfeng by surprise—could there really be people coming to a place like this?

In no time at all, footsteps grew dense.

The clatter of armor and weapons rang out.

The small group heading this way was clearly armed and armored.

Li Qingfeng gripped the Soul Banner tightly, his expression solemn.

He thought to himself: Could the prefectural city have found my hiding place this quickly?

Uncertain, Li Qingfeng didn't act rashly.

Though his injuries were severe, as a Qi Refiner—even at just Qi Refining First Layer—his physical body was far stronger than what martial artists called an Innate master.

As long as the soldiers didn't form a battle formation, they couldn't stop him.

"Big brother, I remember there's a Mountain God Temple up ahead—we can rest there."

"We've been running all day, the brothers are tired. Let's stop at the Mountain God Temple and head back to the stronghold at dawn."

Their eyes met.

The five of them drew their blades, staring at Li Qingfeng.

The atmosphere grew tense and hostile.

Li Qingfeng swept his gaze over them. Only the leader wore a cotton-padded armor; the rest were in ordinary short clothes, and even their weapons looked like antiques that had seen years of use.

This let Li Qingfeng breathe a sigh of relief. He had thought they were elite soldiers, but they turned out to be just bandits and robbers.

"A beggar?" the tall leader asked.

In these times, with war raging and disasters striking, people who couldn't fill their bellies naturally turned to banditry.

Some villages were outright bandit villages—farming during the busy season, then transforming into mountain kings during the slack season, collecting tolls and looting the dead.

So Li Qingfeng wasn't surprised to run into bandits. Judging by their appearance, they had just been through a bloody fight.

As for beggars, there were even more. In Eight Directions City, beggars could be sorted into small gangs just by their categories.

"Big brother, there's a roast chicken here too."

The short bandit's eyes lit up with delight, and he reached straight for the roasting rack.

"Perfect, the brothers have been hungry all the way. We'll eat this chicken, then fight our way back to Wild Wolf Stronghold," the tall man in the half-cotton armor agreed readily.

As if the roast chicken was already theirs for the taking.

In their eyes, a beggar like Li Qingfeng posed no threat at all.

Clack.

A slender pole wrapped in some unknown brocade blocked the short man's hand.

The short man was first stunned, then looked at his companions. They said nothing, just grinning as if enjoying his embarrassment.

Since when could a stinking beggar stop him?

His companions were clearly in the mood for a show, not thinking much of it.

The short bandit was instantly furious. Having just fled for his life, if he couldn't even handle a beggar, how could he ever hold his head up in the stronghold again?

"Stinking beggar, you've got a death wish!" The short bandit yanked out a waist knife of unknown age.

It had no scabbard, just wrapped haphazardly in tattered cloth strips.

Li Qingfeng glanced at them. Rabble—not worth his effort: "I'm in a very bad mood. If you want to die, find somewhere else."

"Death wish?"

"Hahaha!"

The bandits burst into laughter.

As if they'd heard the funniest joke.

"What nonsense is this beggar spouting? Is he messing with us?"

"We didn't kill enough back at the stronghold, and now a fool delivers himself to us."

"Fine, then I'll grant your wish."

The short bandit laughed in anger, drew his waist knife, and swung it fiercely, aiming to take Li Qingfeng's head off.

To an ordinary person, the movement was fast, but in Li Qingfeng's eyes, the short bandit's action was as slow as a snail.

Mana surged into the Soul Banner as Li Qingfeng shook it.

The White-faced Evil Ghost that Zhao Shixian had transformed into leaped out from the Soul Banner, instantly piercing through the short bandit.

In the eyes of the remaining four, they only saw the short bandit, just as he was about to swing his blade, fall straight to the ground.

They burst into laughter again.

"Shorty, can't even hold your knife steady?"

Li Qingfeng stroked the Soul Banner, then looked at the remaining bandits.

He held back no longer.

The Soul Banner shook, and several evil ghosts leaped out from the banner.

"Something's very wrong." The leader, a big man in a cotton armor, wore a grave expression.

Shorty lay motionless on the ground, while the beggar was waving an unknown command flag in his hand like a shaman performing a ritual.

There was no fear in those eyes, only a look of condescension.

The big man felt this gaze was familiar; he had seen it before.

He suddenly recalled a terrifying incident.

Having been bandits for so long, murder and arson had become routine.

Once, their Flying Tiger Stronghold had kidnapped a bride. After ravaging her, they slaughtered the entire village. Unexpectedly, the resentment rose and a vengeful spirit appeared.

The Flying Tiger Stronghold suffered heavy casualties, and it was only when the Immortal Master guarding the county town stepped in that the spirit was subdued.

They had watched from afar back then and seen the Immortal Master.

That gaze was remarkably similar to the one before him—no, it was the man before him who resembled that Immortal Master.

That Immortal Master was even more aloof, looking down on mortals with an indifferent expression, as if he didn't care at all whether they committed evil.

They had thought their stronghold would be uprooted, but the Immortal Master simply turned and left after dealing with the vengeful spirit, showing no intention of killing them.

"Spare my life, Immortal Master."

The big man thudded to his knees.

The other three bandits were stunned, disbelief written all over their faces.

How could it be that after their fight and getting separated, they just happened to find a Mountain God Temple and run into an Immortal Master?

Besides, why was the Immortal Master dressed like a beggar?

"Big brother, you've lost it. He's just a stinking beggar." One bandit, still refusing to believe, charged forward with his blade.

The mountain demon standing beside Li Qingfeng grinned, revealing its fangs. It shot out with a whoosh, passed straight through the bandit's body, tore out his Living Soul, and returned to the Soul Banner without lingering.

With two men falling before him, Li Qingfeng's initial anger eased considerably.

"Please, Immortal Master, spare us. We only became bandits because we had no other choice."

"It's the imperial taxes—they're too heavy. We simply couldn't afford them."

"We were just trying to get a bite to eat. We never dared to hurt anyone."

"We'll turn over a new leaf from now on."

The two were terrified out of their wits. Where had they ever seen such eerie methods?

With just a shake of the flag in his hand, two fierce bandits had fallen to the ground.

Seeing the remaining three bandits all kneeling and kowtowing without stop, Li Qingfeng couldn't help but hesitate. Heaven has a virtue for loving life; if these men could truly reform, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

A scholar was still a scholar, sometimes far too soft-hearted.

As Li Qingfeng was deliberating, a sudden change occurred. The mana he had accumulated in his body was instantly drained by ninety percent, leaving only enough to suppress his injuries.

Without the support of mana, the yin ghosts lurking around him dissipated and returned to the Soul Banner.

Li Qingfeng staggered two steps, fell to the ground, and leaned against the base of the Mountain God statue.

The big man secretly observed Li Qingfeng's condition. At that moment, he suddenly understood—this Immortal Master was injured.

And it looked serious.

The big man didn't believe for a second that the Immortal Master would spare them just because they begged.

He must be too badly hurt to act.

"Immortal Master, what's wrong?" The big man hurriedly crawled forward two steps, trying to get close to Li Qingfeng.

A sharp glint flashed in Li Qingfeng's eyes. He didn't know what was happening to him—why had ninety percent of his mana been drained? With his injuries, the momentum he had built up instantly collapsed.

Li Qingfeng, mimicking the way the storytellers at the teahouse described great figures, barked sternly: "Stand back!"

The big man, instead, saw this as an opportunity. He crawled a few more steps while still on his knees: "Immortal Master, how are you feeling, sir?"

The Mountain God Temple was only so big.

A few steps of closeness had already brought him near Li Qingfeng.

The big man's suppressed malice erupted. He leaped up suddenly, drawing his blade and swinging it down.