### Chapter 13: The SpoilsLin Yi had talked big, but he knew handling five fifth-level Qi Refinement cultivators—all battle-hardened—would be no easy feat. Of course, he'd only dared say that because he was sure the raiders wouldn't send more men. If two or three more joined the fray, he'd truly be in over his head. After growling their unison "F*ck!", the five cultivators unleashed a barrage of spells at Lin Yi. The raiders were already weak overall; losing five fifth-level cultivators at once crippled their fighting strength. Casualties spiked—nearly seven or eight raiders fell in the time it took to brew a cup of tea. As for Lin Yi, he was forced to dodge狼狈 (lángbèi, 狼狈 - clumsily). Five fifth-level cultivators! Their spells were the most powerful they knew. Lin Yi didn't dare take chances—if the Flesh Transformation Technique failed to absorb them, he'd explode. Arrogant as his words were, Lin Yi always prioritized survival in battle. The five attacked from all sides, trying to box Lin Yi in. But he grew slipperier by the second, always evading one or two attackers. Taking hits from three was just barely manageable. Thus, after a full cup of tea—and seven or eight more raiders dead—the five still hadn't killed Lin Yi. Their frustration grew, eyes blazing as they stared at him. The spiritual energy from absorbed spells, converted via the Flesh Transformation Technique, pooled in Lin Yi's muscles, tempering them slowly. But the process was glacial. His muscles were now saturated with energy; if he didn't dispel it soon, he'd struggle to absorb more spells. Lin Yi was anxious too, though he hid it well. A closer look would've revealed his dodges growing faster, narrowly brushing past spells by a hair's breadth. "Keep attacking. I'll help Xu Lin." One of the sixth-level Qi Refinement male cultivators at the vanguard, seeing Lin Yi in peril, spoke to the others. He left the sixth-level cultivator from the Dianxuan Sect in charge, leading the remaining four to剿杀 (jiǎoshā, 剿杀 - annihilate) the raiders. This sixth-level cultivator, Peng Qingyun of Xuanfeng Cave, was the one who'd promised Lin Yi a spot if he held his own against the fourth-level member. Unlike the others, he truly treated Lin Yi as a teammate—perhaps due to his own background. Peng Qingyun moved, breaking off from the team. He操控ed his artifact to attack one of the five围攻 Lin Yi. With his sixth-level cultivation and no one targeting him, killing a fifth-level cultivator alone was relatively easy. Moreover, the five were blinded by rage, focused solely on killing Lin Yi, ignoring all else. They'd grown accustomed to the six staying occupied with their comrades, never expecting anyone to intervene here. So when Peng Qingyun's artifact struck, the targeted cultivator didn't react, still casting spells at Lin Yi. By the time he realized, the artifact was upon him. He barely shifted, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow. "Ah!" The cultivator screamed as his left arm and part of his shoulder were sliced off by Peng Qingyun's artifact, blood splattering the ground. "Haha! Brother Peng, thanks! I'll finish this old guy. Go on!" Lin Yi, seeing an opening, charged. While the injured cultivator writhed in pain, Lin Yi aimed his palms—surging with internal energy—at his chest. Boom! The cultivator flew backward, spitting blood. "Not dead? One more!" Lin Yi, surprised, pounced again. "Fifth-level Qi Refinement? So what! Who's arrogant now? Who looked down on me? Dammit, die!" Lin Yi rained blows on the immobile cultivator, ranting like he was settling a grudge. "Hmph! Disrespect me, and this is what you get!" He glared at the cultivator, whose chest was pulverized (pòlèi, pulverized - crushed to pulp), then took his storage bag, slinging it casually around his waist. Witnesses shuddered. This man was terrifying—he wouldn't stop even after his enemy was dead, leaving no remains. Lin Yi then, in full view, deftly looted storage bags from the corpses, hanging them from his waist. The remaining raiders seethed, but could only watch, too busy surviving to interfere. The six core disciples, disdainful of raider loot—viewing it as garbage—let him take it. Another cup of tea passed. The five fifth-level cultivators fighting Peng Qingyun retreated to join their remaining comrades. Only twelve raiders were left, yet they still didn't flee, their anxiety mounting—one or two glanced back repeatedly. In that time, Lin Yi had stripped all fallen raiders of their storage bags. He stepped back from the fray, consolidating their contents into one bag. He tossed aside thirty-odd shoddy storage bags—he had no space for them, and they couldn't hold other bags. Lin Yi winced at discarding them. In safety, he'd have sold them for a few low-grade spirit stones.
