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

Xu Jiande used to kill people mainly to survive or to fulfill his missions.

He could have finished the fight faster and cleaner today, but he didn't.

He put in three more points of effort on the third Japanese soldier and spent about half a minute on the fourth.

He didn't know he was killing people; he was mainly using killing to suppress the fire in his heart.

Xu Jiande bent down and searched the bodies of the Japanese soldiers, taking away anything useful. He then dragged their corpses into an abandoned room before continuing on his way.

He walked slowly, the restlessness still lingering, like a fishbone stuck in his throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.

And so it was; his mood became even more violent.

As he passed a collapsed intersection, he stopped and stared at the burned-out houses for a while.

"Oh shit."

He muttered a curse under his breath. Who he cursed, no one knew. What he cursed, no one knew either.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him.

It was very light, not like the leather boots of the Japanese soldiers, but more like the sound of cloth shoes scraping against gravel. Xu Jiande turned around abruptly.

A figure flashed past the alley entrance.

Without hesitation, Xu Jiande pushed off with his foot and chased after him.

He was now much faster than the average person, and within a few steps he was right behind the man.

Hearing the approaching footsteps, the other person suddenly turned around and swung a short knife at Xu Jiande.

The wind from the blade was fierce, carrying a reckless energy, but its landing points were completely unpredictable.

Xu Jiande dodged to the side, grabbed the man's wrist with his other hand, twisted it downwards, and the short knife fell to the ground with a clatter. He then twisted the man's arm behind his back, pressed him against the wall, and pressed his knee against his lower back.

"Don't move," Xu Jiande said in a low voice.

The man struggled a few times but couldn't break free. He was panting heavily, like a wild dog cornered in a dead end.

Xu Jiande freed one hand and reached down to his waist, feeling around. He didn't find the gun, but only a hard object wrapped in a rag. When he opened it, he found half a roasted potato that had been eaten.

Xu Jiande released him and took a step back. The man suddenly turned around, his back against the wall, his eyes wide open in the darkness.

He was filthy, his hair stood on end like a straw nest, and his clothes were torn in several places, revealing abrasions and bruises everywhere. He stared at Xu Jiande, his lips pressed tightly together, as if trying to figure out who this man was.

"Who are you?" Xu Jiande asked first.

"What's it to you, you little devil? Kill me or chop me up as you please." The man's voice was hoarse and his tone was aggressive, but his body was still pressed against the wall, and he didn't dare to pounce on him again.

Xu Jiande glanced at the short knife that had fallen to the ground.

The knife was old, with black cloth strips wrapped around the handle, and the blade was chipped in several places, but the blade itself was polished to a shine.

Hearing this, he picked up the dagger and asked, "Are you a local from Jingzhou?"

The man took the knife, paused for a moment, and then slowly nodded, the wariness in his eyes lessening slightly.

Xu Jiande then asked him if he was going to do anything bad again, and the other man said he was preparing to kill Japanese soldiers.

Xu Jiande became even more interested and asked, "Have you ever killed any Japanese soldiers?"

The man's throat bobbed, as if hesitating whether to tell the truth. After a long while, he turned his head away and whispered, "I killed three."

His eyes reddened after he said those three words.

It wasn't fear, but rather a surge of pent-up hatred that suddenly welled up.

He said his name was Chen Erzhu, and his home was in the east of the city. On the day the Japanese broke into the city, his father was stabbed to death in the yard, and his mother and sister were dragged away by the Japanese and never returned. He survived by hiding in his neighbor's woodpile.

From then on, he never left this street. During the day, he hid in cellars and ruins, and at night, he would come out and kill any lone Japanese soldiers he found. With just a knife, he would kill one at a time.

He said he originally wanted to find another one tonight, but when he saw Xu Jiande walking on the street in the distance, he thought it was another Japanese patrol and followed him.

Xu Jiande remained silent for a long time after hearing this.

He reached over his shoulder, took a rifle, pulled out two boxes of ammunition and two grenades, and handed them to Chen Erzhu.

"Take it," Xu Jiande said. "You can't kill Japanese devils with just a broken knife."

Chen Erzhu looked down at the rifle, his eyes widening.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take it. As soon as he got the gun, he suddenly lost all his strength, his shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and tears streamed down his face.

He wiped his face vigorously with his sleeve as he asked, "Which unit are you from? Are you here to kill Japanese soldiers too?"

Xu Jiande said, "Just like you, I came by myself."

Upon hearing this, Chen Erzhu was both surprised and delighted. He grabbed his gun and moved closer to Xu Jiande, saying, "I know this place very well. You can't do it alone. Let's work together. I'll show you the way."

Xu Jiande shook his head: "No. You can't come with me. I have my own methods. Taking you along will only make you a bigger target. You take the gun, keep your life, and find a place to hide. If you want revenge, you have to stay alive first."

Chen Erzhu opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something more, but Xu Jiande gave him some more food before saying, "Alright, go now, take care of yourself."

Xu Jiande turned and left.

He walked very fast, disappearing into the depths of the alley in just a few breaths.

Chen Erzhu stood there watching; the sky was dark, and a few wisps of gray drifted down from mid-air.

He looked down at the rifle in his arms, and tears welled up in his eyes again, but this time he didn't make a sound, only hugged the gun tighter.

Even after Xu Jiande and Chen Erzhu parted ways, the anger in his heart had not yet dissipated.

He had walked for less than ten minutes when he saw another patrol of Japanese soldiers coming out from the east end of the street.

There were five of them, lined up in two rows, walking crookedly. The one in front was carrying a flashlight, the beam of light swaying wildly against the wall.

The Japanese soldiers, now that they have almost no resistance, are much less vigilant, making it easier for Xu Jiande to take action.

Xu Jiande stopped hiding.

He pressed himself against the wall to meet them, and when the group got close, he suddenly shot out from the side.

He first smashed the flashlight away with a punch, then kicked the nearest Japanese soldier in the shin.

The man was thrown out, and the gun slipped from his hand.

Before they could even get into position, Xu Jiande drew his sword and stabbed them.

He killed even more ruthlessly today than before, aiming his knife at the throats and ribs, and in the blink of an eye, all five men were lying on the street.

He crouched down and searched the area, collecting any usable ammunition. He then dragged the bodies to the roadside and piled them up before straightening up and letting out a long sigh.

Strangely, after killing this squad, the irritation in my chest actually subsided.

Blood and qi flowed slowly into the limbs, like a light rain falling into dry soil.

His mind cleared up considerably, and the urge to twist the knife more than necessary gradually subsided.

He stood in the empty middle of the street and looked up at the sky. A crack appeared in the clouds, and the moon revealed half of its face, very white and thin, like a piece of white paper pasted on a gray cloth.

Xu Jiande raised his hand, wiped away a drop of blood splattered on his chin, turned around and continued walking, preparing to kill again.

He naturally wanted to keep killing to his own satisfaction, and such opportunities were rare. If the Japanese soldiers became more vigilant in a day, it would be much harder to kill them so easily.