Chapter 99: The Gourmet

A massive limestone cave appeared before Ling Chi’s eyes, spanning several hundred yards in circumference. Milky-white stalactites grew in irregular patterns, and in the distance, a small waterfall cascaded into an unknown depth, creating a constant, splashing roar.

Several enormous blood pools were constructed in the center of the cave, with hundreds of corpses bobbing and sinking within them. Martial artists in tight-fitting outfits were busy adding unknown medicinal herbs to the pools, the cloying scent of blood mingling with the fragrance of herbs to saturate the entire cavern. Elsewhere, piles of dismembered corpses were tossed aside in heaps.

"I didn't find my fellow sect members, but I found these scoundrels instead," Ling Chi muttered to himself. It was obvious they were refining corpses. Connecting this to Wei Xuan’s claims, it was highly likely this was the secret corpse-refinement site of her elder brother, Wei Ming. Based on the suspicions he and Zhao Qing had shared, it was possible that Qu Zhang, the remnant of the Corpse Refinement Sect, was the mysterious figure backing Wei Ming. It was even possible that both Qu Zhang and Wei Ming were present, perhaps even joined by Lin Xiao, who had sacrificed his entire family.

"Damn it, two factions of enemies have converged," he thought. As a remnant of the Corpse Refinement Sect, Qu Zhang would surely have "venom-corpses" as his trump card. Ling Chi felt a dull ache in his head as he calculated the strength of his opponents. The Thunder Bead within his body pulsed incessantly, but he had no time to attend to it.

*No matter,* he decided. *I’ll scout the situation first. Even if I can’t win, I can surely outrun them.*

He channeled his Divine Concealment technique to its limit, feeling as though a thin veil now separated him from the world. He crept along the cave walls, his vigilance heightened to the maximum, ready to erupt with full power at the slightest sign of trouble. Yet, after sneaking forward for hundreds of yards, there was no movement at all.

Ling Chi did not relax; if anything, he grew more alert. Wei Ming had managed to make a name for himself despite the suppression from his family’s main branch; he was certainly no pushover. Ling Chi knew well that the price of underestimating an enemy was one's life.

After further scouting, he finally located a middle-aged man who appeared to be the leader. The man was reclining in a carved-out stone chamber, eyes closed in feigned sleep, humming a tune under his breath. Beside him, charcoal burned brightly in a red clay stove, atop which sat a small pot. Inside, milky white broth bubbled, tossing bits of tofu and pickled vegetables into the air, releasing a savory aroma.

"Pickled vegetables and tofu—this grandson certainly knows how to eat," Ling Chi thought. After confirming the surroundings, he slipped into the stone chamber. The Thunder Bead pulsed even more violently.

The man, possessing the cultivation of the Qi Sea Realm, reacted the moment the air currents in the chamber shifted. Realizing an uninvited guest had arrived, he sprang up instantly, reaching for the short blade at his waist.

He was fast, but Ling Chi was faster. In the blink of an eye, without even drawing his own blade, Ling Chi clenched his right fist and slammed it into the man’s chest with the force of a gale.

*Thud.*

The man’s chest collapsed instantly, a fist-shaped indentation several inches deep branded into his torso. His hand, still reaching for his blade, failed to complete the motion; he was knocked into the air and crashed to the floor, vomiting blood. The pungent, metallic scent of fresh blood instantly obliterated the appetizing fragrance of the meal.

Before the man could scream, Ling Chi moved with lightning speed, stuffing a filthy rag into his mouth. He then unbuckled the man’s belt and bound his hands tightly in front of him.

The man stared in terror, the flesh on his face trembling violently. Only breaths ago, he had been reclining comfortably, preparing to enjoy his wine and gourmet dish. Now, he was a blood-spitting prisoner.

Ling Chi, fearing he might alert the others, did not use the Thunder Sound to intimidate him. Instead, he asked softly, "I know you’re a tough nut, and I don't intend to ask you anything. Since you enjoy fine food, I have a dish I’d like you to taste."

Ling Chi nonchalantly drew his short blade and poked the coals in the red clay stove until they glowed brighter. Suddenly, he flicked his wrist, and three of the man’s fingers flew into the boiling pot, swirling among the tofu and pickled vegetables. The fresh blood darkened the broth, ruining the pristine white soup.

The pain of severed fingers was excruciating. The man let out a muffled wail through his gag, curling into a ball to cope with the agony.

"This dish is called 'Butcher’s Stew.' It’s excellent; you’ll surely love it once you’ve had a taste," Ling Chi said, ignoring the man’s pathetic state and stirring the pot with a ladle. "Don’t be impatient, it’ll be ready soon. I guarantee your fingers will be tender and fall right off the bone."

He spoke with the professional air of a gourmet chef.

"Mmph... Mmph-mmph!" The man arched his back, rubbing his head against Ling Chi’s leg.

"Do you wish to offer an opinion? Or do you have specific preferences for how it’s served?" Ling Chi asked. "I’m going to remove the rag now. You’d best be quiet, or I’ll slice you into a thousand pieces and poach them for you to eat one by one."

His voice sent a chill through the man, as if he had been shoved into an ice cellar in the height of summer. Goosebumps erupted across his skin. *Where did this living Yama come from? Young Master, oh Young Master, why did you have to provoke him?* He had already guessed that this man was here to cause trouble for his master. *I’m sorry, Young Master, but I don’t want to eat myself.*

Ling Chi flicked the rag away with his blade. "Speak," he said, slapping the man’s face with the flat of his twenty-pound blade like a common thug.

"My name is Wei Dong. I’m the steward who grew up with Young Master Wei Ming. Please, give me a quick death, and I’ll tell you everything I know," Wei Dong said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"Where is Wei Ming? And where is that old man from the Corpse Refinement Sect? Is anyone else with them?" Ling Chi asked, stirring the fingers in the pot with his ladle.

"The Young Master went to Wei County. That old man should be with him. I don’t know about anyone else," Wei Dong replied, staring in horror at the fingers bobbing in the soup, terrified that they would be shoved into his mouth next.

"What about the old man’s corpses? How many 'venom-corpses' has your master refined?"

"My master only has two. They are both being nurtured in the blood pools outside. I don’t know about the old man, but he always carries a large black coffin with him."

"Is there a young man with them who uses talismans?"

"I truly haven't seen any such person. The Young Master arranged for me to stay here as a guard; he doesn't come here often," Wei Dong said, his face deathly pale from blood loss.

"Where did those corpses outside come from?" Ling Chi asked, gesturing with his chin.

"The Young Master had the Ghost Sect bring them from Teng Town. Others were sold to us by Qian Dajiang, the Magistrate of Zhu County—beggars and vagrants."

Ling Chi frowned upon hearing this. "And I thought Zhu County was clean, even remarking on the Magistrate’s good governance because there were no beggars. So, he was selling them to you for corpse refinement all along."

He realized then that the "Qian" fellow had a keen sense of self-preservation; he had managed to evade the judgment of the Thunder Bead and slip through Ling Chi’s fingers. He mentally noted Qian Dajiang’s name. This was a stain on his professional career; he had to be eliminated.

"How do you contact the Ghost Sect? Do you know their current location?" Ling Chi continued.

"If we leave this symbol at the Wufu Inn in Yu County, they will come to find us," Wei Dong said, using his own blood to draw a symbol on the ground. "That is all I know. Please, grant me a swift death."

Wei Dong wept, finally realizing that a quick death was, in fact, a luxury.

"In your next life, don't eat such famous dishes. It’s a waste."

As he spoke, the short blade plunged vertically into the top of Wei Dong’s head. A hundred strands of thunderous spiritual energy flowed back into Ling Chi.

Ling Chi took a deep breath and kicked over the boiling pot. His eyes condensed into a dazzling, brilliant red, and the power of extreme Yang coiled around his horse-chopping saber.

He did not intend to leave a single person in this cave alive.