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

Xu Jiande did not go inside the house; he just stood outside in the yard.

The moment the resentment left his body, Xu Jiande felt as if his body had been hollowed out.

It's not a metaphor; it literally means that it's been hollowed out.

The vortex in his dantian shrank by a whole circle, and the dark red core at the center of the vortex became dull and lifeless. His legs felt as heavy as lead, and he almost couldn't hold on as he leaned against the wall.

He gritted his teeth to steady himself, pouring all the remaining demonic energy into his palm to maintain the shape of that invisible resentment.

The resentment condensed into a snake in the room. It had no color, no shape, and didn't even disturb the air.

But it really exists.

Soon, it wrapped around the nape of the neck of the Japanese soldier who was committing violence, slowly pouring its cold resentment into his pores.

The Japanese soldier suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

A chill seeped from the very bones, as if someone had pierced his tailbone with an ice pick and pushed it up his spine.

The Japanese soldier shivered, his body trembling uncontrollably, and the lust that had just excited him was instantly extinguished.

He felt inexplicably afraid, a fear that surged up from the depths of his heart without any reason, as if a pair of eyes were staring at him in the darkness.

It felt like something was standing behind him, breathing against the back of his neck.

The Japanese soldier suddenly turned around, but there was nothing behind him.

There were only mottled walls and a tightly closed window. He shook his head, thinking he was probably drunk, but the chill didn't subside; instead, it grew stronger.

The trembling started in his fingers and his jaw began to chatter, spreading from the back of his neck to his entire back and then to his limbs.

The Japanese soldier mechanically stood up and began to put on his clothes.

His movements were stiff, his fingers wouldn't obey him, and he couldn't button the buttons even after several attempts.

The weeping woman was stunned, but thought it was a good thing.

The Japanese soldier, his eyes glazed over, fastened the last button, pushed open the door, and walked into the alley.

The chill intensified the moment he stepped out of the courtyard gate, like an invisible leech clinging to his neck, tightening its grip.

He started to have trouble breathing.

The suffocating feeling of being choked, coupled with the spasm of the airway itself, causes the muscles in the trachea to contract uncontrollably, gradually blocking the airflow.

He grabbed his throat with both hands, his fingernails digging into his flesh, leaving bloody scratches.

He opened his mouth wide, trying to breathe, but the air seemed to be blocked in his throat by something, and he couldn't get any in.

The lips began to turn purple, the eyeballs bulged outwards, and the corners of the eyes became bloodshot and red due to lack of oxygen.

At this moment, the Japanese soldier leaned against the wall, his hands gripping his own neck, his face contorted as if he had seen something extremely terrifying.

His eyes then became unfocused, his pupils dilated, and he began to foam at the mouth, the foam dripping down his chin and onto his collar.

Not far away, Xu Jiande leaned against the wall on the other side.

His condition was no better than that of the Japanese soldier; his fingers were trembling slightly, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and the back of his clothes was soaked with sweat.

This method of using demonic energy and resentment to kill people is extremely taxing on one's energy and spirit; it's even more tiring than killing a hundred people.

The demonic energy in his dantian was almost completely drained, leaving only a faint dark red core at the center of the vortex, which was barely supporting the circulation of qi.

But he didn't stop.

He was waiting for that Japanese soldier to die completely.

Finally, a minute later, the Japanese soldier's body convulsed violently, then went limp as if his bones had been removed, sliding down the wall to the ground. (Hand)

He loosened his grip on his throat, and blood was still seeping from the scratches he had made on his neck.

His mouth was still open, his lips had turned a deep purple, white foam was dripping from the corners of his mouth, his eyes were open, and his pupils were completely dilated.

This person is dead.

A warm, life-giving energy surged from the Japanese soldier's corpse, flowing back along with the lingering resentment in the air, entering Xu Jiande's palm, and converging into his dantian along his meridians.

This vitality was just as intense, just as warm, and perhaps even more so than the one Xu Jiande absorbed when he killed the Japanese soldiers with his bayonet.

Xu Jiande felt the vortex of energy in his dantian rapidly recovering under the nourishment of this vitality. Although it was far from fully replenishing the energy he had just lost, it at least allowed him to stand firm.

"Sir?" Xu Jiande wiped the sweat from his forehead, quickly walked forward, squatted down next to the corpse, and reached out to check its breath.

Then he abruptly withdrew his hand, feigning a terrified expression, "Something terrible has happened! The Japanese officer is in trouble!"

Xu Jiande stood up, took out a whistle from his pocket, and blew it loudly. The sharp whistle echoed through the alley, and soon a group of Japanese soldiers and two puppet soldiers ran from the alley entrance.

The team leader, a squad leader with a sword at his waist, strode over to the body, squatted down, glanced at it, then looked up at Xu Jiande and asked, "What happened?"

Xu Jiande's face was still covered in cold sweat, and his voice was filled with obvious fear: "Sir, when I got here, I saw this sir lying on the ground. I went over to check on her, and suddenly I felt a chill all over my body. It was terrifying."

As he said this, he subconsciously rubbed his arms, as if trying to rub away the "coldness".

The squad leader glanced at him, asked no further questions, and squatted down to begin examining the body.

He pried open the deceased's mouth to examine the tongue and throat, then flipped open the eyelids to look at the pupils. He then unbuttoned the deceased's shirt and put his ear to the heart to listen for a few seconds.

There was nothing there—no heartbeat, no breathing, and no external injuries on the skin except for the bloody scratch on the neck that he had made.

There were no signs of poisoning on his body, no needle marks, no redness or swelling, and no unusual odor.

A living, breathing person died so inexplicably.

Afterwards, the military doctor came and performed first aid, examination, and questioning, but found no cause of death for the Japanese soldier.

This made Xu Jiande very happy; he realized that this was how the Japanese could be wiped out.

Of course, killing the Japanese in this way is too tiring, but its greatest benefit is that it can better refine the resentment.

Xu Jiande, who was in a great mood, was summoned to the command post by the Japanese soldiers and questioned in detail.

"Sir, when I got here, I saw this sir lying on the ground. I went over to check on him, and suddenly I felt a chill run down my spine. It was terrifying."

As he said this, he subconsciously rubbed his arms, as if trying to rub away the "coldness".

The major who was asking the questions glanced at him and continued to question him carefully: when was the body discovered, were there any other people around at the time, did he hear any unusual noises, and why did he smell of blood?

Xu Jiande answered each question, but naturally, he couldn't get any further information out of him.

So the Japanese commended Xu Jiande.

This wasn't just a verbal commendation; they also gave him a silver dollar.

Xu Jiande then left.

In fact, when he was in the command post, Xu Jiande almost wanted to kill all of these Japanese devils.

But in the end, he held back.