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

The butt of the gun slammed into He Daqing's back with a dull thud, like a wooden stick hitting a sack of flesh.

He Daqing cried out "Ah!" and swayed to the side, his knee hitting the bluestone slab, his face contorted in pain.

Liu screamed, and He Yuzhu in her arms was so frightened that he cried. His wailing echoed in the courtyard, sharp and shrill.

He Daqing lay on the ground, one hand supporting himself on the ground, the other hand covering his back, unable to get up for a long time.

The Japanese soldier glanced down at him, expressionless, as if looking at a stray dog ​​blocking his way.

Then he turned around and walked back into the queue.

Wang Xiaoyong didn't even glance at He Daqing. He turned around, bowed to the sergeant, and put on a smile again.

"Sir, there might still be people who haven't come out yet. Should we search them?"

The sergeant glanced coldly at the residents in the courtyard, snorted, and gestured to the Japanese soldiers behind him.

Five or six Japanese soldiers, bayonets at the ready, rushed into the houses in different directions.

Then came a series of crackling sounds.

The sounds of wooden doors being kicked open, cabinets being overturned, pots and pans clattering on the ground, were mixed with the gibberish shouts of Japanese soldiers.

Yi Zhonghai stood in the crowd, his fingers rubbing rapidly along the hem of his trousers, his eyes constantly glancing towards his own house.

Liu Haizhong hunched his neck and bent his waist even lower, as if he wanted to shrink himself into the ground.

In no time, the Japanese soldiers dragged three people out of the woodshed in the backyard.

An elderly man in his sixties, with gray hair and wearing a gray cloth jacket with several patches, was dragged out by the collar by Japanese soldiers.

The other two were young people, around twenty years old; one was tall and thin, and the other was a short and stocky young man.

They are all old acquaintances and neighbors from the courtyard house.

The three people were pushed to the middle of the courtyard, facing a group of people.

They all seemed very frightened.

One of the young men, named Black Tiger, wet his pants.

The sergeant slowly walked up to the three men, glanced at them, and looked at them as if they were three animals.

He turned around and said something in Japanese to the three Japanese soldiers behind him.

His voice was flat, his tone similar to ordering food at a restaurant.

The three Japanese soldiers responded and simultaneously raised their rifles. Their bayonets gleamed coldly in the morning light, their tips aimed at the three men.

The old man collapsed to the ground, his cloudy eyes filled with despair, his lips moving as if he were reciting something.

The tall, thin man struggled violently, shouting, "No, don't kill me!"

Before he could finish speaking, the Japanese soldier's bayonet had already plunged into his stomach.

His voice stopped abruptly. His mouth was still open, but he couldn't make a sound. Only blood gushed from his mouth and flowed down his chin.

The short, stocky man didn't make a sound. When the bayonet went in, his whole body tensed up suddenly, then slowly went limp, like a piece of wood with its core removed.

The old man was stabbed through the chest with a bayonet, his body curled up in a ball, and more and more blood was seeping out from under him.

The whole process took only a dozen seconds.

A strong, pungent smell of blood filled the courtyard, mingling with the cold morning air and seeping into everyone's nostrils.

Someone bent over and vomited.

It was Yan Bugui. He took off his glasses, squatted on the ground, and vomited, shivering all over.

Liu pressed He Yuzhu's face against her chest, not letting the silly boy see it, but her own face was already as white as a dead person.

Most of the others started vomiting.

Others felt very uncomfortable.

This is truly the first time I've ever witnessed murder.

He Daqing lay on the ground, his back still aching, but he dared not move. He just lay there, his body trembling uncontrollably.

He thought to himself, "I hope I'm not so unlucky as to be killed by the Japanese devils."

Xu Jiande stood in the crowd, his hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms, leaving red marks.

His eyes were fixed on the three corpses on the ground, and on the three pools of blood that were growing larger and larger.

This wasn't just ordinary anger.

These beasts. Just because these three people didn't arrive in time, they didn't even ask them a question, they just stabbed them to death.

In their eyes, killing a Great Xia person was no different from stepping on an ant.

Of course, he knew that the Japanese were doing this to make an example of them.

Even so, as he stood there, a law-abiding citizen in the courtyard, watching three unarmed neighbors being stabbed to death in public, he felt an emotion deeper than hatred.

And humiliation.

These Japanese devils were slaughtering his compatriots like livestock on his land, right in front of his house. And he could only stand by and watch, unable to do anything.

But he couldn't make a move.

There were seven or eight fully armed Japanese soldiers in the courtyard. In his current state, he was no match for them in broad daylight. Moreover, even if he killed these Japanese soldiers, he would also implicate his neighbors in the courtyard.

So we can only endure it.

Xu Jiande gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks twitching.

He forced himself to look away from the three corpses, lowered his head, and stared at the bluestone slab at his feet, the veins on the back of his hands bulging. Then he couldn't help but memorize the faces of these Japanese soldiers and puppet troops, preparing to find an opportunity to kill them as soon as possible.

Just then, he felt a faint warmth.

It was very faint. If he hadn't already developed a basic awareness of the demonic energy within his body, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.

The warmth seemed to seep in from the air, entering the body through the pores and then flowing along the meridians to the dantian.

The quantity was extremely small, pitifully small, like trying to warm a small charcoal stove far away in winter; you could barely feel the heat before it dissipated in the wind.

Xu Jiande was stunned for a moment, then realized that the warmth was coming from the three people who had just died.

It was blood and vital energy. It was the life force that those three people lost before they died.

But the amount was far too small. Compared to the life force gained from personally killing Japanese soldiers, it was less than one-tenth, perhaps even only one-twentieth.

He killed six Japanese soldiers; it felt like being filled with a large bowl of hot soup.

The fact that these three people died in front of him felt like someone had dipped their hand in hot soup and splashed it on his face.

He didn't understand what was going on. Why could the dead Japanese soldiers absorb so much life force, while the dead Chinese could only absorb so little?

Is it because he didn't kill these three people with his own hands?

Or is it because the demonic power absorbs life force according to some rule he is unaware of?

Or perhaps, all dead people will lose their life force, but the Japanese are enemies to him, while he can only absorb a very small amount from his compatriots.

Now that the Blood Ancestor is in a deep sleep, no one can answer him.

Xu Jiande took a deep breath and pressed the faint warmth into his dantian.

Regardless, this is a good thing, as it can increase our strength.

At this moment, the blood gradually congealed, and the stench of blood seeped into everyone's nostrils.

At the same time, flies slowly flew over.

Wang Xiaoyong stood beside the three corpses, not even glancing at them, and put his hands on his hips again, his expression even more arrogant than before.

It's as if those three people deserved to die, and being killed by the Japanese was an honor.

"You all saw that, didn't you?" His voice echoed in the courtyard. "This is what happens when you don't cooperate! From now on, whatever the officer orders you to do, do it. If he tells you to come out, come out. Otherwise, these three will be your role models!"

No one speaks.

The courtyard was so quiet that only the occasional gunshots from afar could be heard.

Wang Xiaoyong stood beside the three corpses, not even glancing at them, as if the people lying on the ground were not his own compatriots.

He put his hands back on his hips, his expression even more arrogant than before.

"Listen up, neighbors! The Imperial Army is entering the city to help us live a better life, for the sake of shared prosperity! But some resistance fighters are ungrateful and are still stubbornly resisting, opposing the Imperial Army! These people must die!"

He paused, pointed to the three corpses on the ground with his finger, and emphasized again, "This is what happens!"