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

After the battle, the group of people surrounded him. The leader, whose arm was still dripping blood, ignored the pain and looked Xu Jiande up and down as if he were a monster that had sprung from the ground.

"Thanks, bro. Which part are you in?" he asked.

"Just passing by." Xu Jiande stuck his bayonet into the ground, bent down, and pulled out two boxes of ammunition from the Japanese soldier's corpse.

"Just passing by?" The man's eyes widened. "You single-handedly carried two machine guns and killed so many Japanese soldiers. You call that just passing by? Brother, you saved us. Come join us. Don't leave."

Xu Jiande straightened up, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and said that he had important business to attend to and needed to continue south to Jingzhou, Jiangcheng, and the places where the Kuomintang was still resisting.

Upon hearing this, the man's face changed: "Why go to Jingzhou now? It's surrounded by the Japanese. Besides, Brother Jiande, it's too dangerous for you to travel that far alone."

"I'm not afraid. I'm lucky to be alive," Xu Jiande said with a smile.

Seeing that he was determined, the man didn't dare to persuade him any further. He clasped his hands in return and said, "Brother, you're destined for great things. I can't stop you. Just one thing: meeting you is fate. Let's have a good drink together."

Xu Jiande unfortunately refused to agree to this.

That evening, Xu Jiande had dinner with them in Liushuwa.

The stew was made with fish caught in the river, with some salt added, and a can of confiscated meat was also opened.

The liquor was homemade and burned the throat. Xu Jiande didn't drink much, just half a bowl. The man, on the other hand, drank quite a bit, until his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Brother, if we meet again after the war, I'll treat you to some good wine," he said, his eyes red.

Xu Jiande nodded.

Xu Jiande set off before dawn the next day.

Those people stood at the village entrance to see him off; some were wiping their eyes, and some were waving goodbye.

He had walked quite a distance when he could still hear someone calling after him, "Brother Xu, be sure to let me know when you get there!"

Xu Jiande didn't turn around, but simply raised his hand and waved it behind him.

The further south you go, the more difficult the road becomes.

Fewer people were fleeing, but more stray dogs were appearing, and there were more corpses than people on the roadside.

He traveled during the day and sought a secluded spot on a hillside to rest at night. Sometimes the entire field would rumble, as if ghosts were crying in the wind.

Xu Jiande sat by the fire, polishing his knife. The knife gleamed, but his heart grew increasingly empty, as if the wind had drilled a hole in his chest, filling it with the cold, earthy smell of the night.

He suddenly remembered Beijing, and that there was someone waiting for him in a courtyard somewhere.

He pulled out the coarse cloth bag Bai Ling had given him from his pocket; inside was half a packet of fried noodles. He grabbed a handful and put it in his mouth, chewing for a long time, but couldn't taste anything.

……

Three days later, Xu Jiande slept in an abandoned brick kiln.

It started raining in the middle of the night, and a cold wind blew in from the cave dwelling. He was wrapped in a tattered overcoat and couldn't fall asleep.

It was pitch black outside the window. The wind blew the rain into a mist, which poured down from mid-air, like someone was pouring water down from the sky.

Xu Jiande sat up against the wall and took out the red cloth package from his bundle. He held it in his hand, but didn't open it.

Bai Ling should still be in the courtyard house, wearing that plain clothes, burning paper money for him.

Jia Zhangshi was probably cursing again, Yan Bugui was calculating the paper money, and He Daqing was sitting on the threshold in a daze.

Xu Jiande thought they thought he was dead. None of them knew that he was sitting in a dilapidated kiln a hundred miles away, listening to the rain and thinking of people.

He remembered what Bai Ling had said that night. She said, "If you can come back, our family will live a good life together."

Xu Jiande lowered his head, put the red cloth bag back into his arms, and pressed it against his heart.

"I'll come back," he said to the dark cave.

The sound was very soft, swallowed up by the sound of the rain.

As soon as it was light, Xu Jiande did not continue on his way, but waited for the weather to clear.

Afterwards, he encountered five Japanese soldiers riding two motorcycles.

The two motorcycles came bouncing from the dirt road to the south, with guns mounted in the cargo bed, kicking up two plumes of yellow dust behind them.

Xu Jiande was sitting on a broken monument by the roadside drinking water when he saw it from afar. He quickly put away his water bottle, slid down, and hid in the weeds behind the monument.

He first set up his rifle and aimed it at the driver of the first car.

The Japanese soldier was wearing goggles and wasn't driving fast. When the car was within seventy or eighty paces, Xu Jiande held his breath and pulled the trigger.

As soon as the gun fired, the driver tilted his head to the side, and the motorcycle, as if drunk, plunged headfirst into the shallow ditch beside the road. The Japanese soldier in the truck bed was thrown out and landed on the pile of rubble, struggling to climb up.

Xu Jiande ignored him, moved the gun, and shot the driver of the second car.

The shot pierced the goggles, causing the Japanese soldier to loosen his grip, the handlebars to veer off course, and he and his comrade in the back of the vehicle crashed into the motorcycle in front of them, overturning in the middle of the road.

Xu Jiande continued firing, wounding another Japanese soldier, and then charged forward with his rifle.

The two Japanese soldiers in the truck bed were less seriously injured and were about to draw their guns when Xu Jiande arrived in front of them.

He stabbed the Japanese soldier in front of him in the throat with one stroke, then stabbed another Japanese soldier under the ear with another stroke.

The Japanese soldier's eyes bulged, and with his hand still on his holster, he slumped into the truck bed.

The one who had been thrown into the ditch saw this and got up to run away, but Xu Jiande went up and stabbed him again.

Two more units of blood and energy were added.

After searching, he found three pistols, five magazines, thirteen grenades, half a box of unopened canned food, and a can of gasoline. Xu Jiande strapped everything usable to the back of the car, got on the still-starting motorcycle, and headed south.

Motorcycles can travel fast; on good roads, they can cover four or five hundred miles a day.

He was dressed in Japanese soldiers' clothes, alone in his vehicle, his face covered in yellow dust when the wind blew.

If they encountered Japanese soldiers checking them along the way, and there were only a few of them, Xu Jiande would not wait for them to speak, but would twist the accelerator to get close, stop, and then quickly knock them down and kill them.

If the enemy outnumbered him, he would throw grenades and then get out of the vehicle to finish them off. After each kill, he would take the guns and rations. When there was no more room in the back seat, he would remove the bolts from the guns he couldn't carry and throw them into a ditch, keeping only the ammunition and food.

After another seven days of travel, Xu Jiande arrived at a place 30 kilometers away from Jingzhou.

The road grew wider and wider, and the ruts and hoofprints on the ground increased, but the fields beside the road were all abandoned.

The village is still there, but the people are gone. The doors and windows have been torn down and used as firewood, the wells have all been blocked up, and occasionally you can see a few broken flags and military vehicles burned to the ground by the roadside.

Jingzhou City was just ahead, but outside Jingzhou City, there was no one to be seen, not even Japanese soldiers.

The Japanese devils are currently in Jingzhou City, committing bestial acts.

By this point, Xu Jiande had hunted for 3,000 li, killing more than 500 Japanese soldiers, while also encountering the deaths of more than 10,000 compatriots.

His blood energy and resentment were increasing, and he was getting closer and closer to the fourth level of Qi Refining.

At that moment, Xu Jiande stood beside a stone bridge that had been burned down to only half its original size, facing the wind, and saw a large patch of gray-black clouds pressing down on the southern horizon. The clouds were thick, clinging to the horizon, like a whole charred city brick.

"Jingzhou," Xu Jiande said in a low voice.

He secured his bayonet, slung his bundle over his shoulder, and continued onward.