Chapter 252
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“Forget it.” The silver-haired man seemed rather amiable as he refuted: “Even though my subordinate didn’t see you kill those six bandits, just from the wounds on their throats, I can easily tell—it was the small sword hidden in your chest that killed them.”
Hearing this, Zhang Xiaohua instinctively reached into his chest. Thankfully, the small sword and money pouch were still there, along with the four small Yuan Stones.
With a bashful expression of being exposed, Zhang Xiaohua said: “So you all knew, huh? Heh heh.”
“Speak! Why exactly did you do it? That’s seven lives we’re talking about! A mere young boy like you being so ruthless—could it be that they had some deep-seated enmity with you, like a blood feud?”
“A blood feud?” Zhang Xiaohua’s eyes flickered before he immediately put on a sorrowful expression and said: “Daren, you’re absolutely right! I do have a blood feud with those bandits, and today, I came for revenge.”
Then, with a sorrowful tone, he started weaving an exaggerated and convoluted story. However, before he could even get past the introduction, the silver-haired man waved his hand impatiently. “Enough with the nonsense. I have no interest in listening to your made-up tales. With your skills, how could you possibly have a personal grudge against those bandits? I don’t care whether they lived or died. I’m only going to ask you one thing—where is the cauldron from the secret chamber?”
“Cauldron?” Zhang Xiaohua was completely baffled and asked in confusion, “Daren, you must see clearly—I never saw any cauldron at all! To be honest, I didn’t even know there was a secret chamber in that place. My original plan was to assassinate the stronghold leader, but he was always with your people, so I had no opportunity. That’s when I thought of sneaking into the back hall to hide and wait for a chance to strike. When I saw the secret chamber, its entrance was already open. I went down purely out of curiosity, but it was completely empty—there was nothing at all. Oh, right, except for some strange weapons. I was just about to head back up when the stronghold leader and his men returned. That’s when I seized the opportunity to assassinate him.”
The silver-haired man stared at Zhang Xiaohua, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or lying. After listening to him, he asked: “Which sect are you from? Or which organization? If it’s one I’m familiar with, once I verify it, I’ll let you go.”
Zhang Xiaohua smiled and said: “I’m really a disciple of Piaomiao Sect.”
The silver-haired man also smiled and asked: “Then do you know about the Heavenly Dragon Divine Cult?”
“Heavenly Dragon Divine Cult?” Zhang Xiaohua’s eyes flickered, and he replied: “I’ve heard my master, Wen Wenhai, mention it before. He said it’s just a minor, insignificant sect.”
“Hahaha! Hahahaha!” The silver-haired man laughed uproariously, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard that he almost shed tears before saying: “You little brat, you’re truly cunning! I don’t know where you heard Wen Wenhai’s name, but you shamelessly cling to his reputation. Are you trying to make me go easy on you just because you claim to be the direct disciple of Ou Peng’s lineage? But if you haven’t even heard of the Heavenly Dragon Divine Cult, how could you possibly be a disciple of Piaomiao Sect?”
“Heavenly Dragon Divine Cult? Is it really that famous? Should I have heard of it?” Zhang Xiaohua was filled with questions and secretly muttered to himself: “Second Brother is a direct disciple of Piaomiao Sect, but I’ve never heard him mention the name Tianlong Divine Sect.”
Zhang Xiaohua helplessly spread his hands and said: “Since Daren doesn’t believe me, just consider me self-taught, then.”
“Self-taught?” The silver-haired man snorted coldly. “You strike with ruthless precision, a single sword sealing the throat. That’s not something an ordinary person can do. Without strict training, how could I possibly believe you?”
Hearing this, Zhang Xiaohua was also momentarily lost in thought. Yes, seven lives had been taken by his hand. Ever since he overheard Brother Xu and the bandits planning to raid Guo Village, he had instinctively recalled the massacre in the neighboring village and the brutality of the Three Wolves of West Cui Mountain. That was when the killing intent took root in his heart. He remembered when his first sword pierced a bandit’s throat—he had hesitated. But when that wound bled red, the sight had sent a chill through his entire body, even causing him to tremble. Yet, there had been no fear or regret. With the subsequent killings, perhaps he had grown numb, perhaps he had adapted—his strikes became smoother and deadlier. Was he truly so ruthless?
A sudden chill rose in Zhang Xiaohua’s heart and spread through his entire body. Yes, facing seven bandits, his overwhelming strength made them seem no different from weak ants. A mere flick of his wrist had left them with no chance of survival. This was his first time taking the initiative to kill, yet he felt no fear at all. Was he still himself? Had his killings been too clean, without a single drop of blood spilled, making it so that he felt no guilt? Had their peaceful, sleep-like deaths deceived him into thinking they were merely resting?
A trace of fear emerged in Zhang Xiaohua’s eyes.
It was a fear of his own actions, a fear of his own nature.
The silver-haired man, keenly aware of Zhang Xiaohua’s change in expression, curled his lips into a subtle smile.
However, almost simultaneously, an indescribable, tranquil flow emerged from Zhang Xiaohua’s mind. It first flowed into his heart and then spread throughout his entire body. In that instant, his heart surged with vigor, and a thought took root in his mind:
If anyone harms my family, no matter how far, they shall be slain.
If it is for my family, no matter how dangerous, I shall face it.
As soon as this thought arose, it grew stronger and stronger until it dominated his consciousness with an unyielding force. And then, a single phrase emerged from the depths of his heart:
“If I do not enter hell, who will?”
Zhang Xiaohua’s eyes instantly became resolute, and his state of mind underwent a transformation akin to being reborn. This tempering of his mental state was profoundly mysterious. The white-haired person had no idea that his provocative words had actually allowed Zhang Xiaohua’s cultivation to advance another step. Seeing the look in Zhang Xiaohua’s eyes, the smile at the corner of the white-haired person’s mouth faded. He thought to himself: What a pity. He had intended to use a psychological attack, aiming straight at Zhang Xiaohua’s heart with his words, testing his mental limits, and making him obediently reveal what he wished to know. But now, having failed, he couldn’t help but lose his patience.
The silver-haired man said coldly: “Are you really unwilling to reveal your origins?”
Zhang Xiaohua said with a smile. “Daren, I’ve told you nothing but the truth, yet you refuse to believe me.”
The silver-haired man let out an angry laugh. “Good, good.”
With a flicker of movement, he suddenly pointed a finger at the acupoint under Zhang Xiaohua’s armpit. The distance between them was so close that Zhang Xiaohua had no time to dodge. A sharp, numbing sensation spread through his limbs, causing him to collapse to the ground, nearly crying out in pain.
However, the sensation came and went swiftly. Before Zhang Xiaohua could even open his mouth, the numbness had already faded. He stood up weakly and asked: “What was that for?”
The silver-haired man was taken aback. Normally, anyone struck at this acupoint would be writhing on the ground in agony. Yet, this youth had only winced for a moment before regaining his composure.
His expression darkened completely, and he sneered. “Since you refuse to cooperate, don’t blame me for being ruthless. Our Divine Cult has eighty-one torture techniques—let’s see how you fare against the Soul-Searching Hand.”
With that, he struck out again. This time, Zhang Xiaohua was prepared. As he saw the finger approaching, he swiftly sidestepped, preparing to use the Piaomiao Step to evade. But no matter how he dodged, that finger remained locked onto him like a shadow, drawing ever closer. Is this the difference between me and a true martial expert? Zhang Xiaohua asked himself.
With a gentle touch of his finger, it seemed even softer than before. However, this time, it carried forty percent of the white-haired man’s internal force. Even though Zhang Xiaohua practiced an Immortal Dao cultivation technique, the overwhelming difference in strength made it impossible for him to escape. His body, which had withstood the tests of the two young monks at Dalin Temple, now trembled uncontrollably as if struck by lightning. An indescribable sour and bitter pain surged from his limbs, instantly draining all the strength from his body. The agony spread throughout him, piercing directly into his mind like a sentient awl, stabbing fiercely into his skull. Zhang Xiaohua collapsed limply to the ground, his entire body convulsing. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead as he couldn’t help but let out low moans of pain.
Truly, it lived up to its name—Soul Searching Hand.
The torment lasted for half the time it took for an incense stick to burn before it finally subsided. Zhang Xiaohua lay on the ground as if completely drained, unwilling to move even a finger. The pain was bizarre, gut-wrenching, and almost unbearable. He felt as though he would pass out at any moment, yet he was unable to do so. His mind remained excruciatingly clear.
The white-haired man resumed his genial demeanor, smiling as he asked: “Little hero, can you tell me where that cauldron is now?”
Zhang Xiaohua weakly responded in a faint voice: “Daren… I truly have never seen that cauldron. How am I supposed to tell you where it is?”
A glint of cold light flashed in the white-haired man’s eyes as he raised his leg, preparing to strike again. But upon glancing at the time, he chuckled and said: “Heh, still putting on a tough act? No matter, I have all the time in the world to make you understand. The Divine Cult has many methods—I’ll let you taste them one by one. Let’s see how long you can endure.”
With that, he extended his five fingers and seized Zhang Xiaohua’s acupoints, sending force deep into his muscles and bones. Zhang Xiaohua’s body immediately stiffened, unable to move in the slightest as he was grasped in the man’s hand.
At the same time, the white-haired man showed a hint of surprise. Is this boy really a secular disciple of Dalin Temple? Was he raised on a vegetarian diet?
By the roadside, Ying Fei stood obediently, holding the reins of two horses. Seeing Qin Daren return, he grinned obsequiously and said: “As expected of Qin Daren’s prowess! No matter how cunning this brat is, he is no match for you.”
Qin Daren frowned. “Ying Fei, are you praising me or mocking me?”
Ying Fei hurriedly explained with deference: “How could I dare? Daren is an elite of the Divine Cult, while I am merely dust in comparison. I only have admiration and reverence—how could I have any other thoughts? But, about the cauldron…”
Qin Daren glanced at the lifeless Zhang Xiaohua in his grasp and said: “I have no idea which sect this brat belongs to. Oh, right, I haven’t even asked for his name yet.”
Zhang Xiaohua opened his mouth, but how could he utter a single word? Qin Daren’s profound internal force had sealed even his ability to speak.
Yet, Qin Daren didn’t seem to care about his name. He continued: “This brat has a tight mouth, and I can’t discern his martial origins either. If it were anything else, it wouldn’t matter. If we couldn’t find it, we’d just kill him with a single palm strike and be done with it. But this cauldron is something personally designated by the Sect Master—we have to give him an explanation.”
