Vanished into Shadow! The divine ability of the Star River Shuttle activated! Feng Zikang concealed his form, and immediately the ferocious mechanical man lost its target, freezing mid-air,

looking left and right, utterly bewildered. Mo Li was also startled, retreating rapidly, but it was already too late! With a sharp chii sound, the cyan light shield before him was effortlessly sliced through, and the tip of a broken iron sword was pressed against his throat. Feng Zikang stood before him, wearing a placid smile.

Cold sweat streamed down Mo Li’s forehead, yet his mind seemed to suddenly clear. He closed his eyes for a long moment, seeing Feng Zikang make no move, then abruptly opened them, his gaze regaining its clarity. “Fellow Daoist, since you do not kill me, I presume you are not the murderer from Longshi Gully. I was rash…”

He sighed softly, suddenly regretting his impulsiveness. The other was merely a fourteen-year-old boy, a disciple of the orthodox Military School—how could he commit such a monstrous deed?

His passing by was merely grounds for slight suspicion, insufficient for a conviction. But just now, he had acted as if certain the boy was the killer, attacking with full force without restraint. Fortunately, he hadn't intended to take the boy's life; otherwise, if the opponent's cultivation had been weaker and he had been struck dead in that fit of rage, what then? His heart was filled with remorse, a look of pain crossing his features.

A disciple of the Mohist School is benevolent and kind-hearted; how had he become so violent during his cultivation today?

Feng Zikang retracted his sword and chuckled, “Fellow Daoist need not concern yourself. I saw your anger overcoming your heart and clouding your spiritual perception, so I deliberately drew your fury out, lest it stagnate in your chest and harm your body.”

So that was it! Mo Li was immensely grateful. He recalled the mechanical man and bowed deeply, “Thank you, Fellow Daoist, for setting me straight. I encountered a tragic event just moments ago, and my emotions were so turbulent that I acted wildly. Had you not stopped me, I don't know what terrible things I might have done!”

He truly felt a lingering fear. If his spiritual perception had been obscured and he had done something to dishonor his sect in his rage, it would have warranted death a thousand times over! No wonder his Master said his temperament was still unsettled and required further tempering.

“No need for formalities,”

Feng Zikang helped him up. “You mentioned dozens of lives lost at Longshi Gully just now—what exactly happened?” The moment this was brought up, veins bulged on Mo Li’s forehead, showing his extreme rage.

It turned out he had also accepted a meritorious mission from the Southern Barbarians: to persuade the thirty-six clans of Nanman to cease hostilities and secure peace on the border. This task was far more difficult than Feng Zikang’s mission to slay the Barbarian King Wuduyah. However, those of the Mohist School, seeking to preserve civilian lives, endeavor even when success seems impossible. As long as he did his utmost, even in failure, he would earn merit points. This was Mo Li’s first time leaving Linzi Mohist stronghold. Witnessing the suffering of the world deeply unsettled him. He traveled slowly along the way, aiding the distressed and helping those in need, performing many good deeds. Thus, although he had departed over a month before Feng Zikang, he had only just reached the Nanman region when they met here. A few days prior, he reached the village settlement of Longshi Gully. Seeing the villagers suffer from water scarcity, he felt compassion and taught them methods of mountain farming and hunting, even transmitting the technique for digging deep wells. Yesterday, he achieved success, striking a source of cool well water halfway up the mountain. The villagers were overjoyed and insisted he join their grand celebration that evening, urging him to sample their home-brewed fruit wine. He happily agreed to share their joy, venturing into the mountains to procure some game in preparation for a barbecue that evening, to be shared with the villagers. Who knew that after he left for only two or three hours, upon returning to Longshi Gully, he found every soul in the village—dozens of people from top to bottom—slain, not a single survivor! “Even a young child in the village, a mere six years old, was brutally killed. Truly…” Tears welled in Mo Li’s eyes; he was filled with grief and indignation.

This was the compassionate Mo School member. Feng Zikang nodded, “Daoist Mo’s conjecture is not wrong. This matter was certainly not the work of ordinary mortal bandits. Firstly, such slaughter cannot happen so swiftly; secondly, the village was poor, offering nothing worth robbing.” He pondered for a moment, “Yet this place is so remote. Even if some cultivators passed by, having no enmity with this settlement, they would not casually massacre mortals. This is rather strange…”

In the eyes of cultivators, mortals, though like ants, are the foundation of the world. Unless one practices some wicked art, they do not slaughter wantonly. Even initial-stage disciples are often required to help mortals slay demons and vanquish evil, which is a way to accumulate merit. “Daoist Mo, were there any anomalies at the site of the killing?” “Anomalies?” Mo Li frowned tightly. Last night, consumed by rage, he truly paid no attention to any clues, bolting out directly, searching for the murderer like a madman. After a full day of searching, he could only recall the ghastly state of the deceased but no peculiarities. “Then… shall we go take a look together?” Feng Zikang naturally cared little for the dead in the village, but Mo Li was the first cultivator from another sect he had encountered. He was keen to inquire about the Mohist School’s cultivation methods, so he feigned an air of enthusiastic assistance. “Then I thank you, Fellow Daoist!” Mo Li was profoundly grateful, feeling Feng Zikang to be a man of true righteousness and valor, a good fellow who dared to stand up for justice. He felt a strong urge to form a deep bond.

He led Feng Zikang through winding paths to a village settlement nestled halfway up the mountain.

The mountain paths here were rugged, and the soil barren—truly a desolate, poor village.

Communication with the outside world was difficult; the nearest village required a mountain trek of several dozen li. Feng Zikang, by controlling objects to fly, and Mo Li, with his swift movement divine ability, naturally arrived quickly. However, for the mortal villagers, going out or coming in would take at least half a day. With such difficult mountain roads, it was unlikely any bandits would inexplicably raid this poor village.

At the village entrance was a newly dug well, over which a winch had just been installed; the rope on the bucket was brand new.

Mo Li recalled the villagers’ ecstatic reaction when water was struck yesterday, and a sharp pang in his nose made him unable to look further. The bonfires for the evening celebration were already laid out.

The old village chief lay dead beside the pile of firewood, blood staining the dry kindling in a terrifying hue. Near him were the bodies of several men. Tied to a wooden stake were a pig and two chickens, evidently intended as fare to treat Mo Li that evening.

The pig was frothing at the mouth, panting heavily, yet still alive; the chickens were clucking and looked quite vigorous. The ones who were meant to kill them for food, however, were all dead. The bodies of the remaining villagers were scattered everywhere.

The doors of every household were flung open—Mo Li had forced them open in his overwhelming shock and grief while frantically searching for survivors. Alas, there was not a single living soul anywhere.

The eyes of the deceased bulged; their faces were contorted. Blood streamed from their seven orifices, all showing expressions of extreme panic, terror, and agony. Yet, there was not a single obvious wound on their bodies. Feng Zikang examined all seventy-plus corpses one by one, remaining silent. “Brother Feng, are there any clues?” Mo Li asked, brimming with hope.