The Pale-faced Man who kept watch with him.
“That bastard, he wants to kill me?!”
Why?
In his great rage, Scarface’s thoughts raced, and moments later he had his answer:
Replenishing from others’ Cultivation Technique!
The Pale-faced Man had repeatedly asked him for the Replenishing Cultivation Technique, which he never gave.
In the wilderness of Big Black Mountain, it’s not easy to snatch a female cultivator to use as a woman.
In Black Mountain Stronghold, he was not the only one practicing Replenishing from others; with more monks than porridge, those competing for women were naturally one fewer with each gone.
He would certainly not hand over the Replenishing Cultivation Technique to the Pale-faced Man.
This time, the Pale-faced Man’s ‘Spirit Slave’ died, and he wanted to switch to Replenishing from others, so he set his sights on him.
He tried to catch him off guard with the Fireball Technique, caused him to fall off the cliff by accident, and then took the opportunity to snatch his storage bag.
And in his storage bag was the Replenishing Cultivation Technique!
Scarface suddenly understood, and everything made sense.
“That son of a bitch, trying to kill me!”
Already seething with rage, and now with his anger rising to his head, he failed to notice that the Fireball Technique used in the ambush was faster and more accurate than what the Pale-faced Man could manage, but much less powerful.
Furious, Scarface couldn’t help but curse:
“Scheming against me, seriously asking for death!”
Suppression in his anger, Scarface’s face darkened as he walked toward the stronghold.
Mo Hua walked in front of him, first tossing his storage bag at the Pale-faced Man’s door, then knocked.
The Pale-faced Man was meditating in his room.
Without the Spirit Slave, his practice was extraordinarily slow, and he asked with displeasure, “Who is it?”
Mo Hua knocked again but did not speak.
The Pale-faced Man frowned, got up to open the door, and found a storage bag at the doorstep.
“Whose storage bag is this? What’s it doing here?”
A cultivator’s storage bag is an important possession, always kept close; it couldn’t just be thrown around.
Could this be some sort of trick?
The Pale-faced Man looked around warily but saw no one.
He looked down at the storage bag again and noticed that it was open, revealing some Spirit Stones and a book with the words “Replenishing” on the cover.
The Pale-faced Man paused for a moment, then was overjoyed.
He had been troubled that his Spirit Slave had died and it would be a hassle to raise another, seeking the Replenishing Cultivation Technique to no avail, but unexpectedly, luck had come without any effort on his part.
He who doesn’t seize the fortune bestowed upon him will ultimately invite disaster upon himself.
The Pale-faced Man picked up the storage bag feeling entirely justified, pulled out the Replenishing Cultivation Technique book, and was about to take a look when he looked up and saw Scarface walking over with a dark expression, his gaze fixed on the storage bag in his hand.
The Pale-faced Man was startled, paused to think, and couldn’t help but ask:
“Is this storage bag yours?”
Scarface nodded, his mind filled with curses:
“Still playing dumb with me? A coward who dares to do but not admit!”
Scarface held down his anger, asking, “How did it end up in your hands?”
The Pale-faced Man responded truthfully, “It fell at my door, I picked it up.”
Scarface’s eyelids twitched.
Couldn’t even come up with a decent lie, thinks I’m a fool?
“Give it to me,” Scarface reached out his hand.
However, the Pale-faced Man smiled and said, “I’ll give it to you, but I want to take a look at this Replenishing Cultivation Technique.”
Scarface nodded, “Fine.”
Once Scarface said this and stepped forward to take the storage bag, the Pale-faced Man, unsuspecting, put the Replenishing Cultivation Technique into his chest and handed over the storage bag.
The moment Scarface took hold of the storage bag, he suddenly exploded with movement, his claws sweeping through the air, his moves ruthless.
His fingertips, like fine iron and wrapped in a sinister green Spiritual Power, pierced directly through the Pale-faced Man’s heart meridian, and then he savagely tore downward, ripping open flesh and spattering blood everywhere.
The Pale-faced Man’s face was one of disbelief.
He tried to counterattack, but as soon as he raised his hand and before he could condense any Spell, Scarface had already gripped his throat.
The Pale-faced Man rasped, “Why… kill me?”
Hearing this, Scarface grew even angrier, “Still playing dumb, even when you’re about to die?”
After saying this, he squeezed hard, his fingers puncturing the Pale-faced Man’s neck, killing him instantly.