Chapter 110: Massacre in the Wind


    The four individuals stood around Han Ming, who remained motionless. One of them couldn''t help but entertain some devious thoughts.


    "Rin, I think this guy might be in some kind of trouble. Why don''t we search him? He might have some treasures on him," suggested the shorter man, his face brimming with greed.


    Rin''s eyes lit up at the idea. "You''re right. Go ahead and see if he has anything valuable."


    The man chuckled darkly and crouched beside Han Ming, reaching into his waistband. "Storage pouches! This guy has three of them!" he exclaimed, delighted by his discovery.


    But his joy was short-lived. "Ah! What... what is this?!" he screamed as a small red worm suddenly crawled out from nowhere and onto his hand.


    The other three instinctively stepped back. The man frantically tried to shake off the worm, but it clung stubbornly. To his horror, a black thread began to spread rapidly from his hand up his arm.


    "Ah! What kind of devilry is this? Rin, help me! Please!" he pleaded.


    Rin, however, showed no intention of helping. "Stay away from me!" she shouted as the man stumbled toward her.


    The black threads multiplied, enveloping the man''s entire body in an instant. His throat emitted a gurgling sound before he collapsed to the ground, his legs twitching a few times before he went still.


    The red worm, now free, danced gleefully on the man''s corpse, wiggling its tiny rear end.


    The remaining three stared in disbelief. The man who had just died was a third-tier Battle Frenzy warrior, a formidable figure even in the Monte Empire. His strength surpassed that of most city garrison commanders. Yet, he had been effortlessly killed by a tiny worm.


    Meanwhile, Han Ming remained fully focused on his internal struggle with the demon spirit. Despite numerous attempts, he had made no progress in reclaiming his core.


    The spirit was cunning. It neither returned Han Ming''s core to its original position nor pulled it closer. Instead, it continuously drained Han Ming''s magical energy. It had also discovered that excessive absorption would trigger the reappearance of the black mist, forcing it to moderate its consumption.


    However, Han Ming''s magical energy contained another element—a trace of life force that he had refined. This life force, absorbed by the spirit, caused its form to solidify, much to its delight.


    "Rin! Let''s kill this guy with one strike!" one of the remaining men suggested, his eyes gleaming with malice. Internally, he was thrilled. With one competitor gone, his chances with Rin had improved. The only other rival was the silent, uncommunicative man, whom Rin was unlikely to favor.


    Rin remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.


    Seizing the opportunity, the man drew his sword and thrust it toward Han Ming.


    At that critical moment, a faint female figure materialized in front of Han Ming. She raised a finger, and a silver thread shot out, wrapping around the man''s sword. With a gentle tug, the sword shattered into pieces.


    "This... this is a demon spirit! A spirit capable of taking human form!" The usually silent man finally spoke, retreating several steps in fear.


    Han Ming slowly opened his eyes, surprised to see the spirit standing before him. It had been inside him just moments ago but had emerged to protect him when it sensed danger. Realizing that his death would mean its own demise, the spirit had acted to save him. Though Han Ming could no longer use magic, he now had a fourth-tier ally—albeit a spectral one.


    Han Ming''s magic had always been of limited use, capable of little more than forming an ice spear that could easily be shattered by an ordinary weapon. Trading such a feeble ability for a powerful spirit seemed like a fair exchange. As for regaining his magic, he would figure that out later. For now, he would need to focus on absorbing more energy from magic crystals.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Han Ming cast a cold glance at the three remaining individuals before turning and striding toward the wild storm. The spirit, no longer returning to his body, followed him like a shadow.


    The silent man''s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "A spirit outside its host! Is this guy insane? Maintaining a spirit outside the body consumes an enormous amount of magical energy. No one would release their spirit unless absolutely necessary."


    Watching Han Ming''s retreating figure, Rin bit her lip and hurried after him, ignoring the other two men. "Friend, wait! Why don''t we travel together?"


    Han Ming ignored her and continued walking. Rin''s face flushed with embarrassment. She had always been the center of attention, with men vying for her favor. Yet, this ordinary-looking man showed no interest in her.


    The wild storm was a relentless tempest, its fierce winds buffeting even Han Ming''s sturdy body. The three trailing behind him struggled even more, leaning at sharp angles to keep up. Han Ming paid them no mind, focusing instead on his internal condition.


    He noticed that while he absorbed magical energy, only a small portion was truly refined, with the rest dissipating. Now, however, the wasted energy was being consumed by the spirit. This arrangement allowed him to sustain the spirit outside his body without depleting his own reserves.


    After nearly three days of trudging through the storm, they reached a small, wind-eroded hill.


    Rin and her companions had repeatedly wanted to stop for meals, but Han Ming never waited for them, forcing them to keep up. His indifference infuriated Rin.


    "Finally, a hill to shelter us from the wind," Rin sighed in relief, assuming Han Ming would stop here for a while.


    "Miss Rin, there''s something I don''t understand. That guy has a huge blood-red character floating above his head. What does it mean?" one of the men asked.


    Rin nodded slightly. The character "Slaughter" above Han Ming''s head had been impossible to miss since they first saw him. However, none of them knew its significance, so they had dismissed it.


    "I don''t know. Let''s rest for now."


    As they approached the hill, they noticed Han Ming standing at its base, his expression grave. Curious, they followed his gaze and nearly screamed at what they saw.


    At the foot of the hill lay over a dozen corpses. Some were long-dead, their flesh gone and bones weathered. Others were fresh, their wounds clearly inflicted by human hands.


    Han Ming studied the bodies silently before shielding his eyes and looking into the distance. A group of people was resting at the base of the hill, sheltered from the wind. He began walking toward them.


    Along the way, Han Ming encountered more human remains, his expression growing increasingly somber.


    The group ahead consisted of over a dozen Battle Frenzy experts guarding a covered wagon. They glanced up as Han Ming and his companions approached, their eyes lingering on the blood-red character above Han Ming''s head before returning to their meals.


    "Is that the Slaughter Mark of the Desert Serpent Clan?" one of the men whispered to his companion.


    The other nodded subtly.


    "Should we kill him?"


    "Look at him. He has a spirit outside his body. He''s no ordinary foe. Let''s not provoke him."


    "Good point."


    Han Ming sat at a distance, quietly eating. A familiar sense of danger crept over him.


    "It''s him," Han Ming thought, his eyelids twitching. The feeling was unmistakable—it was the old Battle Soul he had offended at the mercenary auction house.


    The Battle Frenzy warriors were resting peacefully when a black shadow flashed by. One of them clutched his throat as a deep, bloody gash appeared, blood spurting several meters into the air.


    "Who''s there?!" the others shouted, drawing their weapons and scanning their surroundings. But there was no one in sight, only their dead comrade.


    "Come out, you coward!" one of the warriors yelled, trying to mask his fear.


    An elderly man materialized before them, hunched and coughing. "Cough... cough... My friends, why don''t you leave your cargo and I''ll let you go unharmed?"


    The warriors exchanged uneasy glances. The cargo they were escorting was valuable, and surrendering it would ruin their reputation.


    "Elder, we''re from the Saber-Toothed Tiger Mercenary Group, one of the top three in the Monte Empire. Surely you''ve heard of us. Please, let us pass."


    The old man nodded. "Ah, the Saber-Toothed Tigers. Impressive. You may leave, but the cargo stays."


    "You—!" one of the high-tier warriors choked on his words.


    "Don''t push us! Do you really think—"


    Before he could finish, the old man vanished and reappeared behind him. The warrior clutched his throat and collapsed.


    The old man moved like a shadow, felling another warrior with each flash.


    Rin watched in horror. "That... that''s a Battle Soul! We need to run!" The other two men nodded frantically.


    Han Ming, however, stood and walked toward the chaos.


    "What are you doing? Stop!" Rin shouted, but Han Ming ignored her.


    By the time Han Ming reached the group, the old man had already killed over a dozen warriors.


    "The power of a Battle Soul is truly extraordinary," Han Ming thought grimly. He knew there was no escape. The old man was here for him.


    Screams echoed as the mercenaries fell one by one.


    "Hahaha... Brother Wind, your skills are as sharp as ever!"


    Just as the old man turned his gaze to Han Ming, a towering figure emerged from the distance. Each step he took was accompanied by the roaring flames of his combat aura.