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

Xu Jiande walked into a small alley blackened by fire. At the end of the alley was a house that had not collapsed completely. Half of the beams were broken, and there was a small patch of dry grass that had not been burned against the corner of the wall.

Xu Jiande crawled inside, covered the alley entrance with a few broken planks, curled up on the haystack, hugged his gun to his chest, and closed his eyes.

In the distance, sporadic gunshots rang out again, sometimes like popping beans, sometimes like tiles falling to the ground. As he listened, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

In a daze, the demonic energy began to move and circulate.

But as soon as the demonic energy began to circulate, something enormous surged forth from above, below, in the walls on all sides, and underground.

It was as if he had drilled through the bottom of a well, and the water from underground surged up.

cold.

Still in a daze, in the pitch-black temple, I couldn't see anything.

Xu Jiande felt something drilling into his body. From the soles of his feet, from the back of his head, from his chest, from every crevice of his bones, it was heavy and cold like mercury.

It's resentment.

Xu Jiande had never felt such intense resentment. Compared to the resentment seeping from the entire city of Jingzhou, the resentment of the hundreds of people at Caishikou in Beijing was like a drop of water compared to a river.

Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even more people died here.

The gray mist in his dantian was stirred up, as if it had been brought to life by the resentment outside.

Xu Jiande unconsciously clenched his fist, then relaxed it.

The chill continued to seep in, without stopping.

Xu Jiande gritted his teeth, closed his eyes again, and slowly pressed the demonic energy down, trying to keep the resentment outside.

But the more the demonic energy was suppressed, the more rapidly the resentment outside surged. He was like a leaky jar, with water seeping in from all over his body.

He finally stopped blocking.

He loosened his jaw and released all his demonic energy. The chilling sensation, like a river bursting its banks, rushed into his entire body in an instant. He shuddered, feeling as if someone had slapped him on the back of the head.

Then, the demonic energy in his dantian began to swirl. It swirl faster and faster, like a ball of oil being ignited.

Xu Jiande sat in the darkness, his body covered in cold sweat.

He felt himself becoming stronger.

He grew stronger at a speed he had never experienced before. Streams of power surged in from all directions, pouring into his bones and flesh, like water being poured into a dried-up jar.

The tank isn't full yet, but it will be soon.

Xu Jiande opened his eyes. He couldn't see his own face, but he knew that his eyes were probably red again.

"Since we're already here," he said softly, as if talking to someone else, or perhaps to himself.

……

Upon arriving in Jingzhou, Xu Jiande initially did not initiate large-scale killings.

The main task was to find out where the Japanese soldiers were still stationed, which streets were passable, which ruins were suitable for hiding, when patrols were conducted, how often they were on patrol, and where they passed through.

He was like a black fish, swimming among the ruins of the city, walking along broken walls and stepping on piles of ash, without making a sound.

But his cultivation level is increasing.

And it's rising very quickly.

This is because they have absorbed too much resentment. The problem is that this kind of resentment is quite troublesome. If there is too much, it can easily lead to an imbalance and loss of control compared to the body's vital energy and blood.

Just like the day before, that resentment that surged in from all directions filled the entire night.

At first, he tried to block the demonic energy, but later he found that the more he blocked, the slower it became, so he simply let go and allowed the resentment to rush directly into his meridians and mix with the demonic energy.

The gray mist in his dantian thickened overnight, and the demonic energy was like being soaked in a cold pool, cold and heavy, yet it spun around very quickly.

Knowing this, I can't absorb any more resentment, or serious problems might arise.

On this day, Xu Jiande hid in a cluster of burned-down houses in the east of the city and meditated.

Beneath those charred beams and broken tiles lay ashes that hadn't been transported away.

He sat behind a half-broken wall, and as soon as he closed his eyes, the chill from the ground rose up and seeped into his bones.

By midday, he became inexplicably irritable. A surge of anger rose from his dantian to his throat; he wanted to shout, smash things, and find someone to hit.

He tried to press down three times, but couldn't. He raised his hand and punched the wall beside him. The wall cracked, and blood appeared on his fist. The pain subsided somewhat, but the anger within him also subsided a little.

As evening fell, Xu Jiande emerged from his hiding place, ready to commit murder.

Not killing the Japanese devils would make one's faith unstable.

By this time, it was already dark.

It's a dark night for murder, and a windy day for arson.

Xu Jiande walked north of the city along an alley that was half buried in rubble.

They hadn't walked far when they saw a group of Japanese soldiers coming from across the street ahead. There were five of them, carrying guns, and they weren't walking fast. They looked like they had just robbed someone, their pockets bulging.

The man at the front was carrying a chicken with its neck broken, its wings flapping intermittently. Several people were talking and laughing loudly, their voices carrying far through the empty ruins.

Xu Jiande quickly dodged and went into a dilapidated house next door, where he crouched down behind a window and waited.

The Japanese soldiers approached, then slowly moved away. Xu Jiande jumped out of the window, came up behind them, and punched the last Japanese soldier in the back of the neck. The soldier's neck caved in, but he didn't fall; instead, he lurched forward.

The people in front were still laughing, but they turned around when they heard the noise.

Xu Jiande didn't give them a chance to shout, and quickly attacked with his bayonet. While stabbing, he also covered their mouths.

It was so fast that the second Japanese soldier didn't have time to react and his body went limp.

The third and fourth people heard the noise. They turned around, realized something was wrong, and immediately tried to raise their guns.

Before the gun was even halfway raised, Xu Jiande had already kicked away the third man's gun barrel and then smashed his cheekbone with his elbow.

The Japanese soldier screamed and fell backward, hitting the back of his head on a roadside stone, and then fell silent.

The fourth soldier had already pulled the bolt, but Xu Jiande was a step ahead, stepping on his hand. The sound of bones breaking and the sound of the rifle butt hitting the ground rang out at the same time.

He had just opened his mouth to shout when Xu Jiande pressed his knee down on his chest and grabbed his neck with both hands.

The man's face grew increasingly red, his eyes bulged out, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he made a gurgling sound in his throat.

Xu Jiande did not let up.

He stared at the Japanese soldier's face, his grip tightening.

The Japanese soldier gripped his wrists tightly with both hands, scratching them until they bled, but Xu Jiande didn't feel any pain.

His eyes were burning, his mind was blank, and only one thing was clear: this man deserved to die.

Once the person had completely stopped moving, Xu Jiande slowly released his grip and stood up.

He looked down at his hands. The back of his hands was covered in blood, and there was a sticky, dark red coating under his fingernails, between his thumb and forefinger, and between his knuckles.

It's all the blood of the Japanese devils.

Xu Jiande looked at his hands and knew he should be happy.

Having killed five Japanese soldiers and obtained their vital energy, he was one step closer to Foundation Establishment.

But he couldn't feel happy. He only felt thirsty, intensely thirsty. It was as if something inside him had been set on fire, burning him and making him restless. Instead, he felt even more murderous.

This feeling is strange, like I'm being possessed.