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

Xu Jiande frowned and said, "Don't talk nonsense in the middle of the night. What ghosts and ghosts? Go back to sleep."

Madam Jia wanted to say something, but she opened her mouth and then closed it again.

Ever since she was slapped by Xu Jiande, she has never dared to act out in front of him again.

Now that Xu Jiande said that, she felt a chill run down her spine.

She got up from the ground, pulled Jia Dongxu into the house, and only when they reached the door did she mutter softly, "It really is, why don't you all believe me..."

Then he slammed the door shut.

After a while, everyone dispersed, and Xu Jiande and Bai Ling went inside as well.

Bai Ling was a little worried and asked if Jia Zhangshi had seen something. Xu Jiande said it was nothing, and that no one could see anything at night.

However, Bai Ling's words gave Xu Jiande an idea: since Jia Zhangshi had seen ghosts, he should let her see them more often in the future.

The two chatted for a while longer, after which Xu Jiande sat down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.

The vortex of energy in his dantian was still slowly rotating, and it was a full circle larger than before.

At the center of the cyclone, an extremely thin, dark red core appeared, like a red-hot iron bead. The surrounding demonic energy swirled around it, and the closer to the core, the faster the rotation.

He could feel the demonic energy in his body stabilizing, no longer needing to be deliberately suppressed, and the demonic energy no longer running rampant.

Having reached the third level of Qi Refining, I can now consider myself firmly established.

He leaned against the headboard and let out a long sigh.

Since his transmigration to the present, starting with killing three Japanese soldiers at Lugou Bridge, and continuing tonight after breaking through to the third level of Qi Refining, he has killed over four hundred Japanese soldiers.

Of course, the current state of affairs was achieved at the cost of the lives of three hundred Japanese soldiers. This also involved the resentment of many ordinary Chinese people and resistance fighters, which is very important.

However, it is still far from the 100,000 that the Blood Ancestor mentioned.

……

Sasaki called Lou Bancheng away again on a drizzly afternoon.

Lou Bancheng was taken out of his home by two Japanese soldiers and put into the back seat of the black car.

The street scene outside the car window was blurred into a gray blur by the rain and mist. Occasionally, you could see a few pedestrians hurrying past, hugging the wall, heads down and shoulders hunched, as if afraid of getting wet in the rain or being seen by others.

This was the second time Lou Bancheng had been summoned before Sasaki Maki.

The car didn't go to the usual command post, but instead turned towards Caishikou.

When Lou Bancheng saw the row of bombed walls flashing past the car window, cold sweat began to break out on his back, his fingers curled uncontrollably on his knees, and his nails dug into his palms.

The square has been cleaned up, but the bloodstains on the bluestone slabs cannot be washed away by water.

Those dark brown marks stretched from the center of the square to the edge, some in long strips, others in large, irregular water stains.

Rainwater splashes on it, creating tiny, transparent droplets.

The blood on the ground had long since congealed, but because it hadn't been washed off, the color was still there, making it exceptionally disgusting.

And fear.

Three bodies were hanging from the flagpole.

After being soaked in the rain, the skin turned an unnatural grayish-white color. The hemp rope was tightly wrapped around the ankles, digging deep into the flesh and creating deep purplish-black grooves in the skin.

The hair of the deceased was wet from the rain and stuck to their faces, making it impossible to see their features. However, the floral shirt worn by the body on the far left could still be vaguely identified as originally belonging to a young woman.

Lou Bancheng stood at the edge of the square, his legs trembling uncontrollably, and he almost knelt down.

The Japanese soldiers behind him gave him a push, signaling him to move forward and keep watching.

At the far end of the square was a row of racks, with dried flesh and blood still clinging to them.

Next to the rack was a large wooden barrel, half-filled with a dark red liquid. Rainwater dripping into it created pale red ripples.

"Mr. Lou," Sasaki's voice came from behind, his tone as calm as a casual conversation in a tea room, "Look at these people, they're all resistance fighters. In the eyes of the Imperial Army, resistance fighters only have one fate: death."

Lou Bancheng was speechless.

It felt like something was blocking his throat; his lips moved, but he could only manage a muffled breath.

"But the merchants' non-cooperation is resistance." Sasaki walked to his side and stood next to him, also looking up at the three bodies on the flagpole, his tone even carrying a hint of casual ease.

"Businessmen should be smarter. Don't think that pretending to cooperate is the same as working together." He paused, looked at Lou Bancheng, and had a chilling smile on his face. "Mr. Lou, you are very smart. You should understand this principle better than they do."

Lou Bancheng's back was soaked with cold sweat.

He lowered his head, looking at the rain-soaked flagstones at his feet, and said in a trembling voice, "What the Imperial Army said is true, I understand, I understand."

Sasaki nodded in satisfaction and turned to walk back.

Lou Bancheng followed behind, his steps unsteady, and he almost slipped on the bluestone slabs at the edge of the square.

Back at the command post, Sasa Maki didn't offer Lou Bancheng a seat, but instead took out a document and placed it on the table.

The cover of the document reads "Articles of Association of the Business Cooperation Association," and below it is a list of all the prominent chambers of commerce members and entrepreneurs in Beijing.

Lou Bancheng's name was listed first.

Sasaki Maki said, "Mr. Lou, the Imperial Army needs someone who can represent the business community of Beijing to lead the organization of this cooperative association."

The cooperative association has three tasks: to raise funds for the Imperial Army, to procure supplies for the Imperial Army, and to manage the workers in all the factories on behalf of the Imperial Army. You will be the chairman of this association.

Sasaki Maki's tone suggested that this wasn't a request for opinions, but rather a notification.

Lou Bancheng stood there, his hands clenched into fists inside his sleeves, his nails digging into his palms and leaving several bloody marks.

He lowered his head and said that it was an honor for me to be trusted by the Imperial Army, and that I would definitely do my best.

Sasaki stood up from his chair, walked over to Lou Bancheng, patted him on the shoulder, and said with a smile, "Mr. Lou, you certainly know how to read the situation. Do a good job, and the Imperial Army won't treat you unfairly. But if you don't..."

He paused, glancing out the window towards the square, his meaning clear.

"..." Lou Bancheng.

When Lou Bancheng came out of the command post, the rain had stopped.

The sky was still overcast, with low-hanging, gray clouds making the weather very muggy.

After all, it's July now, it's summer.

He got into the back seat of the black sedan, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

The driver asked him where he was going, and he said home.

The car drove through the rain-soaked streets, its wheels splashing water as they churned over the cobblestones.

Bancheng sat in the back seat with his hands on his knees, his right hand still trembling slightly.

After returning home, he went into his study alone and closed the door.

On the desk in his study was a set of blue and white porcelain tea set, which he had specially ordered from Jingdezhen. He had used it for more than ten years and only took it out to use when distinguished guests came.

He walked to the table, picked up his most beloved blue and white porcelain teapot, raised it above his head, and smashed it hard on the ground.

The porcelain teapot shattered into dozens of pieces, which bounced up and down on the blue brick floor, their tinkling sounds echoing in the study.

He then grabbed the teacups and smashed them against the wall one by one.

The teacup smashed against the wall and shattered, shards of porcelain scattering all over the floor.

Then came the tea tray, then the pen holder, and then everything else on the table that you could pick up.