He Yuzhu returns in Siheyuan

Chapter 867 Confident

Within half an hour, the valley floor was a river of blood, the soil stained a deep brown, broken bone blades, shattered furs, and fragments of magical artifacts scattered everywhere. Almost all the demon brothers had been wiped out. Only the fox demon remained, covered in wounds, his left arm twisted unnaturally, a deep, bone-revealing wound on his chest still bleeding. He leaned on a bone blade, barely able to stand, each breath excruciatingly painful, his vision blurring. He watched the humans approach, their cold gazes like knives stabbing at his heart. The ferocity in his eyes faded, replaced by a deep-seated fear. His voice trembled uncontrollably: "Please... spare me... I'll tell you anything... I know how many spiritual herbs the demons have hidden, I know where the mines are..."

The surrounding human cultivators were about to attack, their swords already flashing, but the leader stopped them with a raised hand. He slowly walked up to the fox demon, his black Daoist robe fluttering in the night wind, looking down at him as if he were an ant, a calculating smile playing on his lips: "Want to live? It's not hard. Tell me, where is the Dragon Clan hiding now? In which sea is their lair? If you tell me, I'll spare your life and even give you a bottle of healing pills."

A flicker of struggle crossed the fox demon's eyes. He hadn't forgotten the kindness the dragons had shown him when they were being hunted, but survival was paramount right now. He gritted his teeth, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and looked up to confirm, "You...you really will let me go? You're not lying to me?"

"I always keep my word." The leader's tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable pressure. Spiritual energy flowed around him, forming an invisible aura. "As long as you honestly tell me the Dragon Clan's territory, you can leave immediately. No one will stop you."

The fox demon was about to speak when a metallic, sweet taste suddenly welled up in his throat, like scalding lava. He looked down in disbelief and saw a small, emerald-green snake retracting its head from his chest. Its eyes were cold as glass, and dark red blood still clung to its fangs—it was the snake demon who had been hidden behind the rocks, unnoticed by anyone during the chaotic battle. A sharp pain instantly swept through his body; venom coiled around his heart like vines. The fox demon opened his mouth, as if to say something, but only managed a wheezing, gasping sound before collapsing heavily to the ground, lifeless, his eyes still wide open, filled with resentment.

The human leader frowned at the suddenly appearing snake, a fierce glint in his eyes. He was about to order its capture: "Seize it!" when the snake darted into the dense grass, its body blending seamlessly with the blades. With a few twists and turns, it vanished without a trace, leaving only a slight sway in the grass. He kicked the fox demon's corpse; it was already turning black, clearly indicating the snake venom was incredibly potent. The leader snorted coldly, his voice icy: "It seems the dragon race has more spies than I thought. Even such insignificant characters are willing to risk their lives for them." He turned to his men and said, "Search! Turn this area upside down. Even if you have to dig three feet into the ground, find that snake demon!"

At this moment, the human cultivators still harbored a degree of confidence. After all, the wave of demons they had just encountered was truly pathetic—several blue-faced, fanged wolf demons were cleaved in two by the sword light as soon as they pounced, collapsing to the ground howling and spewing hot black blood everywhere; even the bear that was said to have roamed the Black Wind Forest for many years, despite its intimidating size, was nothing more than a brute force charging blindly, and was finally pinned to the trunk of an old locust tree by the yellow talisman offered by the leader cultivator, howling in pain and scratching the bark bare with its claws.

"What's there to be afraid of with these little demons?" A young cultivator in a blue robe couldn't help but sneer, his longsword still dripping with demon blood. "I really don't know how the first batch of cultivators who came in were killed. They must have been greenhorns who had never seen blood before, scared out of their wits by a few wild dog-like demons."

More importantly, they were certain that the two dragon demons were severely injured. The scene they had glimpsed from afar at the valley entrance half an hour ago was still vivid in their minds—the deep, bone-revealing hole in Long Tian's chest, his scales turned outwards, and his flesh a mangled mess; Long Jiao dragged a lame hind leg, her steps unsteady, the injuries were unmistakable. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! If they could capture these two dragon demons and obtain their dragon cores, not only would the elders of the sect look at them differently and bestow countless resources upon them, but even breaking through their cultivation bottlenecks and gaining a hundred years of lifespan would be within their grasp.

So, emboldened, the group gripped their magical artifacts tightly and, following the faint lingering dragon energy in the air, trudged deeper into the forest. At first, they encountered no formidable creatures; only a few gray-furred wild rabbit demons darted by, which they easily slew, making them feel that this forest was nothing special. But the deeper they went, the thicker the surrounding fog became, and the more trouble they encountered.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound came from the roadside bushes, and a swarm of poisonous bees sprang out. Each bee was the size of a fist, its stinger gleaming darkly, like a silver needle coated with deadly poison. The stung cultivators instantly swelled up, their skin puffing out as if inflated. Soon, they clutched their necks, collapsed to the ground, convulsing, black blood trickling from their mouths. Hidden beneath the thick layer of fallen leaves were dark green, thorny vines. If one wasn't careful, they would be silently entangled. The barbs on the vines carried a paralyzing toxin, and by the time one realized it, they were already suffocating. The more they struggled, the deeper the barbs pierced. By the time they managed to break free, half their bodies were limp, and they couldn't even hold onto their magical artifacts. Even the air was filled with a faint, pungent poisonous gas, smelling like rotting wild fruit, a sweet but fishy odor. The cultivators with lower cultivation levels began to feel dizzy and unsteady on their feet after walking only a short distance, and finally collapsed straight into the mist, never to rise again.

In just half an hour, the team of over thirty had lost nearly ten members. The remaining human cultivators finally panicked, their arrogance replaced by bone-chilling fear. "How can these little demons be so cunning?" a cultivator with a thick beard cursed, panting heavily, barely able to stand with his broadsword on the ground. "They never fight head-on; they just hide in the shadows and shoot arrows, wearing us down and testing our mental strength!"

Indeed, those seemingly insignificant lesser demons—the venomous spotted snakes, the thorny ghost vines, and the miasma-spewing poisonous mushrooms—coordinated with practiced ease, targeting the lone and weak, like a swarm of bloodthirsty ants, slowly eroding their strength. This was not a good sign. If this continued, before they even encountered the dragon demon, they would perish at the hands of these "trash," leaving not even bones behind.

Deep within the mist, beneath a thousand-year-old banyan tree, Long Tian sat cross-legged. The tree's trunk required more than ten people to encircle it; its branches and leaves were lush and verdant, its massive canopy blocking out the sun, making it difficult even for the mist to penetrate. A faint, cyan-gold dragon aura swirled around him, flowing slowly like ripples on water. His eyes were closed, clearly indicating he was in a state of complete focus on recovery. Although the wound on his chest had stopped bleeding, the severed dragon tendons were slowly healing. Each breath he took pulled at his bones, producing a soft "creaking" sound. Fine beads of sweat covered his forehead, sliding down his sharply defined cheeks.