Chapter 278: Young Master Kong
Could it be that the Kong Family’s young master, that Kong Sheng, isn’t dead yet…?
Mo Hua grew curious and quietly followed behind the fat cultivator as the latter left the building.
The fat cultivator, completely unaware of being tailed, carried a food box while muttering curses under his breath.
“I went through all that trouble to get into this Black Mountain Stronghold, and what am I doing? Delivering meals like a servant!”
“They won’t even let me learn any demonic arts—fine. But not even one proper task? Every day I’m just running errands for these useless bastards.”
“Damn it, a bunch of fools who can’t recognize talent…”
“Outside, my name actually means something!”
Mo Hua quickly understood—this fat cultivator was one of those “unrecognized geniuses,” bitter that no one appreciated him.
He thought the Black Mountain Stronghold was blind for not letting him learn forbidden techniques or go robbing and killing. Instead, he was stuck delivering food like a servant.
Mo Hua pursed his lips.
Sure enough—you can’t carve rotten wood, and a dog’s mouth doesn’t spit ivory. This one was useless through and through.
The fat cultivator grumbled all the way down several alleys, turned a few corners, and arrived before a secluded iron-doored hut. He rapped twice on the metal.
“Young Master Kong, mealtime.”
He then dumped the food into a large bowl as though feeding livestock, shoved it through a gap under the door, and turned to leave.
From inside came a sharp, youthful voice:
“Wait! Don’t go!”
The fat cultivator frowned. Other demonic cultivators bossing him around was one thing—but this so-called “Young Master Kong,” a mere captive piglet, dared use that tone with him?
He forced a thin smile. “What does Young Master Kong wish to say?”
“My father—did my father send any word back?”
“That, I wouldn’t know.”
“Impossible! He wouldn’t abandon me!”
The boy’s voice, muffled by the iron door, carried impatience and panic.
“Are you people demanding more spirit stones? I can add more—six thousand… no, eight thousand!”
“Just let me go! Give me a way out!”
“My father will pay you whatever you want!”
At the mention of spirit stones, the fat cultivator’s eyes gleamed. “Young Master speaks in earnest?”
“Of course! I swear it! Just let me out!”
Kong Sheng paused, then suddenly asked suspiciously:
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
This voice—he didn’t recognize it.
The fat cultivator narrowed his eyes slightly. “Yes.”
Kong Sheng, thinking he understood, relaxed.
Since this man was new and tasked with food delivery, his status must be low—like a household servant.
“If you secretly deliver a letter to my father, he will reward you handsomely.”
The word reward made the fat cultivator’s face twitch.
He preferred taking to being rewarded.
“Does Young Master have some token of proof?”
A jade pendant slid out through the door’s gap.
“This pendant was given by my father—it’s worth at least five hundred spirit stones. Take it to him; he’ll know.”
The fat cultivator tucked it into his robe, satisfied. “And what message shall I deliver?”
Kong Sheng lowered his voice:
“My father is a Foundation Establishment cultivator! Tell him to secretly bring men here, destroy this mountain stronghold, and kill them all! Once it’s done, I’ll have him take you into the Kong Family. You’ll have the Kong surname—you could even become an Elder!”
Even Mo Hua, listening from above, was dumbfounded.
There really were people this stupid.
What in the heavens had his father taught him? Did he really think the Kong Family ruled the world and he could act wantonly forever?
The fat cultivator gave a fawning smile. “Young Master, rest assured—I’ll deliver your message without fail.”
“Good! Good!” Kong Sheng’s tone brightened, filled with joy.
The fat cultivator sneered silently—Kong Sheng couldn’t see it through the iron door.
“Young Master, just stay put. Before things are ready, don’t try to escape. Otherwise, if these demonic cultivators get angry, they’ll surely kill you.”
“I won’t run! Go now—quickly!”
The fat cultivator snorted softly as he turned away. Halfway down the path, he spat at the door.
“Idiot. Utterly brain-dead.”
Watching from above, Mo Hua could tell—this fat man would pocket the jade pendant and never deliver any message.
Five hundred spirit stones, easily earned.
Mo Hua shook his head, then silently removed a roof tile to peer inside.
The room was simple and shabby.
A young man stood inside—dressed once in silks, now torn and dirty, clearly battered by misfortune.
That must be the Kong Family heir, Kong Sheng.
Mo Hua couldn’t help but mutter:
“Truly, good people die young while fools live long. How is it that such an idiot’s still alive among demonic cultivators?”
He sighed again.
What kind of upbringing had this boy had to make him this dense?
Still thinking he could reward demonic cultivators into helping him—he should be grateful they let him live and didn’t eat him.
As Mo Hua watched, Kong Sheng suddenly threw a tantrum.
He picked up the food bowl, took a few bites, gagged, forced himself to swallow, then roared in frustration.
He began smashing and kicking things, face twisted with rage.
“They all deserve to die! Every one of them!”
“A bunch of nobodies daring to ride on my head—I have to beg them? To hell with that!”
He thought of all the humiliation he’d endured—kneeling before demonic cultivators, crying, declaring his identity, begging for mercy—only to see their mocking smiles.
Kong Sheng’s eyes reddened with fury as he growled:
“It’s all that cursed Ji father and son!”
“If you hadn’t provoked me, I’d never have tried to kill you, never have left the city, never have fallen this low!”
“And that slut Fu Lan—just a cheap woman with a pretty face, pretending to be pure! Dared to reject me!”
“Once I get you, I’ll make you wish for death!”
“These demonic bastards too—mocking me, humiliating me… you’ll all die!”
“All of you must die!”
His hysteria echoed through the cramped cell.
Mo Hua listened quietly, his brows slowly furrowing.
Everything had been his own fault—yet he blamed everyone else.
Such a vengeful and twisted mind…
“Seems before I leave, I’d better make sure Kong Sheng stays in Black Mountain Stronghold forever.”
Bad people belonged in bad places.
Kong Sheng and this stronghold were a perfect match.
But first, Mo Hua decided, he needed to finish mapping the stronghold.
Two days later, with most of the map complete, he grew hungry and stopped by the stronghold’s kitchen.
As he ate, he overheard the old cook scolding the fat cultivator:
“The pastries for the Third Master were stolen! You were supposed to guard them, and you failed—can’t even handle that!”
Third Master’s pastries?
Mo Hua blinked, then glanced at the half-eaten pastry in his hand.
…So that’s why it tasted better than the rest.
The old cook kept ranting—he was a senior with a foul temper and a sharper tongue, berating the fat cultivator until the man’s face flushed.
The fat cultivator dared not talk back.
When the old cook finally left, the fat man trembled with rage, his eyelid twitching violently.
“Whichever bastard stole them—if I find out who, I’ll make you die miserably!”
Mo Hua froze mid-bite, then slowly licked his lips, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
“A bastard, huh?”
“And I should die miserably?”
“So you curse me and wish me dead?”
Mo Hua’s gaze grew icy. His mind turned swiftly…
Maybe it was time to make this fat pig disappear first.
(End of Chapter)