334: Chapter 334 Black Dragon Gang

Chu Changsheng leaned casually against the old locust tree behind him, the hem of his white robes trailing among the thick fallen leaves. He raised his hand to adjust his cuffs, his gaze sweeping indifferently over the empty official road below. His posture was as relaxed as if he were admiring the autumn scenery in his own back garden, rather than blocking the road to "borrow" wealth.

The wind whistled through the forest, carrying an autumnal chill that brushed against their sleeves.

After waiting for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the clear sound of horse hooves finally drifted from the end of the official road in the distance, mixed with the rumble of carriage wheels rolling over flagstones, growing louder as it drew near.

Luo Xiaojiu perked up, her drooping head snapping up instantly as she squinted, locking her eyes onto the direction from which the sound came.

A gorgeously decorated ebony carriage, pulled by two sturdy, well-fed red horses, slowly drove into view.

The carriage was carved with beams and painted rafters, inlaid with gleaming copper studs, and the curtains were made of fine cloud brocade—one could tell at a glance that it had a significant background.

Flanking the carriage were four attendants riding tall horses, each dressed in black martial attire with cold, gleaming swords at their waists. Their eyes were as sharp as hawks, vigilantly scanning the woods on both sides of the road; they were well-trained and far superior to the guards of an ordinary merchant caravan.

Luo Xiaojiu's heart gave a "thump," and her earlier excitement instantly plummeted to the bottom.

She gulped secretly, her gaze darting over the four guards—this was no fat sheep; it was clearly a prickly, hard bone to chew!

The four guards had vicious looks in their eyes; they had likely all had blood on their hands!

She hesitated for a moment, her fingertips curling quietly. She carefully turned back to look at Chu Changsheng, who remained as calm and unruffled as ever, her lips moving to ask silently:

"Mas- Revered Master... this one... seems a bit too tough to handle?"

Chu Changsheng's gaze, however, fell upon an inconspicuous emblem on the side of the carriage—it was a coiled Dragon embroidered in black ink, its horns towering, its whiskers flared, and its lines fierce, exuding a sense of malice.

His expression remained unchanged, his eyelids slightly lowered, and his long eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, concealing the emotions in his gaze.

A moment later, he raised his eyes to look at the anxious Luo Xiaojiu and nodded, ever so lightly and slowly.

Watching Revered Master's confident expression, most of the anxiety in Luo Xiaojiu's heart dissipated instantly.

She bit her lower lip, secretly cheering herself on: If Revered Master said it was fine, then it must be no problem! With Revered Master's "decent" cultivation, dealing with these few mortals should be as easy as reaching out to take something!

She took a deep breath, trying hard to recall the bandit jargon she had heard in the markets, clenched her fists, straightened her back, and tried her best to look fierce.

Then she suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes, landing steadily in the center of the official road with her hands on her hips—unfortunately, she was petite, and this action, instead of being intimidating, revealed a childish cuteness.

She cleared her throat and shouted crisply, though she couldn't help but stutter, her voice trembling, her little face pulled tight, and even her ears turning red:

"Hey! You, the people in front, listen up! This road... was opened by me! This tree... was planted by me! If... if you want to pass... leave... leave your toll!"

It was, after all, her first time "committing a crime" with Revered Master, and against such a formidable target, even though she had gathered all her courage, she still couldn't suppress the nervousness in her heart.

The carriage and the guards were clearly stunned by this sudden scene.

The driver yanked hard on the reins, and the two red horses let out a loud neigh, their front hooves raising high before coming down heavily, kicking up dust.

The four guards reacted extremely quickly, simultaneously drawing their swords from their waists with a "shing," the cold, sharp blades flashing with an intimidating light under the setting sun, dazzling the eyes.

They swept their sharp gazes toward the road-blocking Luo Xiaojiu, then vigilantly glanced at the deep woods behind her, clearly fearing an ambush.

The leader was a man with a hideous scar on his face. He rode his horse forward a few steps and looked down at Luo Xiaojiu from his high vantage point.

Seeing her wearing a brand-new goose-yellow dress, her hair in an exquisite bun, trying hard to look fierce but unable to hide her childishness, a flash of astonishment first appeared in his eyes, then it was replaced by a thick absurdity, and finally, it turned into a cold Killing Intent, his voice as coarse as a grindstone:

"Where did this yellow-haired girl come from? You haven't even grown up yet, and you dare to block the carriage of my Black Jiao Gang? Tired of living? Get lost!"

Black Jiao Gang?

Luo Xiaojiu's heart tightened again, and a thin layer of sweat instantly seeped out on her back.

She had spent these years wandering the markets and had heard this name often.

This Black Jiao Gang was the most powerful Gang near Linyuan City. They acted ruthlessly, committing every evil including arson, murder, and looting. It was said they were even in cahoots with a small Cultivator Sect outside the city, and ordinary people would take a detour when they saw them.

Now, she had really kicked an iron plate!

Luo Xiaojiu's calves were already shaking like a sieve, and her feet felt as soft as if she were stepping on cotton in the clouds; she could barely stand.

But catching a glimpse of that slender yet upright figure behind her, like a green pine, she bit her lower lip hard again, stiffened her weak knees, and shouted with a stubborn, blustering tone:

"Cut, cut the crap! Whether you're a Black Jiao or a White Jiao, leave your money today, and I'll let you pass! Otherwise... otherwise if my Revered Master takes action, you'll be in for a treat!"

Before she finished, she hurriedly stretched out her small hand and pointed fiercely at the bushes behind her, trying to use that ethereal figure to support her crumbling confidence.

"Revered Master?"

The scar-faced guard leader seemed to have heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. His coarse laughter exploded across the empty Laoya Slope, and the hideous scar on the corner of his eye twisted along with his laughter.

His gaze suddenly turned as cold as a poison-quenched steel blade, staring directly at Luo Xiaojiu: "Just a yellow-haired girl who hasn't even grown up, and you dare to play tricks here! Take her! I want to see what kind of cowardly rat her hidden Revered Master is!"

Two guards dismounted in response, their steel swords drawing from their scabbards with a "clang," the harsh, crisp sound piercing the silence of the forest.

As the cold light flashed, the two men stepped forward with their blades, their heavy boots grinding over the dust, pressing step by step toward Luo Xiaojiu, the sense of oppression surging like a tide.

Luo Xiaojiu trembled all over, the little bit of confidence she had been bracing herself with instantly shattered into nothingness.

She instinctively stumbled back, her face as pale as paper, her cry for help squeezed from her throat: "Revered Master! Help!"

Before the cry had even faded, a slender, upright figure had already walked slowly out from behind the bushes.

Chu Changsheng was still wearing his moon-white Daoist robe, his sleeves unstained by dust, fluttering gently in the bleak autumn wind, like an immortal descended from the moon.

His posture stood proud like a strong pine, his face calm and unruffled, his gaze as indifferent as a cold pool in the deep mountains, as if he hadn't come to rescue her, but was just strolling by with nothing better to do.

But when his figure stood upon the official road, and his gaze swept indifferently over those guards and the carriage—

The world seemed to fall silent all of a sudden.

An invisible chill permeated the air out of nowhere.

This chill was not the slight coolness of the autumn wind, but an icy cold originating from the depths of the Soul, carrying supreme pressure that looked down upon all living beings, pressing heavily on everyone's heart, making even breathing difficult.

The two guards who were about to attack were suddenly nailed to the spot, as if pierced by invisible ice shards; the hair on their bodies instantly stood on end, and goosebumps crawled all over them.

Their sword-wielding hands trembled uncontrollably, causing the blades to emit a faint buzzing sound, and they could no longer take another step.

The scar-faced leader's pupils shrank, staring fixedly at Chu Changsheng. The sneer on his face froze instantly, replaced by heavy suspicion—and a hint of uncontrollable fear that crawled wildly up his spine.

He had spent decades struggling in the cultivation world, having seen at least eighty or a hundred Cultivators, and had even admired the dignity of Nascent Soul Old Ancestors, yet he had never felt such palpitations.

The person before him clearly had no fluctuation of Qi on his body, nor any trace of Killing Intent exposed, yet he made him feel a trembling that originated from his very marrow.

It was as if standing there was not a person, but an eternal, unmeltable iceberg, with ten thousand years of snow pressing down on his head, so cold it made it hard to breathe.

Or like a peerless sword suspended above the Nine Heavens; the scabbard was not yet opened, but its edge had already pierced the clouds, as if it would descend in the next moment, grinding them all into dust.

"Sen- Senior..."

The scar-faced leader's voice was as dry as if it had been rubbed by sandpaper, hoarse and unpleasant. The veins on his hand holding the reins bulged, his knuckles turning white, almost crushing the reins. "We, the Juniors, are from the Black Jiao Gang, ordered to escort our Young Gang Leader back to the city. If... if there was any offense, I ask that you, Senior... please be magnanimous!"

He lowered his posture extremely low, his head slightly bowed, not even daring to meet Chu Changsheng's eyes. The respect in his voice was mixed with uncontrollable fear, almost on the verge of tears.

The carriage curtain moved slightly at this moment, the cloud brocade embroidered with the black Dragon swaying gently—the person inside had clearly also sensed the earth-shattering changes outside.

Chu Changsheng, however, did not even spare a glance for the scar-faced leader. His gaze passed over him and landed straight on the gorgeous carriage. His voice remained flat and calm, revealing no emotion, yet it carried an absolute, unquestionable majesty, entering everyone's ears, word by word:

"Leave all the Spirit Stones and gold and silver on your persons, leave the carriage and horses, and you may go."

These words were almost identical to what he had said to the poor driver by the small grove earlier.

Only then, the object was an honest and simple driver, while now, it had changed to the habitually fierce and overbearing Black Jiao Gang.

The scar-faced leader's face turned as pale as paper in a "swish," and he subconsciously wanted to refuse and argue—the person in the carriage was the Young Gang Leader of the Black Jiao Gang, and these Spirit Stones and wealth were treasures offered to the Gang!

But when the words reached his lips, touching Chu Changsheng's deep, bottomless, and waveless eyes, all his words were frozen in his throat, and he couldn't spit out even half a word.

He had a strong premonition—

If he dared to say a single word of "no," in the next moment, they would all be dead, leaving not even a scrap of bone behind!

"...Yes! Yes! Senior!"

The scar-faced leader gritted his teeth hard, his throat rolling violently a few times, before he finally replied with difficulty, his voice full of humiliation and fear.