This is almost the legendary Hell. He closed his eyes. Updates are released by NovєlFіre.net This hellish scene was created by his own hands, yet his face was strangely calm, and his hands became still, resting on the knife handle until the screams faded away. Then, sobbing and another form of wailing gradually rose, causing his hands to tremble slightly. Someone came out, kowtowed heavily a few times towards him, then left, hugging grain and silver without looking back. Wang Anfeng took the kerosene from the village, sprinkled it everywhere, and then cleaved a trench on the ground with the blade, isolating the village from the other mountains and forests. He stood beneath this unnamed peak, raising his right hand. Flames entwined on his five fingers. The fire of the Qilin Divine Weapon was more dangerous than the thunder he wielded. Without the will of the weapon's owner, it would never cease unless everything was burned to nothingness; neither water nor dust could stop the terrifying temperature born from spiritual resonance. If nothing went wrong, this should correspond to the mighty power of a Martial Artist Grandmaster. The fire spread wildly, burning and engulfing the village. He inverted the Mo Blade into the ground with his right hand, then sat cross-legged, clasped the Buddha Beads between his thumb and index finger, and pressed his palms together in calmness. "Namo Amitabhāya tathāgatāya..." The last to leave the cage was a man in his fifties. His clothes were somewhat thin, his skin stretched tight like fabric, shockingly highlighting the contours of his ribs and chest bones. He wrapped the thick clothes of a few bandits around himself to fend off the cold wind, then advanced with the help of a broken short spear. Though they had suffered torment, they ate rotting food daily, so their greatest issue was mental numbness. The body was merely weakened because those unwilling to eat had perished, and even those who were willing but frail fell dead to weakness. He clutched the silver, grabbed onto dry rations with his right hand, nibbling at the long-missed white steamed bun, slowly savoring the rich taste of the fine grain spreading in his mouth. He felt the long-lost desire for life return to his decayed body. The numb eyes lit up. He wanted to go back home. He no longer had silver or goods, but he still had a home, family, chubby grandchildren, a son with furrowed brows, and an old wife who always grumbled incessantly. He hadn't been back for so long, she must have cried her eyes red. She had loved to cry since she was a child. How long has it been? How long since he went back? A scarlet horse brushed past him like a whirlwind. He turned his head to look, seeing the mountain top enveloped in raging flames and the majestic steed, like the mount of a Heavenly God, stopping beside a silhouetted figure. That figure sat cross-legged on the ground, facing the flames, back straight and unyielding. The cloak behind him flapped and rustled. Unknown words lingered around the old man's ears, making his heart grow ever more tranquil. Looking at the sky, he wanted to cry aloud, thinking of the elegant bandit leader, disfigured and tortured to death, whose eyes stared fiercely at the wooden door in his dying breath, with a voice squeezed from his throat, filled with venom, scraping at the ears like a knife. "You killed so many people, your methods so ruthless, you will meet your retribution." "I'll be waiting for you below in hell..." Then he breathed his last. As he walked out and saw the sun, he heard a voice from the young man standing outside with the sword, one that didn't seem cold, calm, and clear, mingling with the sound of the cloak fluttering, like a river quietly flowing through an oasis. The old man turned his head; the wood on the mountain had burned to white ash, blowing in the wind everywhere, covering the ground. The old man squinted, thinking of the snow in his hometown, exhaling from the depths of his heart and lungs, murmuring: "Blanketed in white..." PS: Today's update is presented... Six thousand two hundred words. Thanks for the 14,000 starting coins from Bear Child's Mask, thank you.