Without Mercy

The one who had seized the old woman was Han Ming. His expression was calm, yet his eyes radiated a chilling pressure that seemed to freeze the very air.

"W-Who are you!?" the old woman cried out in terror, struggling in vain to break free. But escape was never an option.

Han Ming paid no attention to her screams. His hand touched her forehead as a surge of spiritual energy entered her body, forcefully scouring her memories.

"AAAGHHH! Wh-What are you doing to me?!"

The old woman screamed in agony as her memories were dragged out in an instant. Scene after scene flooded Han Ming's consciousness, vividly revealing the truth behind her actions.

He saw everything. This old woman was just one among many villagers who had turned Rong Lixian's blood into a commodity to be traded for their own gain.

None of the villagers who received the girl's blood were truly impoverished or desperate, as they had claimed. They traded the blood for money to indulge in gambling, liquor, brothels, and countless other vices. Not once did they feel any remorse. To them, what they did was simply the easiest way to make money nothing more.

Han Ming stared at the old woman, his gaze void of emotion.

"...…."

The old woman trembled uncontrollably. She didn't understand what was happening, but one thing was clear this man before her was no human. He was a demon far more terrifying than any beast she had ever encountered.

"P-Please forgive me! I don't even know what I did to upset you!"

Han Ming didn't answer. He simply snapped his fingers.

Boom!

Her body was instantly reduced to ashes, disintegrated without a trace.

After inspecting her memories, Han Ming uncovered an unsettling truth. One of the villagers had once stumbled upon Rong Lixian, severely wounded and clinging to life. When he touched her, his severed finger miraculously regenerated.

At first, he was shocked and in disbelief but soon, greed overtook him.

He brought her back to the village, claiming to be treating her out of kindness. But in reality, he only wanted to harvest her blood and sell it.

In the beginning, he traded her blood for valuables among the villagers. But as word of her miraculous healing properties spread, greed infected the entire village like a plague.

Eventually, they turned on him.

The man who had first discovered Rong Lixian murdered by his own people so they could monopolize the source of her blood.

At first, only a handful of people sought the girl's blood for the purpose of healing injuries or curing illnesses. But it wasn't long before greed consumed the hearts of every villager. They began stealing her blood in secret while she slept. When she started to suspect something and attempted to refuse, they responded with pitiful expressions and sweet, honeyed lies. Then they locked her away in a small hut, draining her blood day after day. Each night before sleep, they would scheme what new lie to tell Rong Lixian the next morning.

Because she was kindhearted and honest, Rong Lixian never doubted their stories. She truly believed they were suffering. And so, she willingly gave them her blood, thinking she was helping people in need. But in truth, her blood had become nothing more than a commodity for trade. Some villagers used it for personal healing, others sold it to traveling merchants, and some used it to enhance their own cultivation. All of them were complicit in this wickedness, united by the irresistible profits they gained.

Han Ming, who had learned all of this from the old woman's memories, remained utterly expressionless. His face was as calm as still water, untroubled by pity or anger.

At that very moment, a demonic aura surged violently in the center of the village, causing the townsfolk to freeze in fear. They turned toward the source and saw four demonic cultivators standing at the village square. Three of them were at the Spirit Foundation stage, while the fourth had reached the Golden Core realm. Although their cultivation wasn't particularly high, to the common villagers, they were like death gods descending upon the earth, capable of slaughtering everyone in an instant.

"Come out, all of you!" one of the demonic cultivators shouted, his voice echoing coldly. "Whoever can tell me where that sacred blood came from, I'll spare your life. As for the rest of you… you will all die."

With a single sentence, the entire village was thrown into a frenzy of fear. Instead of banding together to protect one another, the villagers began to betray their neighbors without hesitation.

"I know! Please spare me!"

...

...

"I know too! Please, let me live!"

...

...

"I know! I'll tell you everything!!"

Cries for mercy echoed from every direction. One after another, the villagers revealed Rong Lixian's location, never once pausing to remember that the very girl they were selling out had given them her blood every day, lifting them out of starvation and poverty and giving them the lives they now enjoyed.

"I know! She's in that hut over there!" an old man shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Drag her out," the demonic cultivator ordered coldly.

The moment the order was given, the villagers surged toward Rong Lixian's hut. They banged loudly on the door, then smashed it open without the slightest regard for her startled cries. The girl, already weak and frail, had no strength to resist.

"What are you doing!?" Rong Lixian cried out, her voice laced with fear.

But instead of an answer, her hair was seized and her body dragged out roughly. Several villagers grabbed her arms, legs, and torso to ensure she wouldn't be able to struggle or escape.

"Don't resist! You'll get us all killed!" one of the villagers barked, slapping her across the face hard enough to draw blood.

Dazed, Rong Lixian's eyes filled with confusion and pain. Her body trembled, her heart even more so.

"Why…?" she tried to ask, but no one cared to answer anymore.

They dragged her forward, forcing her to kneel before the group of demonic cultivators. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she looked up at their faces, unable to grasp what kind of fate awaited her.

One of the demonic cultivators sneered down at her, curling his lip in disgust. "Seriously? This ugly wretch? She's the one with sacred blood?"

Far above, Han Ming observed it all in silence.

Her face was covered in bruises, her body frail and on the verge of collapse, golden hair once beautiful now cut in patches. And yet, in her eyes, there was still a faint light that refused to fade.

She gazed at the villagers she had once helped, her expression filled with heartbreak. Tears streamed silently down her face.

Her heart was flooded with questions that would never be answered. Why? Why would they do this to her? What did she do wrong? Was the kindness she gave truly worth so little?

But no one cared to listen. Not anymore. All the villagers could do was keep their heads down, desperate to survive.