Under one person: I, Zhang Zhiwei, the arrogant Zhang.

Yan Yang collapsed to the ground, his conversion talisman shattered, and his fire escape technique rendered useless. Just as he was filled with despair, he suddenly heard the person wearing the nine-tube mask say that he had a connection with the Fire Virtue Sect and that there was still hope of leaving alive.

A glimmer of light flickered in Yan Yang's dim eyes. He glanced at his two junior brothers hanging from the torture rack, and forced himself to ask:
"What...what is your connection with my Fire Virtue Sect?"

"You shameless thing, how dare you ask such a question?"

Zhang Zhiwei didn't answer at all, but instead slapped Yan Yang across the face, making him roll several times on the ground, his cheek burning with pain.

"I'm asking you, how do you write the character '德' in '火德宗'?"

Yan Yang covered his face, staring blankly at the person with the nine-bamboo symbol, somewhat confused about what the other party wanted to do. Surely they didn't really want him to write the character "德" (virtue)?!

Seeing the red-haired brute covering his face, looking as bewildered and hesitant as a wronged wife, Zhang Zhiwei went up and slapped him again, causing him to spit blood, and shouted:
"Illiterate? Can't you even write a single word?"

Yan Yang then realized that what the Nine-Tile Man was talking about was actually writing.

Despite the buzzing in his head, Yan Yang dared not be negligent. Enduring the excruciating pain, he used his finger as a pen to activate the remaining fire energy and write a character on the ground.

He was a man of unrestrained and wild nature, and he was most skilled at writing cursive script. In an instant, a "德" (virtue) character, with its dragon-like strokes and flamboyant style, was formed.

Zhang Zhiwei glanced at it and saw that the handwriting was even worse than his own. He raised his hand and slapped Yan Yang on the back of the head, making him see stars.

“Your morals must be upright. Your handwriting is crooked and messy, like scribbles. No wonder you do such a despicable thing. Rewrite it for me!” Zhang Zhiwei said coldly.

Yan Yang was a little confused, but the situation was beyond his control. He dared not resist, nor did he have the ability to resist. He glanced at his two junior brothers, gritted his teeth, erased the cursive script, and wrote a neat and square "德" (virtue) character in Song typeface.

I just finished writing it, and I haven't even had a chance to catch my breath yet.

"Snapped!"

Another slap landed, this time with even greater force, sending him spinning like a top several times. The sight was so gruesome that his two junior brothers, who were hanging from the torture rack, couldn't bear to look and closed their eyes, tears streaming down their faces.

At this moment, Luo Xinian saw how insignificant the masters of the Huode Sect were in front of Zhang Mazi, who wore a nine-tube mask, and dared not stay any longer, so he turned around and ran away.

Zhang Zhiwei didn't even glance at him. The old beggar was anxious to remind him, but he saw Luo Xinian running around in circles in the yard like a headless fly, unable to get out no matter what he did.

"This is..." The old beggar immediately thought of the phrase "ghost wall" (鬼打墙). Bah, bah, bah, the method used by immortals should be called "divine wall".

When Zhang Zhiwei entered the Luo residence, he disrupted the changes there. Not to mention Luo Xinian, no one in the entire residence could take a single step out. Once they tried to leave, they would be trapped in an endless loop of ghost walls, spinning in circles and never able to get out.

Zhang Zhiwei's attention returned to Yan Yang.

Yan Yang had already fallen to the ground from his spinning top state. The slap had left him completely disoriented, and it took him a while to recover. He raised his swollen face and looked at the Nine of Bamboo in confusion. Hadn't he written a perfectly neat "德" (virtue) character? Why had he still been hit?

"The handwriting is neat, but where is the person?"

Zhang Zhiwei raised his hand, startling Yan Yang into instinctively shrinking back. But this time, the hand didn't fall; instead, it pointed to the gloomy and terrifying torture chamber.

"Since you know how to write the character 'virtue' correctly, how could you do such an immoral thing? Do you even know what this place is for?"

Frightened by the beating, Yan Yang stammered, "I...I don't know the specifics of this place..."

Before he could finish speaking, another slap landed on his face, Zhang Zhiwei's voice suddenly turning fierce:
"Do you know or not?"

Yan Yang's face was swollen like a pig's head, blood gushing from his mouth and nose. In fear, he finally changed his words: "I...I know a little! But not much. I only know that it's the place where Rossinian handles vigilante justice..."

"Snapped!"

Another slap landed, causing blood to seep from the swollen area on his face.

"Knowing this, why did you come to guard the area? Is your Huode Sect so short of money? You're willing to make this kind of shameless money?" Zhang Zhiwei demanded.

Yan Yang was extremely frustrated, but dared not argue any further and could only remain silent.

Even if you don't say anything, you'll still get a slap!
"Snapped!"

Another slap landed. The previous slap was loud and clear, but this one was dull and muffled. Blood spurted from Yan Yang's face, and he was almost unrecognizable.

The two junior disciples in the torture chamber dared not look any longer. They closed their eyes, their faces filled with pain, and tears streamed down their faces.

They knew their senior brother's character; he would never have suffered such humiliation. If it weren't for them, he might have already committed suicide on the spot.

"Speak! Are you mute?"

Yan Yang was nearly driven to despair by the beating, and mumbled, "It was...it was the sect elders' decision! I...I'm just a nobody..."

The answer will also be randomly selected.

"Snapped!"

Zhang Zhiwei slapped him, interrupting him, and questioned him:

"Is the elder your father? You can't refuse anything he says? Let me ask you, did Fengping do such a thing?"

Yan Yang's head was buzzing from the slap, and he subconsciously answered, "No... Junior Brother Fengping didn't..."

Even if you answer incorrectly, you'll get randomly selected.

"Snapped!"

Another slap landed on his face as Zhang Zhiwei pressed him for answers:

"Fengping didn't come, so why did you?"

Yes...yes...why did I come, why did I come...

Why me of all people? Is it because I'm easily swayed? Or is it because deep down, I didn't really take these "mundane matters" to heart?
Yan Yang was unable to answer this question for a moment.

Zhang Zhiwei slapped Yan Yang several more times, leaving him dizzy and on the verge of a breakdown. As he slapped him, he coldly said:
"Because you are too self-righteous, your powerful strength has blinded you, making you lose your empathy and begin to ignore the suffering of ordinary people. In the end, it is because you lack the most basic reverence for life."

With his conversion talisman destroyed and his cultivation greatly diminished, coupled with repeated physical humiliation and mental torture, this core disciple of the Fire Virtue Sect could no longer bear it. He pleaded tearfully, on the verge of collapse.

In the midst of this extreme pain, Yan Yang began to glimpse his own heart. He seemed to see that beneath his fiery exterior lay a cold heart, a stark contrast between hot and cold, a discrepancy between appearance and reality.

"Ah!!" He looked up at the sky and cried out, as if to vent all his regret and confusion.

Even if you cry, you'll get a slap!
"Snapped!"

Zhang Zhiwei covered his mouth with a palm: "A cultivator can't even withstand this little bit of pressure? The pain you feel is nothing compared to what you've experienced. Come on, I'll let you feel the pain properly and understand what real pain is."

After saying that, Zhang Zhiwei picked up the limp Yan Yang and threw him onto the blood-stained iron chair. He pressed one hand on Yan Yang's head, and a faint blue light emanated from his palm as he began to use the Blue Hand technique.

The Blue Hand can be used on both the living and the dead. It can absorb the spiritual energy left behind by the dead and thus obtain some information.

For example, in the story, Lü Liang dug up Zhang Huaiyi's corpse in order to obtain the secret of the Qi source flow from the body. The stronger the emotions at the time of death, the deeper the remaining spirituality. Resentment and pain are often the strongest emotions, so the probability of a vengeful ghost being born is higher than that of a benevolent ghost.

In this torture chamber, how many people have died in despair and pain, their families destroyed and their lives ruined?
Although the bodies of these people have been removed, their lingering spirits remain deeply imprinted here, containing the deepest pain and resentment of the deceased.

Zhang Zhiwei used his blue hand to pour all the endless pain accumulated in this torture chamber into Yan Yang's soul.

"Ughhhhh...!"

He stopped physically torturing Yan Yang, but Yan Yang let out a shrill scream that was not human.

In that instant, he felt as if he had become one of those tenants bound to the rack, experiencing the excruciating pain of the branding iron scorching his flesh, the cracking sound of the clamps crushing his finger bones, the tearing sensation of the whip lashing through his flesh, and the overwhelming hatred of his loved ones being driven to their deaths...

There's a saying that goes, "You can never truly understand a person unless you put on their shoes and walk around in them, and try to see things from their perspective."

At this moment, Yan Yang completely stood on the side of those farmers and tenants, and he felt their pain deeply.

He always considered himself a spiritual practitioner with a high level of meditative skill, and considered the joys and sorrows of ordinary people to be childish and laughable.

But when he finally realized it, he discovered how ridiculous and fragile he was.

What he is feeling now is not the whole picture, but merely the bewilderment and cries of these people before their deaths.

These pains overwhelmed him like a tidal wave; this spiritual impact was a hundred times more intense than physical pain.

His soul became numb in this pain, and in that numbness he gained a brief moment of peace, which allowed him to think about some things properly.

…………

…………

A moment later, Zhang Zhiwei removed the blue hand. Yan Yang slumped on the tiger bench, his eyes glazed over, his whole body drenched in cold sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of the water. But gradually, his glazed eyes began to focus.

He struggled to open his eyes, which were swollen to a slit, glanced at the Nine-Card Man in front of him, then at the old beggar, Rossiniang, who was circling not far away, his eyes filled with tears and his teeth clenched, before finally returning his gaze to the hellish torture chamber.

At this moment, he felt a clarity and tranquility he had never experienced before. There was great terror between life and death. Just now, he had not only experienced his own life and death, but also the life and death of many others. He had gained many insights.

"Now, do you understand how to write the character '德' in '火德宗'?" Zhang Zhiwei asked again, his voice calm yet penetrating.

Yan Yang nodded slowly, his swollen face showing shame and determination: "It is my fault for being so immoral... that I actually aided and abetted evil, protecting such beasts."

He flipped off the iron chair and knelt down, not to Zhang Zhiwei, but facing the torture chamber, and kowtowed heavily, his forehead pressed against the cold, bloody ground for a long time without lifting it.

“Now that you know how to write the character ‘德’ (virtue), you must put that knowledge into practice. Do you know how to do that?” Zhang Zhiwei asked.

Yan Yang said, "Thank you for your teachings, senior. I understand."

"What are you planning to do?" Zhang Zhiwei asked with interest.

Yan Yang raised his head, his eyes resolute: "Thank you for your guidance, senior! Yan Yang understands. A life for a life, a debt for a debt! I will settle accounts with the Luo family for their sins and return everything that Luo Xinian has taken by trickery to its rightful owner!"

“What if those people are already dead?” Zhang Zhiwei asked.

"Then return them to their relatives. If they don't have relatives, then distribute them to those who need them!" Yan Yang said in a deep voice.

"Okay, then you go do it. I hope you can do it!" Zhang Zhiwei nodded.

Yan Yang bowed deeply to Zhang Zhiwei. Although his conversion talisman was crushed by the Nine-Bamboo Man in front of him, some things may turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

Then, he stood up and glanced at his two junior brothers who were hanging on the torture rack.

With a wave of his hand, Zhang Zhiwei caused the severed Qi within the two Huode Sect disciples to begin circulating again. The two jumped off the torture instruments and quickly came to Yan Yang's side. Looking at Yan Yang's swollen head, they asked him with concern.

After talking with his fellow disciples for a while, Yan Yang waved his hand and said:

“Although we did not participate in some things, we stood behind Luo Xinian and were undoubtedly accomplices in his evil deeds.”

He looked at Rossini and said, "I will personally end this wicked thing."

Yan Yang gradually walked towards Rossini, who was trapped in a maze.

With a thought, Zhang Zhiwei broke the spell that had trapped Luo Xinian.

Luo Xinian had just emerged from the ghost wall when Yan Yang's swollen face appeared right in front of him!
"Master Yan, what's going on? Why have I been spinning around in circles? Where is Zhang Mazi with the Nine-Tube Mask? And what happened to your face...?"

His response was a flaming fist from the blazing sun.

Luo Xinian sensed something was wrong and stammered, "No...no! Master Yan! I give so much money to the Huode Sect every year..."

"That money is stained with blood, and I will make the sect return it!"

Yan Yang roared, his fist like a hammer, slamming into Luo Xinian's face. The sound of bones cracking was clearly audible, and Luo Xinian swallowed the rest of his words.

Yan Yang pulled out his blood-stained fist, and flames erupted from it, engulfing Rossinian's head completely.

thump!
Rossini collapsed to his knees, motionless on the ground, with flames burning fiercely on his neck; it was clear he was not going to survive.

Yan Yang stopped looking at Luo Xinian, walked out of the room, turned around and left, beginning to settle accounts with the remaining members of the Luo family.

The old beggar stared blankly at this scene. He couldn't understand the affairs of the supernatural world; he only knew that Rossiniang was dead.

He staggered to Rossini's body, watching the flames burn Rossini's head to ashes before slowly extinguishing, leaving only a headless corpse at the scene.

He just stared at the headless corpse, without cursing or whipping it, simply standing there quietly, his eyes filled with a complex mix of relief and emptiness.

Zhang Zhiwei did not disturb them. Everything in the mansion was under his control, and he was watching Yan Yang and the others' behavior.

Yan Yang toured the entire Luo mansion, killing all those who deserved to die, before returning to the torture chamber.

The old beggar was still staring blankly at Rossini's headless corpse.

Yan Yang walked over to Zhang Zhiwei, his voice hoarse but firm: "Senior, the culprit has been executed, and the accomplices have been eliminated."

Zhang Zhiwei nodded: "What are your plans next?"

Yan Yang said, "I intend to uphold justice here, spread the word, convene a land redistribution meeting, and invite neighbors from all directions to come and return all the land that Luo Xinian had seized to the aggrieved parties."

"Okay, I'll let you divide it up. After you've divided it up, I'll come back to collect the IOU from before!"

Zhang Zhiwei's figure gradually faded, as if merging into the air and disappearing. (End of Chapter)