Wen Jie looked coldly at Wang Anfeng and said: "You asked this question, you must have learned something, right?" Wang Anfeng was noncommittal. Wen Jie gritted his teeth and said: "The silver coins we obtained are the most important part. Logically, with so much income, even using just one year's revenue, all the brothers could live comfortably." "Why continue to take risks?" "Where did all that silver go? That's what you really want to know, isn't it?" Yang Mu's expression slightly changed upon hearing this. Wang Anfeng did not reply, he stroked his blade with his right hand and said calmly: Wen Jie's face slightly changed, seeing Wang Anfeng unmoved, he had to continue: "All the silver, ninety percent, is handed over to the old fortress leader. Everyone thinks the old leader is just ruthless, with average martial arts, but I know the old leader is a top figure in the Jianghu, only one step away from becoming a Grandmaster." "But the old leader only gives the tens of thousands of taels every year during the annual festival to another force... As for what that force is, I do not know, one must ask the old leader. I only know the recipient was once a woman with a mole on the corner of her eye, dressed in purple." "Well, Hero thinks, which of our statements is more important?" Yang Mu's expression changed, and he urgently said: "Wait, you only said that those who answered won't have to die, but you didn't say that you must kill one!" The 'Blade Madman' in front of them said calmly: "You both have told the truth, I will not kill you." As the words fell, the Mo Blade in his hand was reversed and inserted into the ground, with the blade pointing outward, signifying the intention not to kill. The hum resonated, and a sense of relief rose in the hearts of Yang Mu and Wen Jie. But before thoughts of resentment or hatred could take root, suddenly two strands of Finger Force erupted, invisible in action yet forceful beyond description, striking vital points on their bodies. Yang Mu spat blood, falling directly on his back on the ground, all his martial arts abolished, his breath feeble, yet he remained conscious, emitting screams from his mouth lying on the ground. The Sixth Rank Martial Artist Wen Jie only supported himself briefly before collapsing. Feeling the Qi Mechanism within his meridians completely unusable, the realization hit him instantly: he had been poisoned silently and invisibly. The fall felt as if he had received a heavy punch. Pain engulfed him whole, amplifying his already acute senses several times. He looked at the young man in black, gritting his teeth and said: "What do you want?" Read complete version only at novᴇlfire.net Wang Anfeng did not answer, holding the blade in his right hand, his left hand spread open with Vigorous Qi, capturing the two and taking to the air. From the highest point of the mountain, he leapt downward, and in that brief time, Wen Jie and Yang Mu saw many familiar people, now dead, lying everywhere. Each had one fatal knife wound, shocking to behold. This was merely a former mountain camp of the Great Wilderness Stronghold, a place high and lofty, with the Hall of Righteousness at the top, while the lower-tier members were situated on the level ground, the lowest point being the prison. All the water from the stronghold flowed here, accumulating a foul stench over time. Wang Anfeng landed here, his expression indifferent, and strode within. In the corner, fewer than ten people were alive, yet each was spiritless, their eyes numb as if dead, filthy wooden bowls in front filled with food even pigs or dogs wouldn't eat. As Wang Anfeng arrived, not even the slightest change occurred in their expressions. Like wood burned to ashes, all that remained was desolation. Wen Jie seemed to realize something, his face revealing fear and anger, saying: "What, what do you want to do?" Wang Anfeng raised his hand, drew his blade, the sharp edge slicing through iron chains, granting freedom to the prisoners who showed no more reaction than before. Until Wang Anfeng threw the two before them. Someone lifted their head. In those indifferent eyes, the most primal emotions barely stirred. Wang Anfeng reached into his robe, placing silver and food on the ground, his voice and demeanor remaining cold, saying: "The one in green robes is Wen Jie, Fortress Leader of the Great Wilderness Stronghold, the other is the Second Fortress Leader, Yang Mu." In those numb eyes, fine specks of spirit gradually became ripples, expanding into flames, wildfires spreading madly. Wang Anfeng stood, calmly said: "They have no martial arts now." Then he turned to leave. The wooden door closed, and within three breaths, Wen Jie and Yang Mu's cursing turned into twisted and hysterical screaming. After the Miracle Medicine intensified their senses, even the slightest pain faithfully spread throughout their bodies, gathering in their throats, transforming into screams, cries. Wang Anfeng closed his eyes, his hand trembling slightly, yet he did not leave. "Ah ah ah, my hand, get away, get away!" "My eyes! Wretched one, remove your hand, remove it!" "Countryfolk, I was once a military commander, you, hand me over to the Ministry of Punishment and Military Family, there's a hefty reward in silver... and martial arts of the first class in Jianghu... ahhhh!" The screams gradually softened, Wang Anfeng heard the sound of nails scraping flesh, sounds of gnawing, and faint cracking sounds... He almost didn't need to see to know. Because of torture, agonizing pain, those reduced to unrecognizable, emaciated forms, wearing filthy clothes, pressed down, lay upon two pallid martial artists clad in silk and satin, using teeth, using nails, using the most primal human weapons, venting their collapse and despair.