Looking at the headless body before him, Lucian sighed.
He hadn’t intended to kill this man, if possible.
After all, his death might bring more trouble than benefit.
Four cultivators had already died by his hand, and if no one offered a reason for their deaths, the Crimson Sky sect would surely send someone to investigate, just as this headless corpse had warned.
But if this person could have concocted any reasonable excuse for the deaths, Lucian wouldn’t have found himself in this predicament.
However, once he felt the man’s killing intent, he had no choice.
Even though he didn’t want to kill him, Lucian lacked any method to control people’s minds, forcing them to obey his will.
Perhaps the cultivation world held such techniques, but to current Lucian, those methods were nothing but a distant luxury.
He had seen through the man’s deception when he mentioned Jeson.
Lucian knew with absolute certainty that this man would lead him straight to Jeson and use the opportunity to have Lucian killed.
He didn’t need to test the extent of his own physical strength against an enemy who likely outclassed him.
He wasn’t foolish enough to take such a risk, especially since he had only recently become aware of how much stronger his new body was.
Though stronger than these Body Strengthening stage cultivators, Lucian had seen the expressions of fear and respect in the man’s eyes, indicating that Qi Gathering was a completely different level.
There had been a flash of instinctive fear in his eyes when he spoke of it, and even the Crimson Sky sect only entrusted Qi Gathering cultivators with such duties, showing their strength.
Another reason to kill the man was the poisoned knife he had been holding!
Even with his heaven-defying physique, ‘Lucian’ had already died once due to poison from the mortal world.
Now faced with the threat of poison from the cultivation world, he wasn’t eager to test how potent these toxins were. He couldn’t afford to be reckless.
These thoughts passed through his mind quickly as Lucian crouched down, indifferent to the death before him.
He began searching the headless corpse.
Surprisingly, the man still had 3 spirit stones hidden within his robes, and there were also other things of significance — a the poison-laced knife, a small bottle of poison, and also a yellowish thin piece of paper, which he promptly pocketed to inspect it later.
The knife was slender, no longer than the length of a forearm, its blade as thin as a chicken slaughtering blade but with a sharper edge that gleamed faintly in the dim moonlight.
The handle was wrapped in worn black leather, giving it a rough, well-used appearance.
Lucian could still smell the bitter, metallic tang of the poison smeared along the edge.
The bottle of poison was small, no bigger than a thumb, made of dark glass.
Through the translucent exterior of the bottle, Lucian could see a thick, viscous liquid within — a deep green substance that seemed to swirl of its own accord, occasionally bubbling as if alive!
After searching the body, Lucian dragged it over to the others he had killed earlier.
He searched them as well but only managed to find 2 more spirit stones.
Their weapons had already been shattered in the previous fight, so Lucian didn’t bother taking them — except for a broken arrow that seemed sharp enough to be of use later.
He paused, collecting all the bodies, including those of the soldiers who had accompanied him.
Among them also lay Drake, his lifeless form sprawled on the ground, eyes wide open in a final expression of horror, as if still trying to convey the terror that had consumed him in his last moments.
Lucian arranged the bodies into a single heap.
By doing so, he hoped that the wild animals would soon come to devour the remains.
Although this wouldn’t erase all traces of the reason behind their deaths, it would make it harder for anyone from the sect to trace the deaths back to him.
If they came to investigate, they wouldn’t find a clean battlefield with the bodies of fallen comrades.
Lucian harbored a flicker of hope that his efforts would sow confusion among the sect members, leading them to suspect that an enemy from another faction had carried out the massacre.
As for how he, a mortal and the only survivor, would present himself as a naïve weakling, Lucian already had a plan forming in his mind.
As these people had come to kill him, so there was no need to give them a proper burial.
Even if he wanted to give to these guards, it would have been unwise.
If anyone from the sect asked how he’d had the time or desire to bury his enemies, they would grow suspicious. No predator would care for the remains of its prey.
While it was unlikely that the sect could easily trace the deaths back to him, Lucian didn’t know how cultivators tracked such things.
It was better to be cautious than to risk being discovered.
Less than an hour later, Lucian heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching — wild wolves, their padded feet barely making a sound against the forest floor.
Growl~ Growl~
Their yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dim moonlight, reflecting the moonlight, and their fur was a matted gray, blending seamlessly with the shadows of the night.
These wolves were larger than the domestic dogs, their bodies lean with hunger, ribs visible beneath their fur as they prowled closer to the scene.
Their sharp, curved fangs gleamed as they bared their teeth, driven by the scent of blood.
Lucian quietly hid himself in a nearby tree, his gaze sharp as he watched the beasts below.
Even though the night shrouded the forest in thick darkness, his enhanced sight allowed him to see everything with unnerving clarity.
He could make out the wolves’ every movement, their sinewy muscles tensing as they circled the corpses.
Despite his blood-soaked clothes, the overwhelming scent of death from the bodies drowned out his own presence.
These wolves were unintelligent creatures, driven purely by their hunger and instincts.
The sheer volume of blood from the dead bodies masked any trace of Lucian’s scent.
The wolves tore into the corpses with ravenous intensity, their jaws crunching through bone as they devoured the remains.
Once Lucian was certain that the wolves had reduced the bodies to little more than scattered bones, he descended from the tree, his sharp eyes scanning the dark forest.
He heard it again — a faint, desperate neigh carried on the wind, barely audible over the rustle of the leaves.
A horse was still alive!
Without wasting a moment, Lucian sprinted through the underbrush, his movements swift and silent.
His blood-soaked clothes clung to him, but the scent of death masked his presence, keeping the wolves from noticing him as he moved.
The forest seemed to blur past him until he reached a small clearing where a horse stood, trembling, its body weak from fear and injury.
Among all the horses that had accompanied the group, this was the only one seemed to be still standing.
From that spot alone, the faint sound of neighing reached Lucian’s ears, a clear sign that the other horses had either fled too far or met their end.
Blood dripped steadily from a wound in its abdomen, dark and sluggish, yet not immediately life-threatening.
Lucian could see its flanks heaving from exhaustion, the ragged breath escaping its nostrils as it tried to remain upright.
Despite its injury, it hadn’t collapsed, but it was only a matter of time.
“Sigh…” Lucian exhaled softly, relief washing over him as he saw that the beast was not beyond saving.
Neigh~~
As soon as the horse spotted him, its frantic cry breaking through the otherwise quiet night.
Its eyes were wide, filled with panic, and its body trembled violently.
The sound of its distressed neighing echoed through the clearing, revealing its location to Lucian — and perhaps to the wolves as well.
It struggled to step back, its muscles tensing in fear, but it was too weak to run. The only thing it could do was call out, hoping for help in the face of impending doom.
As Lucian appeared, the wolves’ attention shifted instantly.
Their yellow eyes locked onto him, glowing with a ravenous hunger, their breath fogging the cold air.
A low, guttural growl echoed from their throats, filling the night with a sense of impending danger.
They moved with a calculated rhythm, tightening their circle around him, each step deliberate and full of tension.
AWOOOO~~
The sound erupted from one of the larger wolves, the pack stirred into a frenzy by the thick scent of blood clinging to Lucian’s clothes.
Then, without warning, one of the wolves lunged at Lucian, a blur of fur.
Its maw opened wide, revealing rows of gleaming, razor-sharp teeth, its eyes wild with bloodlust.
The sound of its snarl cut through the stillness, a chilling reminder of the danger at hand as the beast aimed straight for Lucian’s throat.
“Filthy beasts,” Lucian didn’t hesitate. He punched the wolf directly in the head, his fist shattering its skull with a sickening crack.
The beast dropped instantly, its body crumpling into the dirt, lifeless.
The other wolves froze, their bloodlust turning into fear as they realized this human was no easy prey.
They began to retreat, tails tucked between their legs.
But Lucian wasn’t finished.
In a blur of motion, he grabbed one of the retreating wolves by the hind leg!
Crack~ Thud–
Instead of killing it, he twisted, crushing its bones with precision.
The wolf howled in agony as Lucian tossed it aside, crippled but alive.
The remaining wolves fled into the shadows, unwilling to face him again.
Lucian turned his attention back to the horse. It was still trembling, its eyes wide with fear, but it was still alive.
Stepping closer, he began to calm down the beast.