Ch. 42 - Headfirst Into The Mud

Time flew by. Ye Fan and Pang Bo had already spent four months studying cultivation at Desolate Spirit Cliff. On this day, the elder once again bestowed medicinal liquid upon them.

The tiny jade bottle, smooth and crystal clear, was no taller than two inches, with a base barely an inch in diameter. The amount of liquid inside was quite limited.

This medicine was a vivid green and had a unique herbal fragrance. It was especially effective in helping open up the Bitter Sea, saving cultivators much time and effort. It was said to be refined from the essence of a hundred different herbs, akin to the life essence stored within the Life Wheel, and was called Hundred-Grass Liquid.

"Whoosh."

The teaching elder on the stone cliff turned into a divine rainbow and vanished into the depths of Desolate Spirit Grotto-Heaven in the blink of an eye.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo stowed away their jade bottles and were about to leave, when a boy around fifteen or sixteen swaggered over and rudely blocked their path.

"Lend me two bottles of Hundred-Grass Liquid," he said, reaching out without giving them a chance to refuse.

"Who are you, and why should we give it to you?" Pang Bo brushed aside his hand and looked at him with a sideways glance.

Ye Fan noticed the fear in the eyes of the nearby disciples, many of them retreated a few steps. The boy already held five or six bottles in his hand, making it clear he’d snatched them from others.

When Pang Bo brushed aside his hand, the boy's expression darkened. "You dare glare at me?"

Ye Fan and Pang Bo didn’t want trouble. They were new here, and most people were cultivators. Avoiding conflict was the wise move. They stepped back, hoping to walk away.

"You think you can just leave quietly? Did I say you could?" the boy sneered, grabbing Pang Bo’s wrist and reaching for the jade bottle.

Although Pang Bo wasn’t as strong as Ye Fan, he was still far stronger than most low-level cultivators. With a quick shake of his arm, he sent the boy stumbling back, nearly falling.

Humiliated, the teenager shouted, "You dare lay a hand on me? I’ll make sure you two are bedridden for three months!"

Just then, several other teens around the same age pushed through the crowd. The surrounding disciples backed away in fear, clearly recognizing them. Each newcomer held six or seven bottles, likely also taken by force.

They quickly surrounded Ye Fan and Pang Bo. The humiliated boy sneered, "Teach them a lesson. Make sure they’re down for three months."

"Where there are people, there’s strife, even among cultivators," Ye Fan muttered. He said no more, stepping forward. A boy lunged at him and was immediately kicked aside.

Pang Bo snorted. "Stealing from your own peers? If we don’t teach you a lesson now, who knows what worse things you’ll do in the future?" He struck harder than Ye Fan, slapping down the others one by one like bowling pins.

"You dare hit me?" the instigator howled, his face swollen, glaring at them before running off. "You’re dead!"

Without a connection to the divine source in the Life Wheel, a cultivator is only marginally stronger than a regular person. Against Ye Fan and Pang Bo, they were nothing.

Meanwhile, in the distance, a teen around 14 or 15 whispered to a man in his twenties, "Your little brother’s a disgrace. He got thrashed instantly."

The older youth looked embarrassed but was clearly wary of the younger boy. "Those two don’t look like much. Is this test really necessary?"

"It was my great-uncle’s idea. He heard they might’ve taken some divine medicine," the younger boy replied coldly. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t care about nobodies like them."

The older man shivered at the mention of the great-uncle, clearly fearing him. "Even if they did, they’ve already digested it. What does your great-uncle plan to do?"

"He thinks there’s still potent medicinal energy left in their bodies. Too bad he only heard about them recently, he’s furious he didn’t find them sooner."

"Even if there's residual medicine, you can’t just extract it, can you?"

"You can’t extract it directly," the boy said with a sinister grin. "But you can drain their blood. Or better yet, refine their entire bodies into medicine. That’s what my great-uncle intends."

The older man went pale. The old man they were talking about, a refining master and a Desolate Spirit elder, was infamous for his cruelty. If he had his eyes on someone as an ingredient, they were doomed.

The boy ordered coldly, "Your useless brother failed. You go test them, see if they’re worth turning into pills."

"Understood. I’ll go right away."

Ye Fan and Pang Bo had been keeping a low profile, but someone had still set their sights on them. As they tried to leave, a man in his twenties blocked their way.

He radiated faint light, clear evidence he had already mastered some mystical arts.

"Brother, you have to punish them for me!" the instigator teen barked. The others shouted too, emboldened by their backup.

"Break their limbs and feed them to the fish!"

"Make them kneel and kowtow a thousand times!"

…

Their arrogance swelled now that someone powerful had arrived.

Ye Fan frowned, not because of the taunts, but because something felt off. Why are they targeting us? he wondered.

"Why did you attack my brother?" the older youth demanded.

"Which eye of yours saw me hit him?" Pang Bo snapped. At this point, there was no point pretending. Even if they backed down, they’d still be punished.

"What do you want?" Ye Fan asked bluntly.

"You attacked my brother. I’m here to make you pay," the man said coldly, approaching.

A crowd had gathered at a distance to watch, but no one dared intervene. Most were new disciples and feared this man who could already manifest radiant energy.

"Break their legs and make them kneel!"

"Throw them into the lake!"

The teenage mob howled again.

"Whoosh!"

The glowing youth darted forward like a ghost, his jade-like hand slicing toward Ye Fan’s neck like a blade.

He didn’t go all out, he thought the attack would be enough to floor Ye Fan. But to his surprise, Ye Fan dodged smoothly and caught his wrist mid-strike.

"Let go!"

Shocked, the man tried to break free, but Ye Fan’s grip was like iron. His hand throbbed with pain.

"Boom!"

Pang Bo slammed a heavy punch into the man’s back, making him cough blood.

Ye Fan then swung him around like a scarecrow and smashed him into the ground.

"Boom!"

Dust flew, and the earth shook. The youth’s glowing aura shattered. He screamed, blood pouring from his mouth as he convulsed on the ground.

The onlookers were stunned. Ye Fan had crushed a cultivator who’d already learned mystical arts, and done so with ease.

It wasn’t that the man lacked power, he just hadn’t had the chance to use it. Ye Fan, able to lift thousands of pounds with one arm, possessed the strength of a beast. Even mystical arts might not withstand such raw power.

"You picked this fight, lied about us attacking, and now claim we hurt you? Fine. Now let’s make it true," Pang Bo growled. The mob tried to run but were blocked by the crowd.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Pang Bo knocked them down one by one, slapping them mercilessly.

"What was that you said? Break our legs? Feed us to the fish? Make us kneel? You little punks must be tired of living!"

Slap after slap, their faces swelled like pigs. They screamed in pain.

"You haven’t even learned a single mystical art and you want to act like bullies? You think you're immortals already?"

Pang Bo kicked them around like rag dolls, growing more satisfied with every blow.

"Why are you targeting us?" Ye Fan demanded, kicking the glowing youth again. He writhed on the ground, bleeding.

"Not talking? Then I’ll give you a ‘headfirst into the mud’ special!" Ye Fan shouted, kicking the man into the air like a spear.

"Good idea!" Pang Bo grinned. He hoisted five or six of the teens at once and headed toward the lotus pond nearby.

"No! Put us down!"

"Help! They’re going to kill us!"

"Please, let us go!"

But Pang Bo ignored them and hurled them into the pond with all his might. The thick mud ensured they landed headfirst, legs kicking in the air.

"Careful, don’t kill them," Ye Fan warned.

"No worries. They’re cultivators now, even without arts, they can hold their breath for at least half an hour."

"Still not talking? Want to try a head-dive too?" Ye Fan asked, booting the youth again.

Pang Bo strode over. "Forget asking, just toss him."

Ye Fan didn’t argue. With a heave, he hurled the man like a javelin.

"Thud!"

The youth landed headfirst in the mud, with only his legs sticking out, kicking wildly.

"What a freak!"

"He looks so gentle, just eleven or twelve years old, but he’s a monster in strength!"

The crowd buzzed. Though shocked, many felt vindicated, those bullies had finally gotten what they deserved.

Suddenly, the crowd parted nervously as several people approached. A boy, 14 or 15, walked over with a dark expression. Several youths in their twenties followed him, glowing with power.

"That’s Han Feiyu, Elder Han’s grandson..."

"His grand-uncle is also an elder and a master of alchemy..."

"Shh! Don’t talk about him, you’ll bring disaster on yourself!"

Han Feiyu, face cold, stepped forward and said, "Do you think Desolate Spirit Grotto-Heaven is your personal playground? You attack people in public as if you’re law enforcers?"

Ye Fan and Pang Bo ignored him and looked at the pond.

Han Feiyu’s face grew even darker. He said to his followers, "Get rid of these eyesores."

Ye Fan turned around. "Big words. So it was you behind all this. No need to waste time, let’s plant you in the mud too."

Han Feiyu’s eyes gleamed with cold light as he whispered, "Looks like I’ll have to deliver two corpses to my great-uncle..."

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