Ch. 350 - Let Them Kill

“It’s Mr. Fang!”

“Mr. Fang, you’re here at last!”

The second they saw Fang Xiu, the group hit the ground, foreheads banging dirt in a wild scramble to beg.

Fang Xiu’s eyebrow lifted. He didn’t think they’d cave this quick—just a few days, and they were already gutless.

Then again, it made sense for the Land Between. Cut off from the world, living here was a daily slog that ground pride to dust. Dignity? Useless.

And now they’d figured out that tying themselves to a heavy hitter like him might be their quickest ticket out. With Taoties tearing through Specters, a billion Spirit Money bills didn’t seem so crazy.

“Sir, we’ll follow you—say sorry, pay up, whatever! Just don’t end us!”

“Yeah, Sir, we’ve got skills! Fourth-tiers, fifth-tiers—we can be your hands, your tools!”

Fang Xiu watched them grovel, a far cry from the big talk they’d strutted around with before. He knew their game: loyal now, but they’d turn on him the minute they saw a crack.

Not that it mattered. He didn’t need them. Fifth-tiers? They couldn't they stack up to his Taotie army anyway.

In his mind, he ran the numbers: seven fourth-tiers, three fifth-tiers. Good fuel. Eating them could bump him right to fourth-tier.

But he held back. There was a guess he wanted to check first.

With a quick burst, the black fire wings on his back flared out, flames curling up his body. He hopped off the Taotie, gliding down into Whitestone, landing smooth in front of the group.

They flinched, heads dipping lower, fear pouring off them.

Before they could choke out more begging, Fang Xiu dropped a line that stopped them cold. “The Taoties can’t step into Whitestone during the day. So right now’s your best window to take me out.”

The words landed hard, stirring up a tangle of thoughts in their heads.

He pushed it further. “And no Specters roam Whitestone in daylight. Meaning I can’t tap them to keep myself unkillable.”

Lu Ziming and the others squirmed, faces twisting uncomfortably. Still, nobody budged. They stayed on their knees.

No one here was slow. Making it this far in the Land Between sharpened you—maybe too much. The sharper they got, the more they overanalyzed—Fang Xiu wouldn’t just toss them his weak spots like that, they believed.

They’d sniffed this out days back, even kicked around a plan: if Fang Xiu wouldn’t take their white flag, trick him into Whitestone and jump him. But before they could move, he’d spelled it out himself. Now they were stuck, doubting every step.

“Gave you a shot, and you still can’t do a thing,” Fang Xiu said, shaking his head with a hint of letdown.

Then he struck, driving a boot straight into Lu Ziming’s face. The kick flung him back, blood and spit flying as he crashed into the dirt.

Lu Ziming groaned, pain burning through him, but he didn’t dare swing back. He clawed his way up, dropping to his knees again.

That single hit stamped out the last sparks of fight in the group. They figured Fang Xiu had to be hiding something—why else would he stroll into their turf and start throwing kicks?

Fang Xiu hadn’t stretched the truth once. The Taoties couldn’t break into Whitestone during the day. No Specters roamed here for him to feed on. This was their perfect moment to take him down.

He’d laid it out straight—no tricks.

Too bad none of them had the nerve to grab it.

Lu Ziming forced a bloody grin, spit and foam flecking his teeth. “Sir, I’m for real this time. I’ll own it—I messed up big. Thought you were an easy mark, so I pushed you. That’s the game here: winners take it all, losers hit the dirt. Turns out, I’m less than nothing next to you. I just want to breathe. Name your price—any price—and I’ll pay. A sharp guy like you knows a live fifth-tier beats a dead one, right?”

WHAM!

Another kick launched Lu Ziming back, two teeth bouncing free as he sprawled.

“You schooling me now?” Fang Xiu’s tone stayed even, almost lazy.

“No, Sir!” Lu Ziming clawed back to his knees, head dipped so low Fang Xiu couldn’t catch the flash of fury he couldn’t bury.

Fang Xiu’s eyes slid over the group, calm and sure. “Five million each. That’s the cost to keep breathing.”

“Five million?!” A fourth-tier’s voice cracked, jumping high with shock. “That’s too—”

WHOOSH!

Black flames roared around Fang Xiu, and he blinked out. A split second later, a dark fire flared next to the loudmouth. Fang Xiu stepped from the blaze, silver flashing as his Scalpel sliced through the air and sank into the guy’s arm.

The fourth-tier twitched, gut yelling to hit back—but he saw it was just his arm. 

Clenching his jaw, he took it. Not deadly. Better to eat it than push his luck.

Wrong call.

The second the Scalpel dug in—“AHHH!”—a scream ripped out, rough and deep, like his throat was tearing apart. It froze the air.

The group stared, gut-punched, as the guy thrashed—veins popping, eyes bulging—then crumpled dead in a twisted pile, pain carved into his last look.

In moments, he’d faced a torment none of them could wrap their heads around.

Fear clamped down harder. One strike, and a fourth-tier was out? Savage.

Fang Xiu knew the score, though. Fourth-tiers weren’t that soft—if the guy had popped his Domain, getting near him would’ve been a pain.

Fifth-tiers? Trickier still. With Mindflare running, his Scalpel wouldn’t touch them. 

That’s why he leaned on calling up his “wife” or the Specter God over brute force. At third-tier, he couldn’t crank his pain trick to max—not yet. For now, it was stand-ins or nothing.

He sucked the dead fourth-tier’s Spiritual Energy dry, leaving zip behind.

The group’s looks shifted—straight-up horror now, like they were eyeing a beast. Shaking. Quivering. Fang Xiu made Specters seem cuddly.

Lu Ziming even swore inside: 'Headquarters tapped a damn monster for Chief Commander.'

“Sir, here’s six million Spirit Money—my whole pile! Check it out!” Tong Yang cut in, shoving out a wad of bills.

To grease the wheels, he’d thrown in an extra million, angling for Fang Xiu’s good side.

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