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He wouldn’t dare to mess with the Fourth Householder’s moldy head.

“Then just let the fatty be dead.”

Afterwards, he asked, “Should we feed him directly, saving some trouble?”

“If the monster beast wanted to eat humans, it would have done so long ago. Why would it wait for us to feed it? It’s picky, doesn’t eat human flesh.”

“How strange,” the tall evil cultivator remarked with some surprise.

“Indeed.”

The two evil cultivators tossed the fatty’s corpse out and began to clean the bloodstains inside the room.

They soon noticed that the formation at the location of the Beast-binding Chains seemed a lot dimmer.

The tall evil cultivator frowned and said, “Is this formation broken, or has someone tampered with it?”

Mo Hua, hidden on the beam, listened with a slight shock and contemplated whether he should also scheme the two evil cultivators’ deaths.

There were numerous formations within the Black Mountain Stronghold that he had tampered with.

Ordinarily, once a Formation Master completes a formation, they wouldn’t specifically check it unless the formation ceased functioning.

After all, there were so many formations, big and small, in the entire Black Mountain Stronghold that even Mo Hua couldn’t possibly check each one.

But if these two evil cultivators discovered that the formation had been tampered with and reported it to the Third Householder, and the evil cultivators began a thorough investigation, they would find the subtle clues left by Mo Hua when he resolved the formation.

Even if they could not see Mo Hua, they would reinforce their guard.

It would then be less convenient for Mo Hua to gather information.

Mo Hua weighed the strength of the two evil cultivators in his heart, considering whether he could eliminate them right there.

Alone, he wouldn’t be able to do it, but there was also the Big Tiger.

If he coordinated with the Big Tiger and struck in secret, killing one first and then dealing with the other together, they might just be able to manage it.

The short evil cultivator also stepped forward and took a look at the formation, asking, “Do you understand formations?”

“No,” the tall evil cultivator shook his head.

“Then what’re you talking about? Acting like you know so much?”

“But isn’t this formation indeed a bit unusual?”

“What could be unusual?” the short evil cultivator said, “It’s just a formation, they all look the same to me.”

“How can they be the same?” the tall evil cultivator remained puzzled.

The short evil cultivator cursed under his breath, “Use that thick skull of yours to think, if there was really something wrong with the formation, would this Tiger Demon be lying down so obediently here?”

The tall evil cultivator was taken aback, then nodded, “Makes sense.”

He glanced at the Tiger Demon.

The Tiger Demon was drooping its head, lying there obediently with a listless appearance.

The tall evil cultivator couldn’t help saying, “This monster beast seems quite docile, how could it suddenly have bitten the fatty to death?”

“Probably the fatty did something to provoke the monster beast into anger and ended up losing its life. These sorts of incidents are common, with newcomers not knowing their limits…”

The tall evil cultivator nodded.

After that, the two of them stopped chatting and concentrated on scrubbing the bloodstains on the ground.

Seeing that they were not persisting with the formation issue, Mo Hua also relaxed.

Fortunately, these two evil cultivators were “formation blind” and completely clueless about formations; otherwise, it would have been more trouble to deal with.

Mo Hua cast another glance at the Big Tiger, thinking to himself that he could only help it so far. Whether it could escape was now up to itself.

The Tiger Demon drooped its head, softly “hmm”ing a response.

As if it really heard what Mo Hua was thinking.

Mo Hua shook his head—this Big Tiger was too clever for its own good.

Another day went by and most of the tasks were about finished; Mo Hua began considering whether to head back home.

The fatty cultivator was dead, Kong Sheng’s Jade Pendant was in hand, the Map of Black Mountain Stronghold was mostly complete, and Mo Hua had gathered quite a bit of the information he could find.

More confidential information might not be known to the front stronghold’s evil cultivators, and Mo Hua didn’t dare venture too close to the back.

It seemed this was as far as he would get.

But before leaving, there was one thing Mo Hua was still undecided about.

That was the Fireball Technique Secret Manual of the Pale-faced Man.

He had been watching the Pale-faced Man for several days, wanting to steal his secret manual, copy it for himself, and then return it, all without anyone noticing.

But after watching for several days, he hadn’t found any opportunity.

The Pale-faced Man always carried his Storage Bag with him and cherished the Fireball Technique Secret Manual like a treasure.

And then there was Kong Sheng; it would be easy to kill him, but difficult to do so without leaving a trace.

Mo Hua sighed.

It seemed he would have to find another way in the future.

In the evening, Scarface and Pale-faced Man were still on night watch, huddled around a fire, eating distasteful meat and drinking bad wine.

Mo Hua remained invisible nearby, listening in.

He planned to return home the next day, but for tonight, he would listen in one more time to see if he could pick up any new information.

While drinking, Scarface and the Pale-faced Man chatted.

It was either grumbling, lewd talk, or some meaningless nonsense.

No new information came to light.

Mo Hua was getting weary; as he was considering whether to leave that night, he overheard Scarface and the Pale-faced Man discussing practicing Evil Skills.

The Pale-faced Man began with a sigh, “My ‘Spirit Slave’ is dead, it’s really bad luck. Now I have to raise a new one.”

Scarface sneered, “Did you absorb too much from her?”

“Even if you’re harsh, could you ever be as harsh as you?” the pale-faced man said displeased, “What have you turned your ‘woman’ into after ‘replenishing’ from her?”

“No matter what, she’s not dead, is she?”

“Living is worse than dying, better to be dead.”

“What, feeling sympathetic?” Scarface asked with a smirk.

The Pale-faced Man said, “I’m not like you, without the tenderness to cherish beauty. If I were to learn replenishing, I would love her tenderly…”

Scarface sneered, “Who the hell are you kidding?”

The Pale-faced Man wasn’t offended but leered, then suddenly said with surprise, “That woman had a partner, right? How could she willingly let you replenish from her?”

Scarface smiled and said, “I threatened her with her husband’s life; if she disobeyed, I would ensure he had a miserable death.”

“For her husband’s sake, she compromised and allowed me to take what I wanted. Each time after, she would desperately beg me not to torment her husband.”

The Pale-faced Man also laughed, “You truly are a beast.”

Scarface’s eyes gleamed with greed, and he smiled ferociously.

The Pale-faced Man took a sip of wine, then suddenly exclaimed in surprise, “That’s not right, her husband, didn’t you split him open with a single blow already?”

Scarface laughed unrestrainedly, “Isn’t that so?”

“You’re really something else…”

…

Mo Hua’s expression gradually became icy, unable to listen to the conversation further.

He stood up and left, following the dark path to a corner of the Black Mountain Stronghold, where some rudimentary houses stood. Some innocent Cultivators were imprisoned there.

There weren’t many female Cultivators still alive inside Black Mountain Stronghold; after checking several rooms, Mo Hua found the woman Scarface had spoken of.

She was confined alone in one room.

The room was furnished simply, with some basic food. The woman was not chained and was free to move about, but she couldn’t leave the room.

The night was pitch-black, with a chilling moonlight shining through the window into the room.

The woman lay on the bed, numb, her hair tousled, her clothes tattered, her body covered in bruises, looking fragile and pitiful.

She shed no tears, as if she had none left to cry.

Suddenly, she slowly got up, took a wooden hairpin from beside the bed, and pointed it at her heart, but hesitated, her hands trembling, unable to follow through.

Moments later, she seemed resigned to her fate and lay back down numbly, but her hand was tightly clutching a scent pouch, her knuckles turning white.

Embroidered on the scent pouch was a pair of mandarin ducks.

Mo Hua remembered his mother telling him that this was a token of love between partners.

She must be worried about the safety of her husband.

Despite the torture and loss of dignity, she was clinging to life.

But her husband was already dead, and her future held nothing but endless torment and pain.

Her perseverance was just an endurance of suffering.

Mo Hua wanted to save her, but he simply couldn’t.

His Cultivation was not strong enough, his Spells still too weak. Though he could conceal himself and trap enemies, he was not adept at killing.

If he went out to call for help, it would take too long.

This woman could not hold on that much longer.

Mo Hua felt downhearted and sighed, then spoke softly, “Your husband is already dead.”

At his words, the woman looked stunned and asked, “Really?”

Her voice was hoarse but not surprised; perhaps, having a connection with her spouse, she had sensed it already, but her heart refused to accept it, still searching for a sliver of hope.

“Scarface said so himself.”

“Is that so…” The woman’s tears, once dried up, slowly began to emerge again.

“He’s already… dead.”

The room was silent; the woman’s crying made no sound.

“Thank you.”

She continued slowly, not knowing who the speaker was, but the voice sounded very young; perhaps it was a child.

How could a child be in such a place?

This filthy and dreadful place.

Perhaps it was an Immortal’s disciple who couldn’t bear to see me suffer, so he told me the truth.

Does this world truly have Immortals?

If there are indeed Immortals in this world, I don’t ask you to rescue me from this sea of suffering, just let those who deserve to die plunge into hell.

The woman silently made her wish. Then, clutching the scent pouch in her left hand and the wooden hairpin in her right, she fiercely stabbed into her own heart.

Blood reddened her clothes, strikingly vivid against the night, like a poppy flower.

The woman, with a peaceful and relieved expression, slowly closed her eyes.

“My husband, this life has been too hard. If there’s an afterlife, let’s become partners again.”

Before closing her eyes, she whispered this wish in her heart.

Mo Hua watched silently, his young face full of sorrow, then a boundless rage ignited within him.

In this world, the ones who deserved to die were still alive, while those who should have lived a good life died in misery.

The moonlight was cold, and Mo Hua’s gaze in the dark night was even colder.

He had made up his mind—before leaving, he would kill Scarface first!