Taking Stock of the Spoils

Zhou Wanqing waited from morning until noon.

During that time, she saw quite a few old menial disciples who had gone down the mountain return, yet Lin Fan alone was nowhere to be seen.

At first, Zhou Wanqing silently comforted herself, but as time dragged on, she grew increasingly worried.

She had staked everything on Lin Fan. If something happened to him, it would be utterly unacceptable to her.

As she copied books, Zhou Wanqing occasionally raised her head to look toward the entrance of the Hidden Scripture Pavilion.

"Brother Lin, he'll be all right, won't he?"

Zhou Wanqing pressed her little lips tightly together, feeling more and more uneasy.

"What are you thinking about?"

Suddenly, a familiar voice came from behind her.

Zhou Wanqing immediately turned around and saw the young man's bright smile at a glance.

Overjoyed and startled, she threw herself into Lin Fan's arms without thinking.

"You finally came back..."

Lin Fan froze, instantly understanding what had happened.

So this was what it felt like to be missed by someone.

Lin Fan took out a Foundation Replenishing Pill and, without giving her a chance to refuse, stuffed it into Zhou Wanqing's cherry-like little mouth.

Zhou Wanqing's beautiful eyes widened, but out of trust in Lin Fan, she still swallowed the pill.

"Foundation Replenishing Pill."

Lin Fan spoke softly.

"Brother Lin, thank you..."

Zhou Wanqing's eyes reddened, her heart brimming with emotion.

Under normal circumstances, the menial disciples "drained" during Dual Cultivation on Blackwood Cliff were almost always squeezed dry and left to fend for themselves.

When the previous Dual Cultivation partner "died of illness," those old menial disciples would simply replace them with the next one. No one had ever been like Lin Fan, willing to spend his limited Contribution Points to obtain a Foundation Replenishing Pill for his Dual Cultivation partner.

Of course, these pills did not require many Contribution Points, but to the old hands in the Hidden Scripture Pavilion, every little bit they could save was worth saving.

As for human lives? They were nothing but blades of grass.

Not far away, Feng Ling and the Delicate Girl both noticed this scene.

"This man is rather unique."

The Delicate Girl looked at Feng Ling and asked, "He lived with you for several days before this?"

"Yes."

Feng Ling's expression shifted slightly.

"Even if he has a shred of conscience, he's still a whelp of the demonic sect."

The Delicate Girl shook her head.

Because he had slacked off while going down the mountain that morning, Lin Fan increased his copying speed that afternoon.

You copied "Strange Tales of the Profound Moon" and were rewarded with 5 years of lifespan.

You copied "Miscellaneous Chapters on a Hundred Birds" and were rewarded with 8 years of lifespan.

You copied "Secret Records of Alchemy" and were rewarded with 10 years of lifespan.

After an afternoon of hard work, Lin Fan accumulated another 23 years of lifespan.

At the same time Lin Fan was copying books, two figures dressed in Black Mystic Robes appeared outside the Market Below the Mountain.

One was tall and thin, while the other wore a Golden Mask.

The Tall Thin Man casually waved his hand. The ground exploded with a boom, revealing a dirt pit buried with flesh.

"Not only was he killed with a single punch, even his corpse was blasted into pieces."

"The force of the punch was restrained, yet its momentum was as unstoppable as a bamboo split from the top. This is Fist Momentum..."

The Golden Mask Formal Disciple merely glanced at the corpse before speaking in a deep voice.

"Senior Brother, you're not mistaken, are you?"

The Tall Thin Man was startled. Even among Formal Disciples, there were only a few who could cultivate "Fist Momentum."

Yet someone had now used "Fist Momentum" to kill an old menial disciple who had a chance of becoming a Formal Disciple.

"Are you questioning me?"

"I wouldn't dare."

The Tall Thin Man hurriedly lowered his head.

Although they were both Formal Disciples, the other man surpassed him by far in both strength and status.

The Golden Mask Formal Disciple continued asking, "Were there any witnesses?"

"No."

The Tall Thin Man shook his head. This place was some distance from the market and extremely secluded. If he had not discovered that an old menial disciple from the Hidden Scripture Pavilion had disappeared and personally come looking, he would never have found this place.

They could ignore ordinary Menial Disciples, but there were Formal Disciples secretly keeping an eye on and observing every old menial disciple who had a chance of becoming a Formal Disciple.

The Golden Mask Formal Disciple pondered for a moment, then continued examining the remains. Suddenly, he said coldly, "This man was a spy from the Thousand Hands Sect."

The Thousand Hands Sect was also a great demonic sect, its strength on par with the Blood Demon Sect.

"The Thousand Hands Sect? A spy?"

The Fat Man was startled, but when he followed the Masked Man's gaze, he soon saw a shattered black tentacle.

"Senior Brother has eyes as sharp as a torch. This man must have cultivated the Thousand Hands Sect's Blood Swallowing Demonic Art."

"It's said that this kind of technique causes the body to mutate, growing multiple blood-sucking tentacles."

The Fat Man realized the gravity of the matter and hurriedly asked, "Senior Brother, how should we handle this?"

"Report it to the sect."

The Masked Man thought for a moment before answering.

If this had been an ordinary murder for wealth, then even if an old menial disciple had died, they would have minimized the matter and let it pass. After all, this was a demonic sect. Killing each other was as natural as breathing.

But the dead man was a spy from the Thousand Hands Sect. That made the matter extremely complicated.

It meant that there might be other hidden spies within the sect.

Lin Fan would never have imagined that casually killing Wu Hai would put the entire Blood Demon Sect on alert.

Night came again. Blood Mist filled the air, and faint rustling sounds came from outside the door.

After standing guard through the first half of the night, Zhou Wanqing fell into a deep sleep.

Lin Fan sat behind the door. By the light of the Everlasting Lamp, he took out the cloth bag Wu Hai had left behind.

He glanced at Zhou Wanqing. She was sleeping peacefully and would not wake up anytime soon.

Wu Hai was an old menial disciple, and his seniority in the Hidden Scripture Pavilion was even slightly greater than Wang Biao's.

The cloth bag he had left behind should contain quite a few good things.

With a trace of curiosity, Lin Fan opened the cloth bag.

The first thing that caught his eye was Wu Hai's identity token. The Contribution Points displayed in the upper-right corner totaled a full "250."

"He actually had so many Contribution Points."

Lin Fan's heart jolted.

This wasn't a dozen Contribution Points, nor was it a few dozen. It was more than two hundred Contribution Points!

One had to understand that even if a Menial Disciple of the Hidden Scripture Pavilion neither ate nor drank, they would still have to work themselves to the bone for more than two years to save that much.

"He should have more than just his own Contribution Points. Some of these must belong to the Menial Disciples who died."

Lin Fan quickly remembered those Menial Disciples who had gone down the mountain with Wu Hai and then "disappeared."

If there had previously been no evidence proving that Wu Hai had targeted the other menial disciples, then these Contribution Points were now ironclad evidence.

"Wu Hai is an old menial disciple, and he has the potential to become a Formal Disciple."

"If I transfer these Contribution Points to my own token, it'll be easy to expose the fact that I killed him."

"If that happens, I'll inevitably attract the attention of the Formal Disciples."

Lin Fan pondered for a moment before solemnly putting the token away.

He continued examining the other items and found a manual inside the cloth bag.

"Blood Swallowing Demonic Art."

"This shouldn't be a cultivation method for Menial Disciples. Where did Wu Hai get it?"

Lin Fan was both startled and puzzled.

"Could he have bought it at the market?"

Lin Fan quickly shook his head, rejecting the idea.

The Market Below the Mountain was a low-level market. It did sell corresponding cultivation manuals, but they were all the Blood Demon Sect's most basic or obscure techniques.

He recalled the black tentacles that had shot out when Wu Hai ambushed him. Their power had been extraordinary.

At the time, Wu Hai's combat strength had reached the third grade of the Spirit Gathering Realm, perhaps even infinitely close to the fourth. If Lin Fan had not been stronger and cultivated Fist Momentum, it would have been difficult to kill Wu Hai with a single punch.

"Could those black tentacles be the bodily mutation caused by cultivating this manual?"

Recalling those hideous black tentacles, Lin Fan immediately abandoned the idea of reading the manual. He had no desire to become a hideous, terrifying monster.

Of course, Lin Fan did not destroy it either. He put it away as well.

This manual had a certain value. If he could bring it to the market, he might be able to sell it for a decent price.

At that moment, Lin Fan's eyes lit up. He pulled another small booklet from the cloth bag.

The booklet's cover bore only four small characters: "Daily Observations."

Lin Fan opened the first page. Its contents left him somewhat startled.

"Today is my first day at the Blood Demon Sect. The treatment of the Menial Disciples here is far worse than at the Holy Sect—so much worse it's practically inhuman."

"Today is my second day at the Blood Demon Sect. Last night, an evil creature slammed against the door. Fortunately, I blocked the entrance in time. Otherwise, I would have been devoured clean by the Blood Worms surging out of the Blood Mist."