Chapter 152

Chapter 152: Send Him Back, Dog Bites Dog

Yu Zhi Yi had long heard that there were other mystic arts practitioners in the world, and she knew some people hated the long, boring grind of cultivation, so they turned to crooked shortcuts to help their cultivation.

Those people were called demonic cultivators. They were often very strong, and even mystic arts practitioners of the same level could suffer heavy losses against them, sometimes even losing their lives.

Take the demonic cultivator who laid down the Hundred-Dream Slaughter as an example. His strength was weaker than Yu Zhi Yi’s, yet he still managed to lure her into the formation.

If it had been a righteous formation, Yu Zhi Yi would have sensed it at once.

But the kinds of formations used by demonic cultivators were many and strange. Even she might not notice them at the start.

If he had used it on another mystic arts practitioner, he would likely have already succeeded.

Too bad for him, his target was her.

She looked toward a certain direction and let a cold smile touch her eyes: [Got you.]

Formations were tied to their creators in countless ways. If the formation was broken, the one who set it would face a backlash.

At the same time, in a grand mansion on the city outskirts, a plain-looking man sat with beauties on both sides. One kneaded his shoulders, one pounded his legs, and another fed him wine. From a distance it looked like he had wandered into a spider’s lair.

He enjoyed it without shame, pinching one girl’s cheek, then teasing another with bawdy words. He was having a great time.

Across from him, a middle-aged man dressed like a commoner spoke in a low voice: “Master, can this really work?”

Though he tried to keep his voice steady, there was still a sharp edge in it.

The “master” shot him a contemptuous look. His gaze flicked between the man’s legs, then he said carelessly: “Just a stray with no sect and no teacher. Even with talent, she is no match for me.”

“As for the Hundred-Dream Slaughter, even a peak of the qi refining stage can’t break it. At best, they get pushed into the later, high-level dream realms.”

He gave a cold laugh: “If she dies in the early dream layers, that’s actually lucky for her. She will only feel fear, and her soul will stay whole. But if she enters the higher dream layers and dies there, she won’t even keep her soul.”

Each dream layer after that would scatter a person’s soul.

The middle-aged man let out a breath of relief: “Then I… then I can rest easy. Don’t worry, once this is done, my master will reward you well.”

“Heh. Then prepare more girls for me,” the man said, letting his eyes slide over the women beside him with open disdain: “Remember, what I want are virgins.”

The formation flag he used for the Hundred-Dream Slaughter had to be fed with virgin blood to work, and to grow stronger and stronger.

Suddenly, the man jerked as if an invisible hand had seized his neck of fate. His eyes flew wide and bulged.

A mouthful of blood spurted from his lips.

The middle-aged man and the women jumped in fright. The women scattered like startled birds.

The middle-aged man started forward, but as soon as he moved, the master toppled to the floor and rolled in agony.

He howled with pain.

Then his face began to change.

A moment ago he had looked like a man in his thirties or forties. In a blink his skin shriveled, and soon he looked like an eighty- or ninety-year-old.

That still wasn’t the end.

An old man, even that old, at least still looked human.

In the next breaths, every trace of color, sheen, and moisture left his face. His skin dried to a husk.

He looked like a skeleton wrapped in a piece of tight, dried skin. It was terrifying.

“Ah! A ghost!”

The women screamed and ran out of the room.

The middle-aged man stared in horror, eyes wide.

At last, the master stopped changing and stopped rolling.

Flat on his back, gasping, he moved his hands and tried to push himself up. He happened to catch sight of his own hand.

His eyes flew open again.

He grabbed at his face.

“No! No! My face!”

“My cultivation base!”

All at once he raised his head and glared at the middle-aged man: “Go tell your master this: you hid the woman’s true cultivation base from me. Because of you, my cultivation base has plummeted. I will remember this debt! Tell her to wash her neck and wait!”

…

Yu Zhi Yi’s mouth curved.

She had not only broken the Hundred-Dream Slaughter. She had also followed the caster’s aura and used a talisman across the distance to shatter his cultivation base.

At that moment, his strength had fallen to that of a mortal.

He could no longer stir up any real trouble.

She could have killed him outright.

After all, a poisonous thing like the Hundred-Dream Slaughter needed virgin blood to nourish it and raise its level. For it to be this powerful today, that demonic cultivator must have ruined the lives of eight hundred girls, if not a thousand.

A piece of scum like that deserved worse than death.

But Yu Zhi Yi wanted to keep him around to deal with the person behind him.

She could guess who had paid a large price to buy this demonic cultivator’s services: [This isn’t hard to figure out.]

The demonic cultivator had failed, lost a century or more of cultivation, and even had his proud Hundred-Dream Slaughter array flag destroyed. He would hate someone to the bone.

After suffering such a loss at her hands, he wouldn’t dare target her again. He would only dare turn that hatred toward his employer in the shadows.

[Nothing I like more than watching dogs bite dogs.]

And if he underestimated that person’s resolve and they actually came knocking on her door…

Heh. [Just a stray cur.]

Yu Zhi Yi returned to Windward Pavilion, and not long after, Du Zi Heng came by.

Today’s trouble hadn’t threatened Yu Zhi Yi at all, and she wasn’t hurt, but Li Rou had been badly frightened. When they came back, her face was pale and she seemed dazed.

The steward noticed Li Rou’s state and reported it to Du Zi Heng.

He asked, concern in his voice: “Are you all right?”

Yu Zhi Yi shook her head lightly: “I’m fine.”

Seeing her calm look and easy movements, as if nothing had touched her, Du Zi Heng frowned in doubt: “The steward said Li Rou looked terrified. Did something happen on the road?”

Yu Zhi Yi didn’t hide it: “Someone hired a demonic cultivator to attack us. Li Rou was indeed scared.”

Du Zi Heng’s face changed: “A demonic cultivator? Is that what I think it is?”

Yu Zhi Yi nodded: “Yes.”

His expression darkened further. He didn’t know exactly how strong demonic cultivators were, but he knew how dangerous scum among ordinary men could be.

“Good timing then,” he said. “The young manor lord of Tianyu Mountain Villa is coming today, and I will ask him to help catch that demonic cultivator.”

Yu Zhi Yi paused: “The young manor lord of Tianyu Mountain Villa?”

Her eyes grew a little odd.

In her last life, that young manor lord also became You Bing Yue’s close confidant.

Because of that, later, when Du Zi Heng held the chancellor’s seat, he even used his power to send troops against Tianyu Mountain Villa.

Today was the very day the young manor lord would fall in love with You Bing Yue at first sight.

And if she guessed right, something interesting would happen today as well.

Not knowing what she was thinking, Du Zi Heng explained, “Young Manor Lord Li is my friend. When I traveled for study, I lived at Tianyu Mountain Villa for a while.”

Then he remembered why he had come: “Tomorrow night my friends are meeting at the manor. Zhi Yi, will you come?”

Yu Zhi Yi raised a brow: “Will Miss You be there?”