The Little Demonic Cultivator in the Courtyard: Borrowing 100,000 Japanese Pirates to Heal

At this moment, Sasaki was dressed in a crisp general's uniform, the sword at his waist swaying with each step, and his leather boots making a crisp clicking sound on the bluestone slabs.

Two junior officers followed behind him; the one on the left was carrying a folder, and the one on the right had a Nambu Type 14 pistol tucked into his waistband.

Sasaki walked up to the execution platform, sat down in the middle chair, took off his white gloves and placed them on his knees, his gaze sweeping over the dark mass of people below.

Before him, the first batch of five hundred courtyard administrators had killed one hundred of their own comrades. Sasaki then said, "Let's continue."

This guy spoke in a tone as calmly as if he were ordering the kitchen to serve food, rather than giving a death order.

The interpreter used a tin megaphone to relay the orders.

The courtyard administrator in charge of the executions was called out one by one from the ranks by the Japanese soldiers. Seeing the blood all over the ground, some of them went weak in the knees and had to be supported by their comrades.

It's too cruel, too terrifying.

"What are you all standing there for?" The interpreter's voice echoed across the square. "Let's begin!"

Then came more screams.

Sasaki Maki was very dissatisfied with the hellish Jiaochangkou.

Because no one dared to cause trouble, all that preparation was wasted.

pity.

Meanwhile, Xu Jiande and the others returned from the training base, and it was almost dark.

There was no one in the courtyard. All the doors of the houses were tightly shut.

Thin wisps of white smoke were rising from He Daqing's chimney; it was unclear what he was cooking.

Bai Ling heard the door open and came out of the bedroom.

She glanced at Xu Jiande, appearing very calm, and said, "There's still porridge in the pot."

When Xu Jiande returned home, he took off the dark blue short jacket with the word "pipe" printed on it, crumpled it up, and tucked it under his arm.

Bai Ling was puzzled and asked what it was. Xu Jiande briefly explained the day's events, from Jiaochangkou to the subsequent training, without hiding anything. Of course, he absolutely couldn't mention the details of his surprise attack later on.

Upon hearing this, Bai Ling almost vomited.

This is something I can't stand just hearing about.

Human tragedy, hell on earth.

Xu Jiande, however, was alright and started eating porridge and cornbread.

After finishing his meal, Xu Jiande placed the bowl on the stove, walked to the water vat, scooped out half a ladle of cold water, and poured it over his head.

The cool water flowed down my hair and neck, washing away most of the dust and blood residue on my face.

He scooped up another ladleful and poured it over his back again. The water streamed down his back, soaking his undershirt.

Bai Ling stood at the kitchen door looking at him, her lips moved but she didn't say anything.

She knew that Xu Jiande didn't need comfort right now.

Comfort is the most useless thing in occupied territory.

It can't be eaten, it can't be used as bullets, and it can't even make people feel a little better.

Xu Jiande put the water ladle back on the edge of the water tank and wiped the water droplets off his face with his sleeve.

He stood by the stove for a moment, then spoke, his voice calm, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

"I estimate that many more compatriots will die in Caishikou in the next few days."

Bai Ling's fingers tightened on the door frame for a moment, and she said, "Then you absolutely must not go over there."

Xu Jiande nodded.

He knew, of course, that it was right for him not to go.

He's a demonic cultivator, not a fool.

Some battles are worth fighting, while others are simply suicide.

This morning's attack at Caishikou was a classic example of surprise; if we go now, we'll be lying in wait for the enemy.

So he said, "I'm not going out tonight."

Bai Ling was taken aback. This was the first time Xu Jiande had voluntarily said he wouldn't go out at night. Before, he would always go out after dark, always to hunt down Japanese soldiers.

"I won't go out tomorrow. I won't go out the day after tomorrow either," Xu Jiande said. "The Japanese will probably be looking for me like crazy these next few days, and now that they've set up a compound administrator, it's quite troublesome. I've decided to wait and see before making a move."

Bai Ling nodded.

Xu Jiande added, "I've recently gained some insights into my state of mind, and I'm preparing to practice some kung fu."

After saying that, he went into the bedroom.

At this moment, Xu Jiande had changed into a clean short jacket, closed his eyes, and began to circulate his demonic energy.

The vortex of energy in his dantian had become even more solid than it had been a few days ago.

Since his transmigration, he has killed no fewer than 250 Japanese soldiers, absorbed a large amount of vital energy and blood, as well as the resentment of the victims at Caishikou.

These energies intertwined and merged in his dantian, alternating between hot and cold, repeatedly tempering his demonic energy like a quenching process.

The resentment of the Stone Mother had long been refined, leaving only a very thin wisp, like black sand settling at the bottom of the water, lying quietly at the very bottom of the dantian.

The resentment absorbed by Caishikou was even greater and more mixed. It hadn't been fully digested yet, and it was blocking the meridians in patches, making the flow of demonic energy somewhat sluggish.

Xu Jiande closed his eyes and focused his consciousness into his dantian.

The demonic energy began to circulate slowly, starting from the dantian, going down along the three yin meridians of the hand, passing through the shoulder, upper arm, and forearm, and converging in the palm.

Then, it travels back along the three Yang meridians of the hand, passing the back of the hand, the outer side of the forearm, and the shoulder, before returning to the Dantian.

Then, starting from the dantian, go down along the three yin meridians of the foot to the soles of the feet, and return along the three yang meridians of the foot. One circle, two circles, three circles.

The operating speed is at least half that of usual.

It's resentment blocking the road.

Those resentful energies were like unmelted lumps of ice, stuck in the thinnest parts of the meridians. When the demonic energy passed by, it had to go around them or forcefully push them away.

Each time you open up a section, the meridians will become a little smoother, but it will hurt when you do it, as if countless fine needles are piercing the gaps in your bones at the same time, causing a persistent soreness.

Xu Jiande neither sped up nor stopped. He just kept running in circles, slowly and steadily grinding away the resentment bit by bit.

This process is slow and tedious, but it is an essential step in his cultivation.

Before he fell into a deep sleep, the Blood Ancestor said that there was no shortcut to cultivating demonic arts. The more people you kill, the more life you gain, and the more resentment you dissolve, the more cultivation you increase.

Every bit of strength is earned with one's life; there are no free lunches.

When the ancestor was alive, he could help guide the demonic energy and explain the techniques, but now he has to figure all of this out on his own.

He remembered the bullet that carried his soul away.

He still can't forget that feeling; it was a sensation that transcended the body.

Consciousness was torn in two; a large part remained inside the body, feeling the coldness of the ground and the distant gunshots, while the other small part attached to the bullet, piercing through the air, through the skin, and through the skull.

The bullet pierced the sniper's head, and he could even feel the heat of the enemy's brains exploding around the trajectory of the bullet.

What exactly is that state? Is it a special skill triggered by the second level of Qi Refining, or an instinctive reaction when a demonic art encounters its own kind?

He tried twice, but failed both times.

The soul wasn't pulled out; it was just a regular gunshot.

Perhaps specific conditions are required, or perhaps my skills are insufficient.

Xu Jiande suppressed these distracting thoughts.

Thinking about these things now is useless; he'll naturally understand when he encounters them again. He refocused his attention on the demonic energy in his meridians, continuing to grind away the resentment in circles.

At this moment, Bai Ling came over, knocked on the door and said, "Second Aunt is here."

Xu Jiande felt that the second aunt was asking about Liu Haizhong.