9: Chapter 9 Deliberately Making Things Difficult, Harboring Murderous Intent

For the next half-month, the entire herb garden echoed with Qi Yang's violent coughing.

In order to fulfill the doubled quota set by Sun Changming, Qi Yang took playing the role of "risking his life" to the absolute extreme.

Every day, he went down to the fields before dawn and worked until late at night.

His face grew paler and more sallow by the day, his posture increasingly hunched, and on several occasions he even coughed up a mouth full of fresh blood right into the spirit fields, staining the soil red before him.

Inside the West Wing Room, Su Qinghan watched all of this through a gap in the window, her brows tightly furrowed.

She knew that new Deacon Sun was deliberately making things difficult, and she could see that old man Qi Yang was truly risking his old life.

Yet she did not step in to help. The Cultivation World was inherently a place where the strong ate the weak, her own injuries had yet to heal, and she was like a clay idol crossing a river—hardly able to save herself.

However, what Su Qinghan did not know was that every night when Qi Yang returned to his thatched hut, locked the door, and entered his underground secret chamber, that terminally ill appearance would vanish completely.

Inside the secret chamber, the bronze stone platform was packed with top-grade Spirit Medicine he had just force-ripened.

"Want to squeeze me dry? Does a fat pig like you even deserve to try?"

Qi Yang sneered coldly and selected several dozen stalks of Spirit Medicine from his Storage Pouch that barely reached top-grade age standards, packing them into specially made jade boxes.

These were all force-ripened using the green liquid diluted from the black gourd. They could satisfy Sun Changming's demands without appearing impossibly shocking.

At the end of the month, the day to collect the herbs arrived.

Sun Changming stepped into the herb garden with a beaming smile, punctual as a ghost.

"Elder Qi, how is this month's quota coming along?"

Sun Changming held his hands behind his back and walked unhurriedly over to sit down at the stone table.

Qi Yang immediately held up several jade boxes and shuffled forward, trembling violently.

His face was deathly pale, a trace of blood remaining at the corner of his mouth, as if a gust of wind could blow him over.

"Deacon Sun... This old man has put his old life on the line and finally managed to gather the doubled quota. Please have a look, Deacon."

Sun Changming opened the jade boxes and swept his gaze over them, a flash of surprise in his eyes.

He actually managed to gather them all? And the quality was indeed top-notch across the board.

This old thing truly had some potential left to squeeze.

However, Sun Changming hadn't come today just to collect these Spirit Medicines.

His eyes darted around, and his gaze landed on a snow-white Ganoderma.

This was a thirty-year-old snow ganoderma, perfectly intact and full of Spiritual Qi.

Sun Changming extended two chubby fingers, picked up the snow ganoderma, and held it before his eyes to scrutinize it.

Suddenly, he applied force with his fingers.

Crack!

The fragile snow ganoderma was forcibly snapped in two by his grip, more than half of its Spiritual Qi instantly dissipating.

"Oh my!"

Sun Changming cried out in feigned surprise, then his face darkened, and he violently slammed the broken snow ganoderma down at Qi Yang's feet.

"Elder Qi! How do you do your job? The inner roots of this snow ganoderma were rotten long ago, yet you dare to fool this deacon with such inferior goods!"

Qi Yang looked completely incredulous. "Deacon! This... this was clearly intact! It was you..."

"Impudent!"

Sun Changming harshly cut him off, his Qi Condensation Seventh Layer pressure bursting forth and pressing down ruthlessly on Qi Yang.

Qi Yang's bones emitted grinding sounds all over his body, and his whole frame trembled violently.

"Damaging the Sect's precious Spirit Medicine and passing off inferior goods as high quality—this is a severe crime!"

Sun Changming looked down at Qi Yang from above and sneered, "According to Sect rules, you are fined one hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones! If you cannot hand them over, go to the Law Enforcement Hall tonight to receive thirty lashes of the Heart-Destroying Whip!"

Thirty lashes of the Heart-Destroying Whip—let alone a hundred-year-old man at the Qi Condensation Third Layer, even a Cultivator at the Qi Condensation 5th Layer would lose a layer of skin from it.

This was clearly aiming to take Qi Yang's life!

Inside the West Wing Room, Su Qinghan snapped her eyes open.

Pushing people too far!

She grabbed the longsword resting at the head of her bed, cold light bursting from her eyes, preparing to push open the door and step out.

Though her injuries had yet to heal, she could never stand by and watch this old man be driven to his death.

Just as her hand touched the door latch—

"I give in! This old man gives in!"

Qi Yang's wretched pleas echoed from the courtyard.

Su Qinghan froze, looking through the gap in the window.

She saw Qi Yang trembling as he dug out a dirt-stained, ragged cloth bundle from under the bed, clutching it tightly to his chest as if it were his very life.

"Deacon Sun... This old man doesn't have one hundred Spirit Stones... This is my coffin fund gathered over a lifetime, a few stalks of fifty-year-old Spirit Medicine. I beg you to show mercy and take them to settle the debt!"

A glint of greed flashed in Sun Changming's eyes, and he snatched the ragged cloth bundle away.

Opening it, he saw three stalks of fifty-year-old Yellow Essence and one stalk of fifty-year-old Blood Ginseng lying inside.

Although they weren't rare species, their age was genuine. If sold at the market, they were easily worth over a hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones.

"Consider yourself sensible, old thing."

Sun Changming stuffed the bundle into his robe with satisfaction, his dark scowl turning into a beaming grin.

"Work hard. As long as you remain obedient, this deacon guarantees you'll enjoy your peaceful golden years here in the outer Sect."

With that, Sun Changming swaggered away from the herb garden.

In the West Wing Room, Su Qinghan slowly loosened her grip on her sword.

Looking at Qi Yang lying on the ground covered in mud, a deep sense of disappointment flashed through her eyes.

Giving in and backing down, bowing and scraping.

This old man was, in the end, just mud that couldn't stick to a wall.

She closed her eyes, looking away, and resumed channeling her Cultivation Technique to heal her wounds.

In the courtyard, Qi Yang slowly climbed up from the ground.

As he patted the dust off himself, there was not a trace of humiliation or anger in his turbid eyes—only a spine-chilling, dead silence.

Gazing in the direction Sun Changming had left, his eyes revealed a look brimming with murderous intent.

"Coffin fund? It truly is a coffin fund, but it was prepared for you."

Qi Yang had tampered with those fifty-year-old Spirit Medicines long ago.

Using the black gourd, he had force-ripened an obscure poisonous plant called drunken immortal grass, extracted its juice, and soaked it into the roots of those Spirit Medicines.

The toxicity of drunken immortal grass was insidious, colorless, and odorless; even if a Cultivator possessed sharp perception, it was difficult to detect.

Normally, it lay dormant within the Meridians without causing any harm, but the moment it came into contact with a specific aroma of wine, it would instantly turn into a sharp blade that sealed off the Meridians, causing the victim's spiritual power to completely stagnate in a short time!

Qi Yang had long since investigated and found that Sun Changming was also a lover of fine alcohol, especially fond of the strongest Shaodaozi wine in the market town.

Having obtained the Spirit Medicine, that old thing would undoubtedly head to the market town tonight to fence the goods and enjoy a hearty drink while at it.

The fatal trap had been set; all that remained was for the prey to walk into it.

As night fell, a hazy moon hung over the treetops, and a dead silence enfolded the herb garden.

On a mountain path ten miles away from the herb garden, Sun Changming reeked of alcohol as he stumbled along.

He was in an exceptionally good mood today.

Not only had he extorted a neat sum from that old trash and sold those fifty-year-old Spirit Medicines for a great price at the Ghost Market, but he had also heartily enjoyed a jug of fine Shaodaozi wine.

Liquor emboldens a coward's heart, and Sun Changming was certainly no saint to begin with.

As the strong liquor went down his throat, Su Qinghan's exquisite face and slender, delicate waist involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

"So what if she's the daughter of the Luoxia Sect's Sect Master? Isn't she still a fallen Phoenix lower than a chicken right now, waiting to die in this lousy herb garden?"

Sun Changming licked his dry lips, the lustful fire in his eyes burning brighter and brighter.

The Luoxia Sect had sent Su Qinghan over purely to curry favor with the Xuantian Sect; they wouldn't dare ask about her life or death at all.

Even if he forced himself upon her tonight, as long as he made up a casual excuse afterward, the higher-ups would never punish a promising outer Sect deacon like him over an outsider.

At this thought, Sun Changming quickened his pace and headed straight for the Outer Sect Herb Garden.

Bang!

In the dead of night at the herb garden, the withered wooden door was kicked into splinters by a surge of violent spiritual power.

His face flushed red, Sun Changming charged into the courtyard breathing heavily. Without even casting a glance at Qi Yang's thatched hut, he went straight for the West Wing Room.

"Young Miss Su! This deacon has come to inspect the security of the herb garden! Hurry up and open the door to welcome me!"

Leering lewdly, Sun Changming kicked open the wooden door of the West Wing Room.