Slaughter

The Qingjing Sword Temple, a cultivation method imparted to An Jing by a mysterious voice, was a form of visualization.

This visualization allowed An Jing to contemplate a rusted sword within his heart, brushing it with his intent, subduing it with his mind, and honing it with his persistence, eventually allowing him to cultivate a Qingjing Clear-Mind Sword Heart, capable of taming the heart-ape, curbing the intent-horse, and attaining true freedom.

It was also a method for cultivating the spirit, capable of increasing spiritual intent and suppressing the mental influence brought about by the Imperial Heaven Piercing-God One-Origin Qi-Nurturing Method.

An Jing did not need to reach the final stage, and now was not the time to break through his Internal Breath; he only needed to visualize this sword to suppress the demonic thoughts proliferating in his heart, and to suppress the influence of the monster meat and Heartless Water he had consumed for too long.

He whispered the incantation, visualized the rusted sword in his heart, focused on the carving, his clear intent becoming limpid, his meditation thorough.

A quarter of an hour later, An Jing opened his eyes, a flash of pure baleful aura and killing intent passing through them. He felt the many shackles and thorns that had long been entwined around his soul being severed by a beam of sword light, making his thinking more agile and clear, and his grasp of the Innate Qi within his body more distinct and sensitive.

He stood up: "There is a sound."

It was the dead of night, the rainy night was noisy, and there was thunder; although the manor was not entirely empty and firelight flickered, An Jing still heard sounds from a building not far away.

Those were the sounds of children, wailing and crying.

There were still people alive.

The sword sound also issued an instruction: [Enter the dungeon, the key is there—if you wish to obtain power that transcends all, that is the key.]

"Understood."

An Jing did not know who the mysterious sword voice was, but he could see that the other party was definitely not on the same side as the Demonic Cult; they were their enemy, and had helped him several times along the way.

He was willing to follow the other party's instructions: "But how do I get in?"

He had already found the 'dungeon' where the sound originated; it was a building connected to the mountain, with only a small part protruding, while the vast majority of the structure was located inside the mountain.

The main entrance was an iron gate. An Jing had no key, and it was impossible to charge in with brute force; that would definitely attract many guards and instructors stationed at Dongshan Manor.

[There is a window on the side.]

The sword voice guided: [You can enter from there, but you must find a way yourself.]

An Jing quickly found the 'window' the sword voice spoke of; it was a ventilation opening on the side of the building, barred with iron rods, through which one could vaguely see the flickering lamps inside the dungeon.

The quality of the iron rods was not high, and they had become somewhat corroded over the years, but they were still not things that could be easily twisted off—An Jing could destroy them with brute force, but the sound produced would definitely alert the people nearby.

However, An Jing possessed sufficient wisdom... even if the wisdom of this life was not enough, he still had the wisdom of his past lives.

Looking around, An Jing quickly found some wooden strips in a corner, then tore off the lining of his clothes to turn them into cloth strips.

He wetted the cloth strips with rain, arranged the wooden strips into a cross, and then wrapped the soaked cloth strips between the cross and two iron rods, forming a knot to create a force-multiplying lever.

An Jing slowly twisted the wood, using the principle of leverage to tighten the cloth strips.

The water-soaked cloth strips were tougher, and the iron rods were indeed of poor material; they were actually twisted open bit by bit, creating two gaps large enough for a youth to crawl through.

"This is the principle of leverage."

Seeing the iron bars of the ventilation window actually twisted open by his own hand, An Jing could not help but sigh. He had not expected that the simple principles he mastered would have such miraculous effects in practice, using such ordinary materials to turn decay into magic; it could truly be called world-shaking wisdom.

In reality, there was little difference between prying with a lever and prying with brute force, but the lever was more stable. An Jing was also being cautious to avoid using too much force and alerting the people inside.

Now was not the time for sighs.

An Jing crawled into the ventilation window like a large cat.

He arrived inside the dungeon.

The dim dungeon was filled with the vapor of the rainstorm and swirling wind; there was a faint kerosene lamp light in the distant corridor, and the smell was foul and flickering.

The dungeon was full of the stench of urine and rot, the weak wailing and groaning were incessant, and at the same time, there was a chilling, bloody smell.

An Jing cautiously looked around. This was a straight corridor, built of bluestone, covered in filth, the light dim and hazy; it took him a while to see the scene inside clearly.

Then, a bone-chilling cold surged from the base of his spine, causing him to lose the ability to speak for a moment.

A slaughterhouse.

If a person were fortunate enough to have visited a slaughterhouse, they would know what true slaughter was: the butcher would place the livestock on a rack, fix their bodies, and then use bolts or heavy hammers to drive nails into the livestock's heads, or simply beat them until they were unconscious.

A skilled butcher would then keenly cut the blood vessels on both sides of the livestock's neck, draining the blood as quickly as possible, and catching it with a bucket, wasting nothing. The livestock might struggle at this time, but the sturdy rack would curb all its movements; they could only scream and shed tears until the last bit of strength flowed away with the blood, until even the tears turned to blood.

Then, this drained skin-bag would be hung up by a hook, suspended from a beam, and then its belly would be cut open, all the internal organs falling into a basin.

Their carcasses would sway with the butcher's movements, emitting a fishy stench. If it were a skilled butcher, they could separate all the meat and bones with just a small knife, eventually leaving only a stark white skeleton.

This was a slaughterhouse. People who were not accustomed to death would feel fear and nausea at this scene even if the dead were livestock; the work of processing life as material was like this, which is why the sages said that a gentleman should stay away from the kitchen.

This was only livestock.

But...

What if it was humans being slaughtered?

What if those hanging carcasses, those white bones, eyeballs, blood, and internal organs... all originated from people he knew?

"Demonic Cult... heh, I never understood what 'demonic' meant before, but now I understand a little."

The chill that made his teeth chatter, surging from the depths of blood and bone, was swept away by a surge of anger born from his heart and mind. An Jing did not change his expression, but instead looked at everything before him with extreme calmness, at those 'carcasses' hanging on both sides of the dungeon walls.

Zhao Yong'an, Xu Yi, Xie Pinglan, Li Junyi, Zhao Ran'er...

One name after another surfaced, and he remembered them, recording them in the deepest part of his heart.

He was not livestock because he had talent... what if he didn't?

Closing his eyes, An Jing still remembered his mission; he could not let his mind be clouded by rage.

Because there were still people alive.

There were quite a few children still alive in the cells, but most were already exhausted and asleep, while the few still moaning were in a daze.

An Jing smelled the scent of Heartless Water; it seemed those medicinal liquids were fed to these boys and girls, forcing them into this "stable" state so they could not struggle, self-harm, resist, or observe their surroundings.

An Jing silently gazed at each face; he remembered every one of them, as they were all Children of Calamity who had been gradually "eliminated" over these past few months.

Although there were some he did not see, he presumed most of them had once waited here, waiting for the arrival of death?

[The key is ahead]

Guided by the increasingly chilling sword sound, An Jing looked in the direction indicated, where the exit of the dungeon lay.

There was someone guarding the exit.

It was an elderly member of the Demonic Cult, his head full of white hair, though his body was still quite sturdy. He was sitting on a chair, his head tilted to the side, fast asleep.

An Jing recognized the man; he was an uncommon instructor named Song, whom he only saw occasionally. So, he had been stationed here as a guard.

It made sense; no matter how lax the management was or how easy guarding the children might be, someone still had to watch the door.

An Jing looked carefully and discovered an empty medicinal cup on the table—did this old man suffer from insomnia, using Heartless Water as a sedative to sleep?

Haha, could it be that he feels uneasy because he cannot bear to see such a tragic sight? Truly, he is not even qualified to be a member of the Demonic Cult!

His heart was incredibly calm. An Jing saw the keys hanging on the wall nearby; there were several sets, each containing three keys.

[Take the keys]

An Jing narrowed his eyes, staring at the old Demonic Cultist before him.

This old thing was also in the Internal Breath realm, but the good thing was that he was not a man in his prime. In that case, if the man were suddenly startled awake, he still had a chance to defeat him quickly.

However, he was sleeping too soundly. An Jing used Mysterious Steps to advance, silently retrieving the keys. Throughout the entire trip back and forth, Instructor Song did not react at all; An Jing even smelled the scent of alcohol.

This old thing, drinking alcohol and taking medicine? An Jing felt quite speechless; with this level of quality, he could twist the man's head off with one hand.

But now was not the time. Holding the keys, An Jing crawled out of the ventilation shaft.

Using a wooden strip, he slowly restored the twisted iron bars; although they were still slightly warped, an ordinary person would not be able to tell.

[Go]

The sword sound was somewhat excited: [Go to the storage room in the building next door]

"Understood."

An Jing took a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly, and then he suddenly looked toward the direction of the main manor: "Wait, there is a sound over there!"

Having initially learned the Qingjing Sword Temple, and after sharpening the rusted sword with his own rage, hatred, and sense of powerlessness, An Jing's perception had become much sharper—this meditation method could significantly enhance his perception and the sensitivity of his five senses, allowing him to see shadows slowly approaching the East Mountain: "People have arrived at the main manor!"

[This may also be a test for you—there is a time limit to indulgence]

The sword sound returned to calm: [Do you intend to return during the chaos, or will you follow my instructions?]

"Is that even a question?"

An Jing did not hesitate in the slightest; he walked quickly toward the storage room: "I have made up my mind, and I will not change it."

The storage room was not far from the dungeon, separated only by a long corridor. An Jing walked rapidly and soon arrived at the location of the storage room.

Like the dungeon, the storage room was located inside the mountain, its black iron door locked tight.

[Open the door]

The clear, spiritual sword sound trembled, which was a rare occurrence.

An Jing took out the keys. Excluding the dungeon key, he tried the other two keys one by one.

The first one did not work and would not turn. An Jing did not panic and immediately switched to the second one.

He twisted it, and it opened.

The storage room of the Tianyi Sect opened its doors to An Jing.