Mo Fan stood before that enormous wooden notice board, his gaze like a hawk scrutinizing prey, rapidly filtering through those colorful bounty notices.
Escort Merchant Caravan? Directly eliminated.
Though the reward was 20 Spirit Stones, it took too long—five full days mixing with strangers. His current identity couldn't withstand scrutiny, and traveling with two undead creatures, the slightest slip would mean eternal damnation.
Mist Forest Gathering?
Though "Companion Demon Grass" was valuable, that meant venturing deep into unknown territory—rashly pioneering new maps carried uncontrollable risks.
Finally, his finger stopped on an inconspicuous gray notice.
[ Extermination: Qingmu Town Rat Infestation ]
[ Objective: Clear out mutated Spirit-Devouring Rats. ]
[ Reward: Every 10 rat tails exchanged for 5 low-grade Spirit Stones. Rat carcasses belong to individuals. ]
"This is the one."
Mo Fan's lips curved slightly.
For ordinary body cultivators, catching rats was miserable work. Spirit-Devouring Rats were small, fast, and burrowed—brute strength had nowhere to apply. Often exhausting themselves while catching few, extremely poor value.
But for Mo Fan, this was practically a gift.
"Run fast? Burrow underground?"
He glanced back at that silent black shadow behind him, inwardly chuckling. "What luck—my modified Summon No. 003 was built precisely for this."
Moreover, rat carcasses belonged to individuals. This meant another batch of stable corpse materials incoming.
Riiip—
Mo Fan didn't hesitate, reaching up to tear down the notice.
Several nearby rogue cultivators selecting tasks cast surprised looks. Seeing a "body cultivator" taking rat-catching work, they all revealed expressions awaiting a good show.
"Body cultivator catching mice? Heh, this fellow's gonna break his back."
"Mind your business. Newbies always gotta pay tuition before learning which tasks to take."
Mo Fan ignored the surrounding mockery, taking the notice to the registration desk. The clerk in charge gave him an odd look but still followed procedure, tossing him a task token.
"Three days. Settle with rat tails. Go on."
After accepting the task, Mo Fan didn't rush to depart.
Qingmu Town wasn't far—time was ample. Clutching his last bit of broken Spirit Shards, he turned into the market's outer district.
This time, he didn't buy cultivation resources, instead entering commoner general stores.
"Shopkeeper, give me two wild ginseng roots. Don't need high age—just good for replenishing Qi and nourishing the body."
"Right away! Two ten-year specimens, 50 broken Spirit Shards."
Mo Fan paid, carefully storing those two ginseng roots tied with red string. These were for Old Lü. The old man was getting on in years, injured in youth, always in poor health. Though these roots were useless for cultivators, they were highly nourishing for mortals.
Next, he went to the adjacent pastry shop, buying a large bag of fresh-baked crispy cakes and colorful malt candies.
These were for Er Ya, Da Hu, A-Song, and the others.
Carrying these things full of everyday warmth, Mo Fan's heart—always tense, gradually hardening through killing and scheming—rarely softened somewhat.
Only at this moment, thinking of bringing gifts home for family, did he feel like a person of flesh and blood, rather than that Necromancer rolling in corpse piles, hands covered in blood.
"Let's go home."
Mo Fan tightened the [ Shadow Leopard Cloak ] on his body, leading his "shadow" onto the mountain path back to the servants' quarters.
The mountain road was rugged, no one around.
Mo Fan slowed his pace, looking back at Mo Yan who'd silently followed behind all along.
Currently, Mo Yan wore black clothes, carried a long sword on his back, face wearing that illusory stern mask, whole body radiating stay-away killing intent. This image worked well as deterrent in the market, but bringing it back to servants' quarters full of the old, weak, and sick would definitely make children cry.
Moreover, how to explain this suddenly appearing stranger?
Hired bodyguard?
Mo Fan shook his head. Where would a menial servant get money to hire such a strong bodyguard? Unreasonable.
Friend?
Who would befriend such a weird person covered in death Qi, never saying a word?
Mo Fan stroked his chin, inspiration flashing in his mind.
"Got it."
He pointed to empty ground by the roadside. "Mo Yan, sit down."
Mo Yan obediently sat.
Mo Fan again sat cross-legged, took a deep breath, and expertly activated [ Undead Sovereign · Forced Override ].
Hummm—
Consciousness transfer.
Mo Fan again entered Mo Yan's body. This time, he didn't drastically modify but began fine-tuning that mask's parameters.
"Eyes too fierce, soften them... no, make them vacant."
"Don't clench mouth corners, open slightly, need that 'not too bright' feeling."
"The facial scar... keep it, makes him more pitiful."
Several minutes later, Mo Fan severed connection, waking drenched in sweat.
Looking again at Mo Yan before him.
That originally cold, ruthless swordsman had vanished. Replaced by a middle-aged man with waxy yellow complexion, somewhat scattered gaze, slightly drooping mouth corners. Though still that face, temperament had undergone earth-shattering change.
From "cold-blooded killer" to "down-and-out simpleton."
"Perfect."
Mo Fan nodded satisfactorily. "From now on, you're my distant cousin. Childhood fever damaged your brain, you're mute, strong, nowhere to go, came to seek refuge with me."
In the cultivation world, people who practiced wrong and went crazy or encountered misfortune and turned stupid were everywhere. Mo Fan "kindly" taking in a down-and-out relative both fit his "good guy Lu Xiaoqi" persona and perfectly explained why Mo Yan didn't speak, why expression was rigid, why he only obeyed Mo Fan.
"Remember, after entering the village restrain killing intent, act... simpler."
Mo Yan tilted his head, jaw making a click sound, seemingly digesting this complex command.
Dusk, sunset descending.
Mo Fan brought his "cousin," carrying large and small packages, into the servants' quarters.
"Seventh Brother's back!"
Er Ya, playing at the alley entrance with sharp eyes, charged over first. Da Hu and several other children also cheered and surrounded them.
However, when they ran close and saw that tall, silent strange man behind Mo Fan radiating cold Qi, the children's steps suddenly braked.
They shrank back like startled quails, hiding behind Mo Fan, timidly peeking out.
"Brother Mo... who is he? Looks so scary." Er Ya asked quietly.
Time for acting.
Mo Fan smiled, handing the candy package to Er Ya, then turned around, affectionately grasping Mo Yan's leather-gloved hand like treating family.
"Don't be afraid, this is my cousin."
Mo Fan explained with a face full of sighs. "His name is... Mo Yan. Childhood high fever damaged his brain, can't speak either. Today I ran into him at the market—he was being bullied. Seeing he had nowhere to go, quite pitiful, I brought him back."
Speaking, he patted Mo Yan's shoulder, saying loudly: "Cousin, greet everyone!"
Under Mo Fan's secret command, Mo Yan cooperatively tilted his head, originally vacant gaze sweeping over the children, then slowly raised his hand in an extremely stiff waving motion.
Ka... da...
If one didn't listen carefully, might think he was burping.
Pfft.
Er Ya couldn't help laughing. "He looks... really not too bright, huh."
Fear stems from the unknown. Once the unknown was labeled "simpleton" or "pitiful person," that fearful feeling instantly dissipated by half.
"Alright, stop teasing him. From now on he'll live here helping me work."
Mo Fan distributed crispy cakes to the children. Watching them run off gleefully with candy, the smile at his mouth corners became genuinely sincere.
Old Lü's home.
Under dim oil lamplight, Old Lü held those two wild ginseng roots, so moved his hands trembled.
"This... this is too valuable! Xiaoqi, even if you have money you can't spend like this!"
"Uncle Lü, just keep them. These were meant as filial gifts for you anyway." Mo Fan smiled, pushing the ginseng back.
Old Lü wiped away tears, carefully storing the ginseng, then turned around. Those turbid yet experienced old eyes fixed intently on Mo Yan, who'd stood like a wooden post in the corner all along.
"Xiaoqi..."
Old Lü lowered his voice, saying with some concern, "This cousin of yours... looks heavy with baleful Qi. Though he seems dull, I always feel... his hands have been stained with blood."
Old folks' intuition sometimes ran truer than cultivators' divine consciousness.
Mo Fan's heart chilled, but his face maintained a "you're overthinking" expression.
"Hey, Uncle Lü, where's your mind going?"
Mo Fan leaned over, saying quietly, "He used to escort caravans with security agencies, just a coolie carrying packages. Looking fierce is good! Look at our courtyard—always bullied by other villages before. Now with such a big guy standing at the gate, who'll dare trouble us anymore?"
Old Lü paused, then thought it over and nodded.
"That's true enough. In places like ours, being too honest invites bullying."
He sighed, asking no more. "Since you brought him back, watch him yourself. As long as he doesn't cause trouble, one more mouth to feed is just adding a pair of chopsticks."
"Rest assured, he only listens to me." Mo Fan guaranteed.
Having said this much, Old Lü couldn't say more, could only choose to trust Mo Fan wouldn't bring harm to the village.
After settling everything, Mo Fan returned to his small room.
He didn't make Mo Yan sleep on the floor—skeletons don't need sleep.
"Mo Yan, stand guard."
Mo Fan pointed to the darkest corner inside.
Mo Yan obediently walked over, like a black sculpture melting into shadows, closing those lifeless eyes, entering low-consumption standby mode.
Mo Fan lay on the bed, listening to insect chirping outside, mentally calculating tomorrow's itinerary.
"Tomorrow morning, Qingmu Town."
Mo Fan looked at that cold waning moon outside the window, a hunter's characteristic cold gleam flashing in his eyes.
"Within three days, I'll exterminate... every rat there."