Chapter Twenty-Two: Punishing the Three Demons

The mummified man had a head that was pointed at the top and wide at the base, his narrow eyes nearly meeting in the center. His nose was flat, with only a single nostril of notable width, from which a tuft of hair extended all the way to his upper lip. Most repulsive of all, his face was covered in festering sores, some of which had burst open, emitting a faint stench.

To the right stood a man clad in a white robe embroidered with red flowers, his figure reasonably well-proportioned but exuding a heavy scent of powder and rouge. His pale face was caked with thick makeup, and his delicate features had a feminine softness. If one only glanced at his face and not his body, he could easily be mistaken for a woman. However, his eyes constantly betrayed a lecherous glint as they darted about the room.

Leng Tian found it odd—these three called themselves the Flower-Plucking Demons? The man with the rouge could perhaps pass, but the other two, considering their appearances, fancied themselves capable of seducing women? He couldn’t help but sneer inwardly at the thought.

The three strolled leisurely out of the tavern. As soon as they left, raucous laughter erupted inside, some even pounding the tables in mirth. Watching the trio depart, Leng Tian drained his last cup of wine, paid his bill, and slipped out to follow them into the bustling crowd.

They wove through streets and alleys until they entered a sprawling mansion. Observing from a distance as the three disappeared inside, Leng Tian took note of the location, had a look around, and then left.

In recent days, the capital had seen an influx of martial artists. Leng Tian wandered about, stopping to watch whenever a fight broke out, and visited several weapon shops. Finally, at a place called “Hundred-Forging,” he commissioned five knives identical to his own Blood Trace, leaving a deposit of fifty taels and arranging a date for pickup. By then, night had fallen.

He bought plenty of food and wine, returned to the Purgatory, and called a halt to the others’ training. The five of them were in high spirits; after eating what he brought, they tumbled into exhausted sleep, vowing not to leave Purgatory until they had mastered the blade techniques.

Ever since they learned that Leng Tian had slain a profound martial expert by relying solely on his own cultivation, each of them had secretly resolved to train harder, to strive for entry into the true martial hall as soon as possible.

Glancing at Duoming, Leng Tian said nothing, tossed him a few jars of wine, and left the Purgatory.

The city was lively even at night. Leng Tian once again came to the mansion the three had entered earlier. Finding a secluded spot outside the wall, he vaulted quietly into the courtyard.

It was a small side compound. His spiritual sense swept the grounds—no one was about. He passed through the courtyard, circled a few rooms, and made his way to the rear, where he found a light shining in one room and the lilting voices of women drifting from within.

Moving without a sound, Leng Tian approached the window and peered through the open shutter. Inside, the three demons were naked, pressed atop unclothed women.

He noticed that the three women’s eyes were glazed—they seemed barely conscious, passively yielding to the men’s advances. Scanning the room, he spotted several bottles and jars on a table, one already uncorked. Clearly, these were drugs the trio used to prey on women.

In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the three men reached their peak and collapsed, panting in exhaustion atop the women. The fat one rolled off onto his back, and Leng Tian, curious, glanced between the man’s legs—what came to mind was “bean sprout.” The other two followed suit, prompting Leng Tian to silently label them: bean sprout, bamboo shoot, and noodle.

He felt a deep sense of pity for the three women, to have been defiled by such men—disgraced in name, but not in truth.

After a brief rest, the three got dressed and left for the front courtyard. Leng Tian concealed himself until they were gone, then slipped inside, tossed a quilt over the women to cover their nakedness, and gathered up the bottles from the table, a mischievous smile flickering across his face.

In the main hall of the front yard, the fat man squatted and lifted a floor tile, revealing an iron handle. He pressed it, and with a creak, the ground parted to reveal an underground passage.

The three exchanged glances, then descended the stairs one by one. After a moment, Leng Tian appeared by the entrance, considered briefly, and followed them down.

The staircase descended some ten meters to a corridor lit brightly by ever-burning lamps along both sides. Leng Tian floated silently forward, and soon reached the end: a vast underground palace, where the three stood together.

“So much gold and silver!” Leng Tian was momentarily stunned by the scene before him. Though wealth meant little to him, even he could not help but marvel at such a mountain of treasure.

Before the three, a towering pile of gold, silver, and jewels gleamed. “Brother Sun, am I dreaming? How did you find so much treasure?” The mummified man was so excited he stammered, barely restraining himself from leaping onto the pile and sleeping there forever.

“Heh heh… It’s simple. I happened to acquire a treasure map by chance. Otherwise, why would I have bought this mansion? It was all for this treasure!” the fat man replied smugly.

“So, Brother Sun, you’ve brought us here to…” the powdered man asked, his voice full of insinuation.

“Of course, to share it with you both! How’s that for generosity?” the fat man declared proudly.

“Brother Sun, you are truly generous,” the mummified man crooned in his oily voice.

“These treasures are mine now,” Leng Tian stepped forward, eyes cold as ice. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” the mummified man shrieked, jumping in alarm.

“Young man, you’ve got some nerve, breaking into my mansion! Are you tired of living?” The fat man spread his stubby legs in a fighting stance, the three hairs on his face trembling.

“Oh my, such a handsome fellow,” the powdered man exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing light.

Leng Tian had no desire to waste words with this scum. In a flash, he subdued all three before they could react.

He sealed their dantian and dislocated their limbs, then, disgusted, wiped his hands clean. Producing the drugs they used on women, he glared at them in loathing. “You’ve met your retribution tonight. I won’t kill you, but you’ll get a taste of the pleasure your own poison brings.”

He first forced the fat man to swallow the drug, then the mummified man, but found the bottle empty by the time he reached the powdered man. So, he poured the entire remaining supply into his mouth.

Having done all this, Leng Tian swept all the treasure into his Purgatory, dragged the three out of the underground palace, and, under cover of darkness, dumped them onto the street. After all the commotion, the drugs began to take effect.

He reset their joints, and, seeing the flushed look on their faces, left without a backward glance.

That night, the nearby residents were kept awake by their wolf-like howls of agony and pleasure.