Back in the medicine shed’s yard, several horse-drawn carts were already prepared.
Bundles of spiritual herbs were stacked on the carts, secured tightly with coarse hemp rope.
These spiritual herbs were low in grade; even loading a few more carts wouldn’t catch the eye of inner disciples.
Though their value was low, their purpose was great.
The number of menial laborers under the Taiwei Immortal Sect, along with the stewards of the outer manors, was beyond counting.
These people’s monthly wages, along with the cultivation consumption of the low-grade disciples, all depended on these Low-Grade Spiritual Materials.
A small place like the Qingwu Medicine Garden relied on these very things to stay on the Taiwei Immortal Sect’s registry year after year.
Luo Zhao walked around the carts for a look.
“The binding is quite sturdy.”
He reached out and pressed down on one bundle of spiritual herbs, his tone critical, “But when sending things to the Pill Hall, the worst mistake is letting rotten leaves slip in.”
“Steward Zhou, did you inspect everything during yesterday’s inventory?”
Zhou Huai hurriedly lowered his head.
“All inspected, I would never dare pass off bad herbs as good.”
Luo Zhao was about to say more when several tightly wrapped manor workers beside him lifted the medicine baskets and began hauling the last few bundles of spiritual herbs onto the cart.
Their movements were slow, yet oddly uniform.
The heavy medicine basket landed on the cart bed with a dull thud.
Liu Manqing glanced over as well.
She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, but these carts were clearly only loaded with spiritual herbs, yet the axles seemed to be pressed down a bit low.
Zhou Huai said respectfully, “If the cultivators have no other orders, once the ropes are reinforced, we can set off.”
Luo Zhao frowned, about to speak.
The ground beneath his feet suddenly trembled.
Boom!
The cart frame shook, and the top few bundles of spiritual herbs tumbled down.
Luo Zhao stepped back several paces, his expression uncertain.
“What’s going on?”
Zhou Huai’s face turned even paler than his.
He stared at the carts, his lips going white, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat on the spot.
Liu Manqing furrowed her brows.
She had clearly noticed something among the spiritual herbs just now.
It had flashed for only an instant, quickly covered up again.
Her gaze fell on those tightly wrapped manor workers standing nearby.
Even Luo Zhao hadn’t reacted in time to the tremor just now, staggering a few steps, yet these people hadn’t been affected in the slightest.
Seeing Zhou Huai’s strange expression, Luo Zhao’s tone grew harsher.
“Steward Zhou, what was that noise?”
Zhou Huai’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
He forced a smile and said, “Please don’t be alarmed, Cultivator Luo. Perhaps it was just an underground water vein shifting.”
Luo Zhao frowned.
“Underground water vein?”
“Our area is low-lying land. An occasional sound like this isn’t strange.”
Seeing Zhou Huai’s cautious demeanor, Luo Zhao stared at him coldly.
Though he was vain and cared about face, he wasn’t a fool.
This back courtyard was wide open; beyond the medicine shed lay flat fields, not even a deep well in sight.
He was about to press further when his peripheral vision caught Liu Manqing crouching down.
“Fellow Daoist Liu?”
Luo Zhao turned around and realized she was staring at a strip of red cloth lying beside the scattered spiritual herbs.
Liu Manqing reached out and picked it up, rubbing the cloth’s edge between her fingers.
Yesterday evening, that little girl with the two horn-shaped buns—the strip tied in her hair seemed to be exactly this cloth.
Seeing her stay silent for so long, Luo Zhao couldn’t help asking, “Fellow Daoist Liu, is there something wrong with the cloth?”
Liu Manqing didn’t answer.
She followed the direction where the red cloth had been pressed down, looking toward the pile of scattered spiritual herbs beneath the cart.
Zhou Huai, standing nearby, had long since clenched his hands tightly inside his sleeves.
He hadn’t seen what Liu Manqing had just picked up.
But seeing her examine the underside of the cart, Zhou Huai visibly began to panic.
“Lady Liu.”
The two of them turned to look at him at the same time.
Cold sweat had already soaked through Zhou Huai’s back, yet he still forced himself to stay calm as he said, “It’s quite dirty down there. If Lady Liu wishes to look, why not let me clean it up first?”
Liu Manqing refused gently, “No need to trouble yourself. I’m just taking a casual look.”
Zhou Huai’s strange behavior at this moment had already planted a seed of caution in her heart.
Liu Manqing carefully rubbed the torn cloth in her palm.
The edges of the cloth were torn jaggedly, as if it had been ripped off by force.
But why—
She suddenly caught a faint scent of something bloody.
Liu Manqing’s gaze darkened.
She raised her hand and sent out spiritual power, blasting all the spiritual herbs off the cart.
“Lady Liu, you—!”
Zhou Huai’s voice cut off abruptly.
The scattered spiritual herbs drifted down, revealing the hidden compartment beneath the cart floor.
The first thing to be revealed was a small hand.
That hand was clenched very tightly.
Stuck to the palm was half a candy wrapper soaked through with blood.
Dark red formation patterns were plastered all over the underside of the wooden boards, spreading out like a spider’s web laid across the cart bottom.
At the center of the formation, several small, hunched figures lay curled up.
That little girl from yesterday lay among them, her sleeves and hair still stuck to the wooden boards, her death a gruesome sight.
Luo Zhao stumbled backward in fright.
“This!—A blood refining formation?!”
He suddenly pulled out a talisman.
“Zhou Huai, you’ve got some nerve!”
“Where did you get this formation? Are there demon cultivators in the manor?!”
“Cultivator Luo, I…”
Zhou Huai tried to make excuses, but he also feared the talisman in Luo Zhao’s hand.
Liu Manqing looked at Zhou Huai, her usually gentle brows gradually turning cold.
“Steward Zhou, why?”
Those words lodged in her throat, hard to force out.
“These… these are the children of the manor.”
By the end, Liu Manqing’s voice was trembling.
She had walked through the entire medicine manor yesterday.
There weren’t many households here to begin with, and these children were likely all the manor had.
Now they lay here, their lifeblood drained dry.
The last trace of color drained from Zhou Huai’s face as well.
All those reasonable excuses, all those helpless justifications, clogged up in his throat.
But the dark red formation patterns beneath the cart suddenly flickered.
A thread of blood light seeped out from the gaps in the wooden boards, rapidly connecting to the feet of the nearby manor workers.
Those workers wrapped in coarse cloth all stopped moving at the same time.
Then, they began tearing at the coarse cloth clothing on their bodies, quickly revealing gray-white, hardened skin.
Several small talisman nails were driven into their flesh, with dark red blood seeping from the edges of the nail holes.
The corpse puppet at the front raised a hand and pressed it against the edge of the cart.
Crack.
The thick wooden board split apart under its palm, wood chips mixed with spiritual herbs falling with a rustle.
It only took one step forward, and the muddy ground beneath its foot sank half an inch deep.
“Corpse puppet.”
Liu Manqing’s face filled with shock, her voice trembling with fear.
“A Foundation Establishment realm corpse puppet!”
Luo Zhao’s expression changed, and he immediately hurled the talisman in his hand.
The talisman ignited on its own in midair.
Boom!
Blue-white lightning exploded abruptly, fine arcs of electricity crawling over the corpse puppet’s entire body in an instant, burning even the coarse cloth on it to ash.
A scorched stench spread sharply.
Luo Zhao’s talisman strike was no weak one.
The lightning nearly swallowed the corpse puppet whole, and the spiritual herbs beside the cart were blasted aside by the shockwave.
But when the electric light faded, the corpse puppet still stood in place.
Its chest was charred black, gray-white flesh split open slightly.
Those talisman nails trembled lightly, quickly pulling the split flesh back together.
The struck corpse puppet turned its head, its murky eyes fixed dead on Luo Zhao.
Luo Zhao’s face drastically changed.
This thunder talisman—even a Perfect Qi Refinement realm demon beast would have its skin split open from a hit.
Yet against this corpse puppet, it had no effect whatsoever.
He clutched a second talisman for a long time, unable to throw it right away.
“Fellow Daoist Sun! Fellow Daoist Liu!”
“Fall back!”
Liu Manqing immediately leaped backward, but her gaze remained fixed on the children beneath the cart.
Sun Buping, who had been silent all along, didn’t move.
Ever since the corpse puppet had shed its disguise, he seemed rooted to the spot.
His gaze stayed fixed on the tallest corpse puppet.
On that puppet’s wrist, there was a visible old scar.
A scene from years ago surfaced from the depths of Sun Buping’s memory.
The shattered manor gate.
The clan members being dragged away.
Screams.
Firelight.
And the hand pressing down on his father’s head.
On the wrist of that hand, there was also a crescent-shaped brand scar like this one.
He had searched for many years.
Everyone said that man had died long ago.
Sun Buping had once thought he would never find him again.
But now, that man stood right before him.
In this half-dead state.
The hulking corpse puppet seemed to sense his gaze and stiffly turned its head.
Beneath its pale, withered face, those murky eyes shifted.
Sun Buping’s face twisted bit by bit.
The usual dullness and silence were all torn away in this single moment.
“Tu Lian…”
The spiritual power of Perfect Qi Refinement exploded outward with a bang.
Sun Buping’s face twisted with rage as he roared at it.
“Tu Lian!”
“How dare you still be alive!”