Chapter 6

Seeing the furious village chief, one of the bandits stepped forward with a mocking smile.

"Didn't you hear what the leader said? Or do you really want to see what this tastes like?" he sneered, waving his sword just a few centimeters from the old man's neck.

The village chief, scared, stumbled backward and fell to the ground.

"Village Chief!!" Several voices shouted from behind him.

A handful of men—dressed in coarse clothing, wielding bows and axes—stepped forward, their expressions hardened.

"Hah! So, you actually want to fight?" The bandit taunted, eyeing the villagers who had come forward.

But none of them answered. Instead, they kept their eyes locked on him while quickly helping the village chief back to his feet.

"Are you alright, Village Chief?"

"Ahem, it's nothing, nothing. Don't worry," the village chief muttered, brushing off the concern. He steadied himself and tried to step forward again. "Let me talk to them a bit more—"

But the hands that had helped him up now held him back. As he looked around, he saw the same emotions reflected in many villagers' eyes—anger, resentment, and something even more dangerous… desperation.

Sigh…

He let out a deep breath at the realisation. The dwindling food supply had already worn them thin, and now, with these bandits blocking their only path forward, many had reached their breaking point.

Their patience, their fear—everything was hanging by a thread. And if that thread snapped…

Blood would be spilled.

"Why aren't you trash spea—" The bandit sneered, but before he could finish, his words were abruptly cut off.

Swish!

With a sharp tearing sound, an arrow sliced through the air. Before he could react, it lodged deep into his neck.

"—k… h-huh?" His voice gurgled as blood bubbled up his throat. His eyes widened in shock, as if he hadn't expected such an attack. A second later, his body collapsed backward with a dull thud.

For a moment, silence hung in the air. The other bandits, including their leader, were frozen in place—expressions of amusement still lingering on their faces, now twisted in disbelief.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

More arrows whistled through the air.

"Protect yourselves!!" the bandit leader roared, drawing his saber and slashing at the incoming projectiles.

Some bandits managed to dodge or suffered only minor injuries, but others weren't so lucky. With sickening splashes of red, several arrows found their mark—piercing vital spots and dropping them where they stood.

The bandit leader's eyes burned with fury as he watched his men fall. His face twisted into pure rage.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!!" he bellowed.

As if responding, he male villagers stepped forward, their expressions grim and resolute. Some clutched axes, others gripped hoes or bows—now freshly drawn and ready.

Among them stood the butcher, gripping his massive deboning knife in one hand, his gaze locked onto the bandits with a mix of vigilance and fury, as he told his son to join other non combatants.

"KILL THEM ALL!" the bandit leader roared, charging forward. His remaining men followed suit, their hesitation replaced by blind aggression.

"Brothers, fight! They leave us no choice!" a villager shouted, raising his axe high.

With that battle cry, the villagers surged forward, meeting the bandits head-on.

As the battle erupted, the butcher and several other strong villagers charged toward the bandit leader, while the rest clashed with the other bandits.

"Kill!" a villager roared, swinging his hoe down toward the bandit leader's head.

Clang!

With a swift motion, the bandit leader deflected the attack, sending the villager flying backward. He crashed onto the ground with a grunt.

"Take this!" the butcher bellowed, bringing his massive cleaver down in a vertical chop aimed at the bandit leader's side.

Clang!

But with inhuman speed, the bandit leader twisted his blade to the side, effortlessly blocking the attack. The sheer force sent the butcher staggering back. Seizing the moment, the bandit leader lunged forward, his blade flashing toward the butcher's torso.

Swish!

Just then, the sharp twang of a bowstring echoed.

"Got you!" a villager with a bow cheered, his voice brimming with triumph.

But his joy was short-lived.

As the arrow hurtled toward the bandit leader, the expected look of fear never appeared. Instead, his lips curled into a crazed grin—he didn't even flinch.

Spliech!

The sickening sound of flesh being torn rang out, but it wasn't from the bandit leader.

The butcher let out a cry of pain as blood splattered—his shoulder sliced open by the bandit leader's blade, leaving a deep, gory wound. Gritting his teeth, he staggered back, clutching his injured shoulder.

"Father!!" his son shouted, his voice filled with tension.

Meanwhile, the arrow—meant to be the villagers' hope—bounced harmlessly off the bandit leader's body with a metallic clang.

The villagers' hopeful expressions froze in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.

One among them, however, had a vacant, dead look in his eyes—Village Chief.

"It's over," he muttered hoarsely, as if he had just realized some sad truth.

And as if to confirm his words, another sickening splurt rang out.

A villager who had tried to attack from the side stood motionless—his head cleanly severed from his body. The bandit leader stood behind him, his blade dripping with fresh blood.

"HAHAHAHA! Come and die before your father!" the bandit leader roared, his voice echoing with madness as he swung his blade.

With a single slash, he cleaved a villager in two, splitting him from the middle. Blood sprayed across the dirt road, and a deathly silence fell over the villagers.

Even if they weren't well-versed in combat, after witnessing so many unnatural feats, they began to understand.

"H-He's a Body Refining Stage cultivator…" an old man among the villagers finally spoke, his voice dry and trembling with disbelief.

"Impossible! He's just a bandit!" a woman nearby protested, unwilling to accept the truth.

But the next moment silenced her.

A burly hunter from their village had crept up behind the bandit leader, gripping his crude sword tightly. With all his strength, he swung it at the bandit leader's neck.

Clang!

The blade struck—but instead of severing his head, it left only a shallow, fleshy wound.

The bandit leader sneered.

"DIE!"

With a casual backhand swing, his saber cut cleanly through the hunter's torso. The man gasped, his eyes widening in horror as his body separated in two. He struggled for a brief moment before falling still, lifeless.

From a distance, Chen Ping watched everything unfold, his expression calm—as if he had already expected this outcome the moment he realized the bandit leader was a Body Refining Stage cultivator.

At this stage, a cultivator's body was strengthened to the point where their skin became tougher than leather armor. Ordinary weapons could barely leave a scratch, making them near-invincible figures in the eyes of mortals armed with nothing but crude tools.

Of course, weak points like the eyes still existed. But with enhanced strength, speed, and reflexes, landing a clean hit was nearly impossible—unless he was overwhelmed by sheer numbers and worn down over time.

And this was just entry level of body refining stage.

If a cultivator advanced further, their body would grow even stronger, reinforcing those weak points. At higher levels of body refining stage, they could easily slaughter hundreds—if not thousands—of ordinary people without breaking a sweat.