Chapter Forty-One: Descent into Darkness

According to their agreement, Ye Yan let Cao Jialiang and another unknown member of Quanxing go. As for the brave Zheng Mengping, after taking two hard slaps from Lu Dashan, he was still in a state of existential doubt.

“Brother Yan, should we bury him?”

It’s said that those who stay close to vermilion become red, and those near ink become black. After spending so much time with Ye Yan, the demon spirits had also picked up some of the underground workers’ habits, developing a certain way of thinking.

“Let’s keep him for now.” Although Zheng Mengping was a bit of a fool and liked to play around, Ye Yan had no intention of taking his life, deciding to spare him.

There were three reasons for this.

First, Zheng Mengping hadn’t crossed Ye Yan’s bottom line.
Second, this fellow seemed to have a good relationship with Tu Junfang, and might prove useful as a bargaining chip.
Third, senseless slaughter was meaningless.
Of course, the third point was the most important.

Ye Yan had always considered himself rather kind-hearted, someone who couldn’t stand the sight of blood. So, over time, he developed the habit of burying people alive—not fatally, of course. As the old saying goes, there’s no patch of yellow earth that doesn’t cover a man. Fill one hole or another, it’s all the same.

“Lu Dashan, Jin Erpeng, Old Ma, and Jin Shelangjun, come with me inside. The rest of you stay here and keep an eye on Zheng Mengping.”

“Understood…”

Upon hearing Ye Yan’s command, Mo Lizha was the first to get excited. Two cherry-pink silk sashes emerged from his misty arms, snaking towards the unconscious Zheng Mengping like slender serpents.

With a few swift motions, Mo Lizha waved his hands like a conductor on a musical stage, manipulating his innate ability, the “Mo Family Chaos Sash,” to bind Zheng Mengping tightly with a tortoiseshell knot. Once finished, he even tied a big butterfly bow on Zheng Mengping’s chest before hanging the unconscious man from a tree.

“Impressive…”

Looking at the large, flamboyant pink bow on Zheng Mengping’s chest, which seemed to radiate a certain masculine energy, Ye Yan gave a thumbs-up. Mo Lizha grinned sheepishly.

As for Chen Duo, she followed Ye Yan quietly throughout, acting like a transparent shadow, never interfering with his decisions.

With Zheng Mengping dealt with, it was time to look for Tu Junfang.

Ye Yan wasted no time, striding toward the village with the four flag demons and Chen Duo in tow.

The moment he set foot in the village, Ye Yan felt a sudden restlessness, as if invisible hands were circling him, trying to rip something from within, making his heart race with unease. The deeper he ventured, the stronger this feeling grew.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Everyone, be careful,” Ye Yan quickly turned to warn Chen Duo, only to find her expression unchanged, as if she sensed nothing at all. Ye Yan was momentarily surprised, but soon regained his composure.

His eyes turned thick and hollow black, and black qi surged from within, forming a thin mist around him, like a shroud of black gauze.

“Blackened State: One of the two unique forms of the Night Watchman. When activated, it grants immunity to attacks on the mind, emotions, and soul, slightly enhances physical abilities, but as a side effect, strips away all emotion while it lasts.”

Ye Yan had used this blackened state before to withstand the root seed’s ability, “Usury,” emerging unscathed. Still, he rarely used it, for that emotionless rationality was a thousand times more terrifying than mindless frenzy. Every time he entered the “Blackened State,” he felt as though he were standing on the edge of an abyss, a single misstep away from falling into the depths.

Once the black gauze covered him, the restless agitation vanished, and Ye Yan became as cold as a machine.

Reason and emotion could not coexist.

Even the loyal flag demons behind him instinctively drew back a few paces, unwilling to get too close to the chilling black mist.

Ye Yan’s steps did not falter. He paid no mind to the flag demons’ reactions or Chen Duo’s expression. He simply pressed on toward the heart of the village, where deathly silence reigned.

This silence was no mere description—it was tangible. Though the village was large, apart from the few people he’d seen earlier, Ye Yan encountered not a single ordinary soul. He didn’t care. At this moment, his only thought was to find Tu Junfang.

He pressed onward.

Finally, as he neared the center of the village—a round-topped, cement-walled earthen building—Ye Yan came to a stop. Chen Duo and the demon spirits halted as well.

Not far ahead, at the entrance of the little building, a man sat crouched on the steps: brown-yellow windbreaker, dark hair, heavy shadows under his eyes. He watched Ye Yan with keen interest.

“Although I knew someone would come, I truly didn’t expect that someone would be you.”

Tu Junfang rose slowly, his gaze toward Ye Yan tinged with surprise and a hint of admiration. “It really is different, having the status of a chief. Even your reinforcements are frighteningly strong.”

He spoke of how formidable they were, but there was no fear on his face—if anything, he seemed more excited and curious.

“But…I’m very much looking forward to seeing what the Night Watchman’s Three Corpses are really like.”

Tu Junfang couldn’t resist licking his lips, his eyes burning with desire, as if he were looking at a seductive beauty who both resisted and yielded, his smile brimming with wicked delight.

Most exotics, especially old hands from Quanxing like Cao Jialiang, would be wary upon hearing Ye Yan’s name. But Tu Junfang showed none of that. He was not afraid of Ye Yan—his expression and reactions made that plain.

Tu Junfang’s reputation, while not as notorious as Ding Daoan, that battle maniac, certainly didn’t mean he was any less dangerous. Anyone who underestimated him would be sorely mistaken; his Three Corpses technique could humble even the proudest. Even Ye Yan dared not take him lightly. From the moment he entered the village, he’d used his trump card—the “Blackened Mode”—to avoid falling into Tu Junfang’s trap.

But wariness was not the same as fear. In fact, Ye Yan found dealing with Tu Junfang easier than facing Ding Daoan.

Tu Junfang’s specialty was manipulating the Three Corpses, harnessing and eroding desire to lure people into depravity and eternal torment, imprisoned in a sea of suffering.

But the “Blackened Mode,” immune to attacks on emotion, soul, and spirit, was one of the few sharp counters to Tu Junfang’s techniques—this was the source of Ye Yan’s confidence.

Xia He and Shen Chong were prime examples. Especially Xia He, who had the most contact with Ye Yan, yet her innate abilities had never once taken effect on him.

Ye Yan’s gaze was cold and hollow. “Don’t waste your effort. The Three Corpses won’t work on me.”

“I know,” Tu Junfang admitted openly, without a hint of concealment. “But doesn’t such a result only make the truth all the more intriguing?”