Reclaiming Wasteland and Farming: My Haunted Fields Are Spawning Monsters Infinitely

In the darkness of night.

Li Qingshan was all alone.

As Li Qingshan pierced the red dog's brain with the spear, he suddenly realized something.

The red spots on my body haven't faded yet, and if they attract attention, it will inevitably lead to my death.

For safety's sake, I decided to slip away quietly and return to the haunted field as soon as possible.

Da da da.

The soft sound of horses' hooves sounded behind me.

Li Qingshan turned around abruptly, and at the same time, pressed his hand on the hilt of the straight sword.

From the tall grass behind him, a man slowly emerged. He was riding a horse, holding a long black iron spear, and staring coldly at Li Qingshan, like a vulture.

"I've been watching you the whole time," Bald Salt said slowly.

While others were thrown into chaos by Xuan Yi's appearance, Bald Salt remained unaffected, keeping a close eye on the source of the storm.

A good hunter always knows how to observe.

Li Qingshan left quietly, without attracting anyone's attention, but he could never escape the gaze of Bald Salt.

Li Qingshan pushed him back slightly, his hand gripping the hilt of his knife, his expression silent and unwavering: "You're confident all by yourself?"

Bald Salt laughed: "My father taught me how to hunt animals when I was young. All you need to do is tear a small hole in the prey, and it will keep running until it bleeds to death."

"And you, my respected opponent, you killed the sacred beast Xuan Yi and ran wildly for more than ten miles. Do you still have any strength left?" Bald Salt stared at Li Qingshan as if looking at a severely wounded beast that was slowly exhausting its strength and had no strength left to walk.

"Um……"

Li Qingshan remained silent for a while, then slowly reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of beans.

"Hmm?" Bald Salt frowned slightly.

Immediately afterward, Li Qingshan turned and ran, his speed no slower than before.

"You want to leave!"

Bald Salt yanked the reins, spurring his horse into a gallop. He was certain that Li Qingshan was exhausted and wouldn't last much longer, absolutely...

Li Qingshan suddenly turned around, gripped the knife with both hands, and swung it out violently.

The galloping horse crashed almost head-on into the blade, blood splattered out, and both horse and rider fell over.

……

Li Qingshan took a shortcut back to Xiongtian.

The zombie farmhands in the field are still working.

Under the old locust tree, the mourning ghost grinned, pulled a handful of paper money from his pocket, threw it on the ground, and shouted, "Li..."

Li Qingshan quickly tossed a copper coin over, and the mourning ghost immediately shut its mouth, only grinning foolishly.

He walked toward the earthen house and the first thing he saw was a tin barrel blocking the doorway, obstructing his way.

Li Qingshan squeezed through a crack and placed the iron spear he had brought back behind the wooden door.

He usually didn't bring anything home, as it would easily expose his murders, but the barbarian's iron spear was just too handy. In these days, iron tools are quite rare; if he missed this opportunity, he wouldn't have another.

With this iron spear, he no longer needed to carry an iron shovel with him.

Li Qingshan couldn't bear to throw it away, so he brought it back.

"You're back," Old Zhang suddenly spoke from inside the basin.

"This trip was not easy, luckily I ran fast."

"Give me some of your blood?" Old Zhang licked his lips.

"Hmm?" Li Qingshan frowned and thought for a moment. He went to the basin, pulled up the corner of his clothes, and squeezed some blood into it. He had run all the way back from the grassland and was covered in blood, so this piece of clothing was unusable.

Old Zhang took a deep breath, and his face regained some color.

"Not bad, not bad, it even has the blood of a ferocious beast from the grasslands," Old Zhang said.

"A ferocious beast of the grasslands? I think it's called something like Xuan Yi. Sigh..." Li Qingshan slapped his forehead, somewhat annoyed, "I should have brought a basin with me; I could have collected enough blood in one trip."

"Actually... your second layer of poison has already been neutralized."

"When was it untied? Shouldn't it be boiled first?" Li Qingshan asked, puzzled.

"Cooking is just a formality; the key is to let the vital energy in your blood enter your body. I don't know what you went through, but the second layer of poison has indeed been neutralized."

Li Qingshan rolled up his sleeves, and the red spots on his arms had indeed faded considerably, now almost returning to his normal skin color.

He recalled that he was in a state of high tension during the experience, and a lot of wild animal blood was splattered on him. It was probably during this process that he completed the absorption.

"The second layer of poison has been neutralized, so what about the third layer?" Li Qingshan asked.

Old Zhang chuckled: "Young man, don't be in such a hurry. You won't be in any danger for the next month or two."

Li Qingshan thought so too. Before Old Zhang went into seclusion for eighty-one days, he wouldn't help him complete his transformation.

Having undergone rigorous training under high pressure, he is now much more at peace.

At that moment, the earthenware pot under their feet suddenly began to make a thumping sound, as if something inside was about to jump out.

"It was left here by that peddler. He left the things here and then left."

Li Qingshan nodded, suddenly realizing that he now had a tiger demon spirit seeking revenge, a mourning ghost that regularly collected protection money, and a head in a basin by his side.

Too many lice won't bite, too much debt won't worry you.

Li Qingshan is in a good mental state now. He washed off the bloodstains, threw away his dirty clothes, and lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed) and fell into a deep sleep.

……

On the grasslands, the Red Bone Tribe.

Ulemon arrived at the high priest's tent. At this moment, the lion of the grassland looked as if it had just experienced a sandstorm, and its whole body was full of exhaustion.

"Ayan is dead." Ulemon knelt before the high priest.

The high priest's wrinkled eyes were filled with loving kindness: "Child, you are too tired, you need to rest."

"My body is torn to pieces," Ulemon said, pressing his hand to his heart. "My two children are dead. They were probably killed by the Southerners. Granny, I want revenge. Please help me."

The high priest stared at him silently for a long time: "The Redbone Lord's help did not come without a price."

Ulemon conveyed his decision through silence.

"Alright, then I will once again pray to the Lord of Red Bones to use the Seven-Day Killing Curse."

A bonfire was lit in the village, and the tribespeople knelt around it. The high priestess came out of her tent, and every head was bowed low, as if begging for forgiveness.

She sang and danced around the campfire. A gust of cold wind blew by, and her old body suddenly gained strength. Her dance movements became crisp and decisive, as if some kind of will had entered her body.

Suddenly, she tilted her head back, fell backward, and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Grandma, Grandma..."

Ulemon quickly stepped forward; this was something that had never happened before during the ceremony.

At this moment, the high priest's face turned extremely pale, yet there was a striking and startling red mark on his pale face.

"The Lord of Red Bones is not responding?"

"The Lord of Red Bones answered my prayers," the High Priest said weakly, "but His Seven-Day Killing Curse cannot be activated."

"Um?"

Ulemon frowned, his eyes filled with confusion.

Why can't the Seven-Day Killing Curse be activated?