Chapter 23: The Wicked One

A few moments later, Li Mu and his companion arrived at the ruined village.

Scattered limbs lay about; the ground was soaked with dried blood. Broken tiles and pots littered every corner, and within the abandoned structures not a trace of life could be found.

The scene was hauntingly familiar. Li Mu shook his head in silence, but in Li Mie’s eyes, it was as if everything had been dyed red with blood.

“Here?” Li Mu searched the village.

Li Mie nodded. “Four days ago, the bandits passed through this place. They moved slowly, heading north, robbing travelers along the road.”

“Hmm,” Li Mu turned and strode toward the outskirts of the village. “Bandits can cover about fifteen kilometers in a day. There’s no need to hurry. Let’s restore our energy before we move on.”

Li Mie said little, swallowing a pill to aid his recovery, and immediately sat cross-legged on the ground. He could barely keep going; though his talent was greater, his energy reserves much larger than Li Mu’s, his true power was less refined and harder to control, so he exhausted himself more quickly.

After a brief rest, both rose almost simultaneously, exchanged a glance, and dashed northward together.

After barely thirty kilometers, a long plume of smoke rose ahead, visible from several miles away.

The thick smoke carried a strong scent of blood.

Li Mu whispered, “It must be ahead. There’s an old village there.”

Li Mie asked, then shot forward like an arrow.

They arrived within moments, and were met with a scene of savagery.

The village was devastated. Burned houses had collapsed everywhere. Dozens of bandits prowled the ruins, their faces twisted and their bloodied spears in hand. Villagers writhed on the blood-soaked earth, cries echoing without end.

Li Mie’s eyes turned crimson. “Courting death!”

In his gaze, he seemed to see the little Creek Village from months past, unable to suppress his emotions.

His green blade flashed, swift as a breeze, flying toward a mounted bandit.

Li Mu did not follow. His gaze was fixed on a small house at the back of the village. There, a gray-robed cultivator stood, his hands stained with blood. Before him lay two young men, pale and shriveled, drained of every drop of blood, their faces twisted in terror. They had died from having their blood completely drained.

“So this is the evil one? Truly cruel.”

Li Mu moved, circling around to approach the evil cultivator from behind.

When he was less than ten meters away, the evil one suddenly turned, grinning hideously, his blood