Chapter 421: Saving Lives

“Who’s there?!”

The other thugs’ eyes widened in terror as they shouted.

Before they could react, a cultivator had already closed in on them.

He wasn’t tall, but his speed was astonishing. His fists were wrapped in golden light, and with a single punch, he sent one thug flying, spitting blood.

Another thug panicked and swung his blade at the figure.

But halfway through, his forearm was caught.

With a twist, the cultivator snapped the thug’s arm.

The thug screamed in pain, and before he could cry out again, a kick sent him flying, his chest heaving, a mouthful of blood spattering the ground.

The last thug, stronger than the rest, managed to defend for a few moves, but the more he fought, the more terrified he became.

This cultivator, whose identity was unknown, was clearly still at the Qi-Refining stage, yet his aura was dense and unyielding, his attacks lightning-fast, his fists skilled, and his rank clearly high.

Every clash of fists made the thug’s hands tingle, as if the bones inside would shatter.

Under such fierce assault, he could only take the hits, powerless to counterattack.

Even this limited defense was near his limit.

Sure enough, after a few exchanges, his fists were crushed, pain unbearable, and his movements faltered, leaving an opening.

The cultivator flashed to his side, his punch rising from below, golden light spilling everywhere, and one strike shattered the thug’s arm.

The man groaned in pain, turned to flee, only to have the spectral cultivator close in and kick his leg, breaking it.

The thug collapsed to the ground with a thud, unconscious from the pain.

In an instant, among the thugs, only Wang Lai remained.

By now, Wang Lai had extinguished the flames on his arm, but his right arm was charred and powerless, hanging limply—obviously gravely injured and unable to hold a blade.

He looked around, panic in his eyes, and shouted,

“Which sect are you from?”

The mine was silent.

Wang Lai turned to flee, but before he could take a few steps, a golden sword light flashed, streaking across and piercing his right leg.

He stumbled and crashed to the ground, clutching his leg, wailing.

The sword had pierced his leg, and upon the wound, a white, flame-like spiritual energy burned, scorching him with excruciating pain.

Within moments, all of Wang Lai’s fierce thugs had been subdued.

Old Yu could hardly believe it.

His eyes widened as he fell to his knees, trembling with fear:

“I-I don’t know who you are, please—”

Before he could finish, a pale little hand lifted his arm, helping him up.

Three small figures now appeared before him.

The mine was dim, but Old Yu could just make out their faces, leaving him even more astonished.

The ones who had so easily subdued Wang Lai and his gang were three delicate-looking, extraordinary young cultivators.

“Y-you… are…”

Mo Hua lifted a bronze waist token in his hand.

“We’re from the Dao Court Division.”

This bronze token had been specially applied for by Zhang Lan and Chief Zhou back in Tōngxiān City.

Traveling with multiple identities and connections could be useful.

In this situation, the Dao Court Division identity was perfect.

Old Yu still couldn’t believe it.

The Dao Court Division had cultivators this young?

But the token didn’t appear fake, and there was no reason for them to deceive an old man.

Old Yu bowed deeply.

“Thank you, three young masters.”

Mo Hua stopped him from bowing and handed him a hemostatic pill:

“Take this first, regulate your breathing.”

Then he went to Wang Er and Tang Wu, giving each a pill.

He had just scanned them with Divine Sense—they had merely fainted, some with scalp injuries, their Sea of Consciousness slightly shocked, but their lives were unharmed.

After that, Mo Hua leisurely walked toward Wang Lai.

Wang Lai leaned against the wall, his right arm burned by Mo Hua’s fireball technique, his right leg injured by Bai Zixi’s sword light, sweating in pain.

He looked at Mo Hua, disbelief written across his face.

He never imagined he’d be defeated by a few children.

Who were these kids?

How did they find him? And why were they in the mine?

“What… are you from the Dao Court Division?” Wang Lai asked, wincing.

Mo Hua nodded.

“Do you… know Zhao Dian-si?” Wang Lai tested.

Mo Hua raised an eyebrow.

“You’re familiar with Zhao Dian-si?”

Wang Lai forced a smile.

“Not very familiar, just some acquaintance.”

“Oh,” Mo Hua said, meaningfully.

Wang Lai couldn’t read Mo Hua’s origin or intentions. His Divine Sense couldn’t probe him—it was as if Mo Hua was shrouded in mist.

Still, he asked:

“Three young masters, what brings you to this mine?”

Mo Hua smiled faintly.

“You tell me.”

Wang Lai felt awkward.

“Please, enlighten me.”

Mo Hua looked at him.

“You’re killing people!”

Wang Lai’s expression changed, and he shouted:

“You’re wrong, young master, wrong!”

His right arm burned and powerless, he lifted his left hand, pointing at Old Yu:

“It’s them! They were stealing from the Lu family’s mine. I caught them, so I restrained them, planning to hand them over to the Dao Court Division…”

“Those miners seem honest, but they’re cunning and greedy, capable of anything.”

“Don’t be fooled…”

Mo Hua was slightly surprised.

Wang Lai was indeed talented.

In just a moment, he had invented a full story to twist black into white and pin the blame on others.

No wonder he thrived in Nanyue City and was called “Wang Lai-pi.”

Old Yu, enraged, trembled as he pointed a shaky finger at Wang Lai:

“You… shameless!”

He had no grievances, yet he tried to turn the tables while plotting murder himself.

Wang Lai sneered silently.

Mo Hua smiled and said:

“Wang Lai-pi.”

Wang Lai’s face changed sharply.

“You know me?”

No one could know that nickname without knowing his background.

A chill ran down Wang Lai’s spine as he narrowed his eyes:

“So you knew everything from the start. Everything here, you already saw?”

“Sort of,” Mo Hua said lightly.

Wang Lai asked:

“How much do you know?”

Mo Hua counted on his fingers:

“This month, you visited Yihong Tower seven times, robbed the Dao twice, beat people six times, had five free meals, and two days ago, lost ten ling stones in gambling…”

Wang Lai was shocked.

“How is that possible? How could you know?”

Mo Hua smirked.

I watch you every day; of course I know everything.

You’re just a fool with weak Divine Sense, so you didn’t notice.

Mo Hua didn’t say this aloud, only smiled mysteriously, leaving Wang Lai more bewildered.

Wang Lai’s heart pounded.

“What exactly do you want?”

Mo Hua’s voice was clear:

“I’ll ask you some questions. You answer honestly.”

Wang Lai’s eyes hardened.

“If I answer, will you spare me?”

“You answer. I won’t kill you now, but hand you to the Dao Court Division. Refuse, and I’ll execute you immediately!”

Mo Hua threatened.

Wang Lai sneered.

“Even at the Dao Court Division, I’ll still die, won’t I?”

Mo Hua said:

“Early or late makes a difference. Besides, you know Zhao Dian-si—plead with him, maybe he’ll spare you.”

Wang Lai’s eyes flickered as he coldly laughed:

“Since you know me so well, you must know everything already. Why ask me?”

“Since you’re being asked, there must be things you don’t know.”

“You don’t know, I do. That gives me value, so you won’t kill me!”

Wang Lai said confidently.

Bai Zisheng frowned.

“He’s still stubborn.”

Mo Hua gave him one last chance:

“Really won’t tell?”

Wang Lai scoffed.

“Even if you beat me to death, I won’t tell.”

Mo Hua nodded:

“Good! I admire your spirit!”

Then he drew the Thousand-Weight Rod, glancing at Bai Zisheng:

“Beat him.”

Bai Zisheng’s expression lit up. He had wanted to punish this bastard for a while, but Mo Hua wanted information first, so he restrained himself.

Now, he was excited but still cautious:

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“What could happen?”

“What if we kill him?”

“Then so be it. He wasn’t a good man anyway.”

“No, if we kill him, you won’t get your information, right?”

“No problem, let it be. Besides, there are three more over there…”

“True…”

…

After speaking, Mo Hua smiled kindly and stepped toward Wang Lai.

Wang Lai shivered, pressing himself against the cold stone wall, inching backward until he had nowhere to retreat.

“Y-you… don’t…”

Mo Hua raised the Thousand-Weight Staff high and said: “Let’s see which’s harder—your stubborn mouth, or my iron staff!”

Then he slammed the staff down hard.

Bai Zisheng didn’t hold back either, attacking with fists and kicks.

Bai Zixi, recalling what Wang Lai had done, was also a bit angry. She condensed her golden sword aura into needle-thin points, one by one stabbing them into Wang Lai’s body.

Gritting his teeth, Wang Lai struggled to hold on. “You bunch of little bastards… I’ll remember this…”

“Still daring to talk tough?”

Mo Hua raised an eyebrow and hit even harder.

After a while, Mo Hua remembered something, took out a pill, and fed it to Wang Lai.

Bai Zisheng asked in confusion, “What pill is that?”

Mo Hua said, “Little Life-Saving Pill. For when you might accidentally kill him.”

Bai Zisheng couldn’t help but say, “You really thought this through…”

Mo Hua nodded. “Should be.”

They continued beating him, and seeing that Wang Lai had mostly vented his anger and wasn’t taking in more energy, Bai Zisheng frowned:

“This Little Life-Saving Pill isn’t enough…”

Mo Hua scratched his head, a little puzzled.

This was given to him by Elder Feng, so it should be good. Could it be that he had hit too hard?

Bai Zisheng then pulled out a bottle of pills. “Try this. Bai family secret recipe, Perfect Tonic Pill. First restore the blood, then keep going…”

Mo Hua sniffed it and his eyes lit up. “This is good.”

He took one and gave it to the barely-alive Wang Lai.

Wang Lai’s complexion quickly improved, and his blood energy gradually surged.

Bai Zisheng rolled up his sleeves. “Continue!”

Mo Hua, not being a body cultivator, was already a bit tired, but after thinking for a moment, he gritted his teeth and said:

“All right!”

And so they beat Wang Lai again.

Even Old Yu, standing nearby, couldn’t help twitching at the sight.

Eventually, Wang Lai could no longer hold on.

Fists were fierce, the iron staff was hard, the golden needles were painful.

The key was, these kids really didn’t care whether he lived or died.

If this kept up, he’d really be beaten to death.

Wang Lai could no longer stay tough and began pleading intermittently:

“I… I was wrong… spare… spare my life…”

Bai Zisheng wasn’t fully satisfied, and Mo Hua regretted it, saying:

“You only behave after getting a beating? I think we should stop calling you ‘Wang Lai-pi,’ better call you ‘Wang Jian-pi’…”

Wang Lai spat a mouthful of old blood.

…

After getting beaten, Wang Lai stopped being stubborn.

No matter what Mo Hua asked, he answered honestly.

Wang Lai was indeed a habitual offender.

He would first find an excuse to lure the mine workers to the mine, then kill them without anyone noticing, then contact their families to demand compensation from the Lu family.

After killing, he also profited from the dead.

He had done this many times, but because mines were dangerous and workers often went missing, and the Dao Court Division neglected their duties, he could always get away with it.

But there was still a suspicion.

The Lu family required that without a corpse, no compensation in spirit stones would be given.

So most of the time, they couldn’t get the compensation.

Though greedy, Wang Lai probably wouldn’t risk killing someone just for uncertain spirit stones.

Mo Hua also remembered what Wang Lai had said earlier:

“Open their heart channels and kill them, don’t damage the limbs, don’t tear the skin…”

Why be so meticulous in killing mine workers and staging disappearances?

Something was definitely off—Wang Lai was hiding something.

Wang Lai was unwilling to speak.

Mo Hua’s gaze grew cold as he pressed repeatedly.

Wang Lai realized this interrogating young cultivator was sharp as a ghost—any lie would be detected, impossible to fool him. So he finally revealed the truth:

“Someone spends spirit stones to buy the corpses of mine workers…”

“We make spirit stones by killing people and selling their bodies…”