Sometimes saying less works better than saying more. This was a demonic sect, not some charity house.
After Wang Yu walked away, the two men stood frozen in fear and doubt, not daring to approach him again.
That day's teaching session ended, and everyone returned to their stone houses.
***
**Day twenty-two as a spirit slave.**
Wang Yu continued approaching people from Stone Lake City, though he needed different methods for others.
Those willing to learn fell into three types:
Those who just accepted their fate, those who knew how things worked, and those with big dreams.
The first type was most common, the second less so, and the third was rare. Wang Yu found the ambitious ones easiest to convince. With Steward Duan's public support, his name carried weight now.
For those who truly wanted to become outer disciples, he just had to explain the benefits, show them the Ice Sword Art he'd received, and they quickly agreed.
By morning's end, he'd convinced seven people.
Then the two "friends" finally approached him, whispering nervously:
"We've got mixed or waste spiritual roots. There's no way we can break through in two months, especially when we can't even read. You're lying to us."
Wang Yu laughed coldly.
"This is the Reverse Blood Sect, not a charity! You think my talent is good? If you're willing to spend your lifespan, getting started is easy. You're no different."
This kind of foolish thinking appeared everywhere among common people. But once convinced, they became the most loyal followers.
The two fell silent. After a moment, they finally agreed.
"Good."
Wang Yu smiled and painted them a picture.
"If you want to stop being slaves, increase your monthly Spirit Sand to one tael and six mace. Only by being different will you catch the attention of Coldblood Peak's true disciples."
"This—"
The two looked at each other, too scared to argue, and could only nod.
Satisfied, Wang Yu moved on.
Over the next few days, he focused on the submissive types. They were easiest to scare into agreement, but also most likely to change sides.
Three stewards watched over the spirit slaves. Duan had picked him, but others might have their own chosen ones.
His active recruiting hadn't gone unnoticed.
So—he'd drawn attention.
***
**Day twenty-eight as a spirit slave.**
A group of tired, aging men with messy white hair gathered together. Their three leaders were all at Qi Refining's second layer, working for Steward Liu.
"Boss Fang, that Wang Yu kid has been stealing all the new people. Must be fifty or sixty by now. Will Steward Liu be angry?"
Boss Fang glared at Wang Yu moving in the distance.
"Angry or not, what can we do? We can't kill him. Spirit slaves belong to Coldblood Peak. Kill someone and you'll die painfully, with no escape for your soul."
"Then what?"
"Warn him first. If that doesn't work, break his arms and legs."
"And if that fails?"
Boss Fang stared coldly until his man stepped back. "Then we find some dying old man, kill him, and put the body in Wang Yu's room."
Framing him.
It wasn't that they were stupid—there just weren't many options here without breaking rules.
That's when their stewards would step in.
Whoever had more power would get more followers.
.....
.....
"Agree to this, and you might become an outer disciple like me someday. Your future will be bright."
"One tael eight mace of Spirit Sand, it's settled."
After convincing another townsman, Wang Yu counted—he was more than halfway to his goal. Maybe ten more days.
He didn't know if Steward Duan would keep his word. He could only hope. Questioning meant death for someone like him.
He remembered clearly: [One tael of Spirit Sand goes to Coldblood Peak. Anything extra goes to True Disciple Su!]
His escape depended on two things:
1. Steward Duan speaking for him.
2. True Disciple Su helping him.
Giving more benefits was how he proved his worth here. In the demonic path, this was what worked.
His townsmen would have to suffer for now. As he looked for his next target, over a dozen slaves surrounded him.
Three men stepped forward—Fang and his group.
"Hey kid, you're stealing our people."
Wang Yu frowned. They were in the main square, with outer disciples and stewards watching.
More importantly, the people from Stone Lake City were watching. If he showed weakness or got beaten, he was finished.
Most would join the stronger side.
This blockade was cutting off his path!
Maybe Fang hadn't thought that far—maybe he just wanted to scare Wang Yu off.
But Wang Yu's eyes turned red.
This was his only chance to change his fate. He needed to be careful, but also ruthless—ruthless in heart and action—to survive.
He couldn't lose this opportunity!
Maybe this was why Steward Duan had given him that spell.
"Ice Sword Art, go!"
The air around Wang Yu turned cold. Three ice swords appeared around him and shot toward Fang's group. Each man lost one hand and one foot.
Dark blood poured out.
"Ahhh—!"
The crowd jumped back, afraid of getting blood on them.
No talking. The moment they threatened him, he struck.
Fang lay terrified on the ground. The three ice swords didn't disappear but flew back to Wang Yu, now red with blood.
"Wang Yu, you can't kill me!
"Slaves can't kill each other! You'll die too!"
Wang Yu didn't care. He moved his hands, and the blood-red swords shot out again. Just then, a small seal fell from above, growing larger as it fell.
It smashed Wang Yu's three ice swords into dust.
Steward Duan arrived, putting the seal away in his sleeve. He frowned at Wang Yu.
"Calm down."
Seeing his backer, Wang Yu immediately put on a wronged face. He wasn't really crazy—just acting. He spoke first:
"Steward Duan, you're here! You have to help me!
"I don't even know these people. I was listening to the lecture when they surrounded me and threatened to break my arms and legs.
"I've given half my life to the Sacred Sect, just to produce Spirit Sand faster. And they want to kill someone who serves the Sect so faithfully!"
(End of the chapter)