Hai Futong was genuinely surprised. Why would Lin Haoming gift him a spirit stone even after knowing he was leaving?
Just then, he heard Lin Haoming's faint whisper: "I hope Senior Brother Hai can point me toward a clear path."
Hai Futong took a long, careful look at the youth. He was inwardly astonished; this kid had been silent for years under his command. It seemed he had simply been lying low to avoid the fallout of his ancestor's death. Now that the dust had settled, he was finally ready to move.
Cultivation in a Demonic Sect differs from the Righteous path; even with poor aptitude, one can achieve greatness through sheer willpower and ruthlessness. Hai Futong realized he had underestimated the boy. Since he hadn't offended him too much over the years, helping him now might sow a good karmic connection. While Demonic cultivators don't usually care for such things, for weak cultivators, a small connection can sometimes become a life-saving opportunity.
Glancing at Situ Ping in the distance and then at the glaring Li Haiying, Hai Futong whispered, "Situ Ping has a junior brother named Zhou Zhiye. You might find a way to start there."
Lin Haoming understood. Though Zhou Zhiye was also a disciple of Deacon Kong, he likely didn't get along with Situ Ping. This was a crack in the wall—a chance.
But time for reflection was short. Once everyone received their stipends, most immediately handed over their protection fees to Li Haiying. Seeing them fall in line, Li Haiying's smirk grew smug, though his eyes remained murderous whenever they landed on Lin Haoming.
He couldn't kill Lin Haoming in front of everyone—breaking sect rules so blatantly would ruin him—but indirect lessons were another story. And someone had already handed him the perfect opportunity.
---
The group returned to the slaughterhouse where the Mountain Armored Beasts had been delivered. Two disciples in charge of transport distributed the beasts to each person.
Lin Haoming, as usual, stroked the beast's head and began his murmuring.
Li Haiying walked over, mocking him. "Junior Brother Lin, you really are merciful! Are you planning to betray our sect and join the Buddhists? You even chant sutras before a kill?"
"How I kill is my business," Lin Haoming replied sharply. "Manager, I believe that's outside your jurisdiction, as long as the task is finished."
"Heh, true," Li Haiying laughed, patting the beast's neck a few times before walking away.
Lin Haoming felt a surge of unease. As he raised his Blood Blade, he noticed the beast's breathing becoming heavy and ragged. Suddenly, the beast—which should have been drugged into a stupor—flipped over and lunged to its feet!
"Watch out! This one isn't sedated!" Li Shuntian screamed from the side.
Lin Haoming reacted instantly. With a wave of his hands, two fireballs streaked out, striking the beast squarely on its snout. The beast roared in pain, but instead of attacking, it began digging furiously with its front claws, attempting to escape into the earth.
Mountain Armored Beasts are incredibly fast, and their back scales are impervious even to the Blood Blade. If it escaped, Lin Haoming would be held responsible for the loss.
Knowing Li Haiying was waiting for a blunder, Lin Haoming didn't hesitate. He pulled a yellow paper talisman from his robe and tossed it. The talisman ignited in mid-air, releasing a flash of spiritual light and a burst of frigid air. A cloud of blue frost slammed into the beast, instantly freezing it solid—even though half its body was already underground.
"A mid-grade Ice Frost Talisman!" the crowd gasped.
Lin Haoming felt a sting of regret. That talisman was one of the few truly valuable things he had left, meant for saving his life. Using it here felt like a waste. A mid-grade Qi-Refining talisman like that was worth at least seven or eight spirit stones—a massive fortune for someone in his position.
However, his disappointment vanished when the Merit Beads in his Dantian vibrated. This reaction was much stronger than the one he got from simply putting beasts out of their misery. He looked at the two disciples responsible for drugging the beasts and realized the Merit came from them. If the beast had escaped on their watch, they would have faced severe punishment. By stopping it, Lin Haoming had saved their necks.
Realizing the two disciples were at the 8th level of Qi Refining, Lin Haoming leaned in and whispered, "Senior Brothers, I noticed the Manager patting this beast's nose with his right hand just before it woke up."
Their expressions shifted instantly. Ignoring the frozen beast, they stormed over to Li Haiying. "Show us your right hand!" they barked.
Li Haiying snapped back, "What are you doing?"
"Show it, or don't blame us for being impolite!" they threatened.
Li Haiying was at the peak of the 8th level, but against two experienced transport disciples, he was no match. In the Stupa Grotto, only the most capable were assigned to transport duty.
"Why should I? I'm one of Senior Brother Situ's men!" Li Haiying blustered.
"Then you can die," one of them coldly snorted.
A cold glint flashed through the air. Li Haiying let out a blood-curdling scream as his entire arm was severed at the shoulder.
"You... you dare attack a fellow disciple?!" Li Haiying clutched his stump, his eyes wide with terror.
The two disciples sneered. Li Haiying's mention of Situ Ping had sealed his fate—they were both followers of Zhou Zhiye, Situ Ping's rival.
The shorter man picked up the severed arm, sniffed the palm, and glared. "Thousand-Altar Wake-up scent. Li Haiying, what do you have to say? Purposely waking a spirit beast to let it escape is a high crime. You just became a manager; you wouldn't do this without orders. Tell us, who told you to do it?"
Li Haiying turned pale. His severed arm was in their hands; the evidence was undeniable. Terrified, he opened his mouth. "It... it was..."
Just as he was about to name names, a flying sword streaked through the air with blinding speed. It flashed across Li Haiying's throat, and his head tumbled to the ground.
Watching the head roll, Lin Haoming felt no joy, only a profound sense of desolation. Not long ago, he had been racking his brain to survive this man. Now, before he had even made a move, the man was dead.
In the Demonic Sect, the life of an outer disciple—even a manager—really was worth nothing.