Chương 358: Spoils and a Debt of Blood

Back in the relative safety of the Blackstone Gully outpost, he sat cross-legged in the room he'd been given. The floor before him was littered with the spoils of his recent engagements: dozens of storage rings from Ironhide Garo's forces and the commanders at Talon's Peak Pass. With no Golden Shell Guild to efficiently appraise, liquidate, and convert this chaotic mess into spirit stones, the chore fell to him. It was tedious work and one he was not used to.

He methodically broke the spiritual imprints, his spiritual senses cataloging the contents of each ring. He picked up Garo's first, a heavy crude iron band. The contents were predictable: earth-aspected armors, a respectable pile of mid-grade spirit stones, pills, and several manuals on defensive earth techniques. He set it aside. The rest was a jumble of low-grade pills, miscellaneous weapons and personal effects. It was a far cry from the terrifying, invaluable collection he had envisioned.

Once the sorting was complete, Li Yu did not immediately rest. He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the events of the battle. Not the fight itself—Garo, even at the Second Level, had been no match for his soul attack and Void arts—but the aftermath. His impulsive lie of needing their faith to empower his attack. He'd said it as a convenient, in-the-moment excuse to explain his power, a line that fit the "cult" persona. He never imagined what actually came out of it. He felt nothing of course.

The chanting had offered no power, no surge, no warm energy. It was just noise. His "Leviathan's Strike" was his own. Yet, Torin Stonehand, a top-ranked disciple himself had seen it as "gathering power." The entire outpost now believed they had participated in the kill, that their faith was a tangible weapon he could wield. The absurdity of it was staggering. He had inadvertently created the very myth Jian Xuan had been screaming about.

The legend of "Little Crab" wasn't just built on his strength; it was now built on a complete falsehood that everyone except him believed. Using the cult was a weapon, the results at Talon's Peak proved that but it was a bizarre and quite uncontrollable one. It was a headache but a useful one. He sighed internally, sinking into his own cultivation, circulating his true Qi. Hours later, as dusk settled he emerged from his room.

As he walked the main path, cultivators would stop their work briefly to look at him and give him a nod of thanks. He spotted a group at a long table outside the 'Sturdy Pickaxe,' the outpost's tavern. It was Torin Stonehand, the patrol leader Roric, and several outpost elders, their voices loud and celebratory. The moment he appeared, all conversation paused briefly. Torin shot to his feet, his face still flushed with fervor hurried over.

"Commander Little Crab!" His voice was loud.

"Please, join us! You honor our humble table!" They moved slightly to clear some space by the table, a disciple wiping the seat clean with his own sleeve. Li Yu, seeing no way to refuse without causing a scene, gave a slight nod and sat.

"Please," Li Yu said, his voice calm.

"Continue." His quiet words broke the spell. Torin grinned, motioning for a server.

"You must try the local fare, Commander! It's rough but it's the best the gully has to offer!" Plates of simple, hearty food and a heavy mug of dark ale were placed before him.

"Gully-Stone Roasted Boar," Torin said, pointing to a platter of dark meat.

"We hunt them in the foothills. The blackstone here holds the heat, makes it fall-apart tender." If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Li Yu took a piece. It was smoky, rich. Delicious.

"And this! Ironcap Stir-fry," another elder pushed a bowl of fungi forward.

"Grows in the ore tunnels. Good for the meridians." He tried it. Earthy, peppery and also delicious. He took a sip of the ale. It was thick, bitter and strong.

"Blackstone Bitter," Torin said, beaming. As he ate the conversation resumed around him They recounted the terror of the siege, the despair as the barrier cracked.

"We truly thought it was the end, Commander," one of the disciples at the table said said, his voice thick with emotion.

"When you came... when you chanted... Then when we chanted... I've never felt anything like it. And then Garo... he just fell from the sky."

"It was the faith!" Torin boomed, his eyes alight.

"I told them! We lent you our strength! We all felt it when you gathered the power! We participated in the miracle!" Li Yu merely took another sip of his ale, his expression unreadable. He didn't know how to answer them, thinking his words would only add fuel to the fire. He gave them a cheerful smile and a nod instead, enjoying the food and drink. The food was good, the drink strong. The gratitude, while wrapped in a suffocating blanket of delusion, was genuine. It was a strange, almost surreal moment for Li Yu.

Far away, in a chamber of unlit obsidian deep within a mountain fortress the mood was the precise opposite. The air was frigid, heavy with demonic Qi and a palpable, simmering rage. A massive table, carved from a single block of black crystal, dominated the room. A glowing crimson map of the southern territories was projected onto its surface, littered with markers of lost assets. Three figures surrounded it. One was a hulking brute of a man, encased in spiked jet-black armor.

His helmet sat on the table, revealing a face covered in a lattice of ritualistic scars. He was the Armored One, a general of the new demonic alliance. Another was a woman, deathly pale, with eyes that glowed a flat, blood-red. She wore robes of crimson silk and tapped a single, long fingernail on the table, the click... click... click... echoing in the oppressive silence. The third was a being of shadow, a slender figure whose form seemed to constantly blur and flow, as if made of cohesive smoke.

Only two pinpricks of cold, blue light suggested eyes.

"Gone," the Armored One growled, his voice like grinding stones.

"Ironhide Garo. Confirmed dead at Blackstone Gully. Executed by the one called 'Little Crab.'" The being of shadow spoke, his voice a dry rustle of leaves.

"That is the second Second Level Soul Formation expert we have lost in less than a week. Commander Borlag's detachment in the Echoing Chasm was also annihilated. The perpetrator was the one known as 'The Loud One, Jian Xuan.' He was... reportedly singing the entire time." The Red-Eyed Woman's nail stopped tapping.

"Do not forget the true catastrophe," she hissed, her voice silk-over-steel.

"Aethelgard. Three Soul Formation experts, including the Duke himself. Wiped out. And... Vespertine. Our single greatest master of poisons. Gone. All of them." She looked up, her red eyes burning.

"And the common thread?" The Armored One slammed a massive, gauntleted fist onto the crystal table. A web of cracks instantly spread from the point of impact.

"THEM!" he roared, the sound shaking dust from the ceiling.

"This DAMN CRAB CULT! Five! Five Soul Formation experts! We don't have an endless supply of Soul Formation masters! It takes centuries to cultivate one or centuries to find one willing to turn! They are our strategic assets, and this... this circus of chanting fools is slaughtering them like cattle!"

"This is a debt of blood," the Red-Eyed Woman agreed, her voice smooth and cold as ice.

"They have humiliated our forces. They have stalled the Master's great plan. They must be scoured from the earth, root and stem."

"Is that... wise?" The dry, rustling voice of the Shadowy One cut through their rage. The other two turned to him, their killing intent palpable. The shadow-being did not flinch.

"Our resources are finite. Our primary objective is the completion of the plan. All else is secondary. This cult... is an unknown variable. From our reports, their power is incomprehensible. The one known as 'Khaos' at Aethelgard killed the Duke, a Fifth Level expert, without batting an eye.

'Jian Xuan' fights like a man possessed, and this 'Little Crab' kills Soul Formation experts while he is still in the Core Formation realm. Is it wise to seek immediate, emotional retribution against such an entity or should we... plan around them? Focus on our true objective."

"Coward!" the Armored One spat.

"You would have us hide from a bunch of shell-worshippers?"

"You are a coward!" the Red-Eyed Woman yelled, her pale face flushing.

"We fear no one! We are the harbingers of the new age! This 'cult' is an infestation and it will be burned out. They worship a false god. This is a debt of blood that will be repaid!" The Armored One nodded, his scarred face a mask of cold fury.

"She is right. Let them play their games. Once the plan is complete... once the true demons are here... this Crab Cult will be the first to pay."