Young master, why not become a corpse immortal?

Chapter 267 There are plenty of people who will go
As the sun rises, a thin mist rises over the boundless grassland.

Before the fog had fully settled, a gust of wind suddenly swept in from afar, quietly dispersing it.

Herds of cattle and sheep roamed leisurely across the vast grasslands. In the distance, several tents dotted the landscape, towering like small hills. Inside the largest tent, joyous singing and dancing filled the air, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere.

A wide open space was set aside inside the tent, the ground covered with layers of cow and sheep hides, like a thick carpet. Scantily clad dancers swayed their hips wantonly, eliciting cheers from the men inside the tent.

At the head of the main tent was a seat covered with animal skin, and a man sat astride it.

He was shirtless and barefoot, with animal skin casually draped over his back. His belly was round, resembling a huge leather drum.

His knees and limbs were blackened, and his hands were covered with thick, rock-like grime, emitting a pungent, strange smell.

Before him was a stove with a whole, plucked sheep on it, iron skewers piercing its body, and servants slowly turning the skewers to roast the mutton.

The fat dripped from the mutton into the fire, sizzling and releasing a fragrant aroma.

This seemingly rugged man was focused and careful as he used his knife to cut a freshly roasted piece of meat from the lamb, dipped it in a little salt, and put it in his mouth.

After chewing for a moment, a look of satisfaction spread across his face.

He sighed lazily, feeling extremely comfortable.

Then, he slowly wiped his mouth with a piece of silk.

I wonder where such a meticulous person gets all this filth and grime from.

After taking a few bites, the man put down the knife and let out a deep sigh.

Beside him, a tall man in a thick fur robe poured him a glass of wine, holding a tall, narrow-necked cup, and asked:
"Lord Agula, why are you so worried?"

The chubby Agula took the wine cup, drank a sip, and sighed:
"In the West, there's a bright red plant that, when dried and ground into powder, is sprinkled on meat and tastes absolutely delicious. I once tasted it from a traveling merchant, and it was unforgettable. It's a pity we're too far away there. It's truly a rare treat."

"If we can conquer the northern part of Daxing, we can directly access the western mountain ranges and travel along those trade routes. If we can maintain that, the supply of women will be endless."

After hearing this, Agula snorted coldly:

"Even if we manage to capture Daxing, we'll be in for a tough time. I'm afraid those barbarians will destroy the entire trade route. Humph!"

The barbarians he referred to were the other "battles" under the Khan's command.

On the grasslands, most people are nomadic and do not settle down, so caravans are rare. Tribes often clash with each other with swords and make a living by plundering.

Since our own resources are limited, why not plunder?

Agula has always detested these internal strifes, and due to the resulting exhaustion, he has repeatedly missed opportunities to attack Daxing.

"As long as you become Khan, that's fine."

While his subordinates were flattering him, Agula remained silent.

The old Khan is seriously ill, and the Batel clan all covet the throne.

There were several people among them who were stronger than him, and he had no confidence in himself.

Just then, a short woman walked in from outside the tent. She had a white crescent-shaped headdress on her forehead, slightly brown skin, and an ordinary appearance.

The woman walked slowly to Agula's side and whispered, "My lord, there are two things."

"Judging from your expression, one thing is bad, and the other thing is also bad?"

"One bad thing, but another is not a bad thing."

"Go ahead."

"The bad news is that all the men we sent to Qingniwa are dead."

"Tumen was captured by Dianxing?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm afraid so."

Although the plan failed, Agula showed little displeasure, only nodding slightly.

"Thanks for your hard work."

His face remained expressionless, but those who knew Batel's temperament well understood that he was not in a pleasant mood.

It's just that it hasn't reached the point of erupting yet.

"And the other thing?"

"The informants from General Daxing's mansion have sent word that there is a treasure hidden in Qingniwa, and they wish to present this information to you, sir."

Is this spy trustworthy?

"The江湖客 (jianghu people) in Daxing are probably only interested in their own interests."

“Hmph,” Agula scoffed dismissively, “I’m afraid the treasure is dangerous, and he’s trying to lure us into sending people to scout ahead.”

"In your opinion, sir, shall we go or not?"

Agula thought for a moment, then suddenly clapped his hands and laughed:

"Go, of course we should go! Since they've so sincerely sent this treasure to the grasslands, how can we refuse it?"

"Who should be sent?"

"Who will we send? We won't send a single one." Agula smiled coldly: "Many of my old friends have sent people to Daxing. We only need to let out a whisper, and those fools will be like vultures on the grassland smelling carrion, ready to fight the people of Daxing!"

……

The old man stroked the Three Realms Stele in his palm, his eyebrows twitching almost imperceptibly.

The precious artifact in his hand that conveyed the message was originally a deer skull. Because it was divided into three pieces, the people of Daxing, who liked to be cultured, called it the Three Realms Stele.

Simply write your words on a piece of paper and throw it into a fire to roast. Once the paper has burned to ashes, the treasure will absorb the writing and instantly transport it across thousands of miles to the recipient.

He has informed the grassland envoy of the situation in detail, and now he is only waiting for the arrival of the messenger.

To be honest, even after he finished explaining, his heart was still pounding in his chest.

Logically, he knew that this matter was inappropriate, but he had no other choice.

He was dying, truly at the end of his rope. The medicines and stones offered by wandering doctors could no longer prolong his life; even his arduous cultivation could not withstand the erosion of time.

If this continues, I'm afraid I won't be able to open my eyes the next day.

His son had predeceased him and was now resting in his homeland; his grandson had also died young and was now resting in his hometown; as for his great-grandson, he was already distant from him and did not wish to bother him.

If he dies, even if his body is sent back to his hometown, his great-grandson may not be willing to bury him in the ancestral grave.

Perhaps his great-grandson has long forgotten him.

The thought of closing his eyes in a coffin, surrounded by cold, deathly silence, unable to think any further, his hundred years of cultivation vanishing with the wind, his lonely soul drifting away without a trace, sent a deep, bone-chilling fear surging up within him. It was like a chilling current, penetrating straight to his brain.

The old man couldn't stand it.

Absolutely unacceptable.

He must obtain something, seek the right path, and use the law to illuminate the stars.

The old man stroked the Three Realms Stele in his palm again. Perhaps due to his troubled mind or advanced age, he felt a dryness and tightness in his throat.

He had already left the teahouse and, finding it inconvenient to ask for water, looked around in search of something.

Before long, a gentle river came into view.

He strolled to the riverbank, bent down, scooped up a handful of cool water, and drank it down. His thirst was somewhat relieved, and then he focused his gaze on the water.

The reflection in the water is incredibly clear:

His temples were streaked with frost, his eyes were lined with deep furrows, and his skin was covered with deep brown spots.

This face looks familiar.

The old man vaguely recalled seeing such an elderly person in his youth, but the years had passed and the memory was now blurred.

Just as he was about to get up, he suddenly noticed something strange in the water's reflection.

Behind the reflection, a donkey's head suddenly appeared.

The donkey's head was withered and crooked, its empty eye sockets staring straight at him.

The old man's blood suddenly froze, and he turned around abruptly.

Behind him, however, was nothing but emptiness, with only the desolate wild wind.

Could it be... that my eyes are playing tricks on me?

At that very moment, a deep male voice pierced my eardrums like an ice pick:

"Did you leak Daxing's affairs to the grasslands?"

The old man felt as if he had fallen into an icy abyss.

The old man instinctively tried to flee, but immediately, a cold hand pressed heavily on his shoulder.

"No matter what you do, you should not inform the grasslands of this situation. Those people are hungry wolves, only feeding on flesh and blood. At the slightest sign, they will swarm over."

The sound of flowing water created ripples behind the old man, and Donkey Head quietly emerged from the river.

Completely dry, his tone remained calm and gentle as he whispered:
"How did you learn of this? Did Lady Miyin inform on you?"

"Although the lady is as old as you are, with little time left to live, she knows very well what should be done and what should be avoided, what should be said and what should not be said." Donkey Head said with a hint of regret, "It's a pity you don't understand."

"You vile woman!" the old man hissed, now that he had been captured, how could he possibly surrender and await his death?

He turned around abruptly, pulled a thin thread from his pocket, and threw it fiercely behind him!
The donkey's head remained completely still, allowing the thin thread to pierce its body.

Where the line traced, only a single drop of scarlet remained, and clear liquid seeped from the cut, seemingly without obstruction.

The trees behind the donkey's head were also marked with lines, falling sideways one by one and crashing to the ground, raising towering clouds of dust.

"Transformation Technique!"

The old man stared intently at the donkey's head, a glint of greed flashing in his eyes.

This was exactly the method he had been longing for.

Transform your body into vital energy and extend your life by decades!

So many people can learn it, even someone who can't become a star can learn it, so why can't he?

Why can't he obtain this lifespan?!

The thought had barely crossed his mind when the old man suddenly felt a pain in his shoulder.

A quick glance to the side revealed that the shoulder that had just been touched by the donkey's head had quietly turned charred black.

It was as if all the blood was draining from the flesh.

Intense pain surged into his mind like a tidal wave, so painful that he opened his mouth wide, only a silent wail escaping his throat.

"The chivalrous hero who once killed those who stole his lifespan has unexpectedly ended up like this."

Donkey Head sighed deeply.

Who? Who is he talking about?
As the old man listened, memories from long ago involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

He recalled a long time ago, when he was still full of vigor and ambition, not long after Daxing was established.

The lingering poison of the previous dynasty permeates the entire world.

One day, he passed through a village where children kept disappearing. After a thorough investigation, he discovered that an old man in the village was kidnapping children to prolong his life, stealing their spirits, eating their blood, and boiling their flesh in water, believing that this would grant him longevity.

He killed the old man.

Only then did the old man suddenly realize who the person he had seen in the water was.

The aged face was almost identical to the old man he had killed.

The pain had completely numbed his mind, and the old man finally closed his eyes in despair.

Its entire body turned black, turning into a single piece of charcoal.

With a gentle push from the donkey's head, the charcoal tipped over and crumbled into dust.

He tidied himself up a bit, took a handkerchief from his sleeve, and wiped the dirt off his fingertips.

The General's Mansion's actions are all for the benefit of Daxing. It's acceptable to tolerate its subordinates' evil deeds and to harbor unruly thugs, but if it damages the very foundation of Daxing...

Those who deserve to die should be executed.

Although the old man is dead, the troubles remain.

He has already told the grassland people about it. Knowing the nature of the grassland people, they will surely cause trouble.

So...should we send someone to guard Qingniwa?

Who to send?
Donkey Head suddenly remembered that scholar in the capital.

He seems quite suitable.

(End of this chapter)