Huh? Isn't this an adventure kingdom building game?!-Chapter 100: There are actually masters?

In a short time, experiencing the highest peak of joy in life only to fall down heavily, Han Ya became even more frightened hearing those words.

She watched Old Man Wan get ignited by the Flame spewed by the Rat Spirit, struggling and howling until he was burned alive. At the time, she felt extreme satisfaction, thinking that without this old man, she could claim Wan Mingchuan for herself.

But now, it’s her turn to face the same fate.

The most terrifying thing is knowing what will happen next, yet being powerless to change it, unable to escape, only able to watch helplessly as she walks toward the dreadful end she witnessed not long ago, her heart filled with despair and fear reaching its peak, she rolls her eyes and faints.

"He truly harbors murderous intent, aims to kill," Bai Yunqi remarked softly while leaning weakly against a stout paper figure, arms crossed, quietly reminding.

Jiang Yuan stood aside, icy-eyed, quietly nodding.

"That’s your disciple; you won’t stop him from killing someone?"

"Why should I stop him?" He felt the snake’s query was somewhat nonsensical, "There’s a rightful owner to every affair, a creditor must repay their debts, murderers shall pay by death; this is the natural order. Han Ya caused the death of the grandfather who raised Wan Mingchuan with utmost care; nature takes its course as the man avenges his grandfather, pays back the vendetta. As the master, why should I intervene rather than support him?"

Bai Yunqi was surprised, scanning the youthful Venerable Family member, sincerely exclaiming, "You seem quite different from those human cultivators I’ve encountered before."

"Oh? How so different?"

"Actually, I don’t enjoy interacting with humans much, so I haven’t known many; but I’ve seen several who frequently advise others ’Be lenient whenever possible,’ ’Forgive others to forgive oneself,’ ’Lay down the butcher knife to achieve enlightenment,’ saying prohibiting murder is for the other’s benefit."

"What nonsense!" Jiang Yuan, having long been immunized to such toxic hard talk due to prolonged surfing on the 5G network, retorted, "No one has the qualification to forgive a murderer on behalf of the deceased. Killing intentionally, then shedding tears and claiming regret when caught, does not earn one a restart and a new life. What about the victims, slain? How could they start anew?

So I greatly concur with Wan Mingchuan’s approach; returning the same manner onto the perpetrator. As for whether Grandpa Wan forgives the murderer, that’s his own business. As a grandson, sending the murderer to meet Grandpa, I find no fault in that."

"Clap, clap, clap!"

Bai Yunqi clapped methodically, "Well said, repaying revenge with revenge, repaying resentment with resentment, repaying kindness, that’s how it should be. You, Venerable Family, are not bad; it’d be better if you can supply me a Xiang Mountain every day!"

Jiang Yuan rolled his eyes, ignoring the last remark.

A Xiang Mountain every day, wait till I set up a mechanized assembly line before dreaming about that.

The Riverfront Village held around two hundred villagers, standing densely packed.

Initially, they all gathered for the River God’s ritual; thereafter, the Immortals battled, wreaking havoc amongst mortals, their legs soft with fear, unable to flee.

Now barely recovering, they’ve realized they’ve been fooled by the Three Great Surnames, some considered taking the initiative to seize things; some pondered uprooting their humiliation with rage they’ve endured. Nonetheless, a row of eerie paper figures encircled them, preventing anyone from acting rashly.

The two spirits appeared more delicate and handsome than each other, yet each exuded more profound, inexplicable evil, leaving villagers reluctant to even glance, stretching necks eagerly watching Wan Mingchuan avenge his grandfather and settle accounts.

"You think playing dead allows you to escape?" Wan Mingchuan sneered, his hand gripping her shoulder suddenly igniting a layer of pale blue Flame, its scorching warmth flowing like a stream rapidly through his prominent finger bones onto her shoulder, instantly setting her luxurious attire ablaze.

"Ah! Help! So hot, it’s burning me to death!" Han Ya, awakened by the searing pain penetrating her bones, frantically slapped at the inflamed shoulder and rapidly spreading Flame engulfing her body, screaming and begging for mercy.

Even though she rolled desperately on the sandy ground, it failed to extinguish the Flame, burning increasingly fervent, adhering like a bone parasite.

Screams pierced the sky, Wan Mingchuan stood beside, watching expressionlessly.

On the fateful night of disaster, his grandfather perished similarly in immense agony, enveloped by Flame with no escape, surely hoping for his appearance to douse the Flame.

Days before the incident, he accompanied his grandfather to town selling fur and game, waiting long before someone came to buy. Grandfather wished to buy fabric for Aunt Lin to tailor an outfit; he insisted instead on purchasing a pair of straw sandals sold cheaply by refugees, letting Grandpa wear them.

On the long mountain trail, Grandpa spared the new shoes, saying to save wearing them until deemed presentable while securing a marriage for his grandson.

However, those straw sandals, worn only once, did not go onto Grandpa for burial — he was burned in the fire, reduced to a mere shape unable to wear shoes, hastily buried along with new shoes wrapped in grass mat.

"Grandpa, I’ve personally avenged you!" Wan Mingchuan exhaled long-held malice from his heart, but upon recalling Grandpa’s tragic death, felt no immense joy.

The engulfed victim struggles, screams, and pleads to no avail, becoming unable to move, reduced to hoarse, beast-like cries, eventually burned to a motionless charred corpse.

The air was filled with a scorched stench.

"Snap!"

The curling, blackened charred corpse emitted a crisp sound, a fractured bone exposed a pinkish cross-section beneath charred skin; Han Ya finally breathed her last, as a faint shadow drifted from her corpse.

"Is this...a ghost?!" Having exacted vengeance, Wan Mingchuan, intending to leave with his master, was stunned witnessing this scene.

Since apprenticing, learning artisan craft, he indeed witnessed countless mystic forces previously unseen; however, witnessing a soul leaving the body upon his first kill overwhelmed his mind temporarily.

"I’m dead? Ah! I’ve become this ghostly appearance!" Han Ya’s soul retained the state before death; utterly charred, devoid of attire or hair, eyelids burned away, exposing veins-ridden eyeballs, mouth revealing a raspy, unpleasant voice.

Observing hands burned reminiscent of chicken claws filled her heart with resentment; she screamed, "Even as a ghost, I won’t spare you! Wan Mingchuan, you..."

Before she could finish her threatening curse, a sinister wind howled from the village, the next second a wide maw in that wind swallowed the fresh ghost whole!

"There’s an adept around?" Jiang Yuan, witnessing the scene, was astonished.

The mutation arrived too suddenly to react, yet the system’s analysis focused on the revealed entity.

[The Riverfront Village’s Ding Zhuzi’s wandering soul, metamorphosed into a Fierce Ghost after absorbing residual Yin Energy from Ghost Cultivator statues. No cultivation technique, instinctively devours other ghosts to level up rapidly, risk loss of sanity and control, currently harmless]

The sinister wind spiraled swallowing Han Ya’s soul before revealing its true form.

A roughly fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy appeared, pallid and bloodless, donned a patch-covered attire of indistinguishable base color, carotid artery slashed open, back of the head bloodstained, emaciated, appearing pathetic.

"You’re not Riverfront Village residents." Fierce Ghost Ding Zhuzi examined Wan Mingchuan, then turned to Jiang Yuan and Bai Yunqi, saying: "You’re unfamiliar with our grievances; while Riverfront Village resolves in its own manner, I ask you not to meddle randomly. Wan Mingchuan will kill at his leisure, and I mind my business."

Jiang Yuan noted small sharp horns near his forehead fringes.

A system prompt detailed this as a mark resisting full refinement through instinctual devourment without a cultivation technique, growing more pronounced with increasing devouring and face alienation.

"Naturally, your grievances are best settled internally; outsiders have no right to interfere." Jiang Yuan gestured, prompting rows of paper figures, painted with bright red cheeks and eerie smiles, to obediently return, shrunken to miniature figures and stored in his Storage Bag with a single breath.