Chapter Seventy-Seven: A New Employee Joins

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He took the bait.

Zhou Qi was overjoyed, though he showed nothing on his face. He stopped and asked, “Elder, what is it?”

“I observe that you and your wife are dignified in appearance, harmonious as a pair, yet your foreheads are shrouded in darkness—a sure sign that bloodshed awaits you on your journey.” The old man’s tone was cryptic and profound.

“Oh, really? What should we do about it?” Zhou Qi replied, signaling for Jiu’er to move to the other side to set up an encirclement.

“You must be carrying something inauspicious. Why not let me examine you? It would spare your companion any calamity.” Seeing Zhou Qi was startled, the old man’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“In that case, elder, catch this!” Zhou Qi tossed the formation disk in his hand directly at the old man.

The old man realized something was wrong, but it was too late. The Bewitching Immortal Array quickly enveloped him, sealing his senses—the old man was now helpless, a fish on the chopping block.

Using a watered-down version of the Bewitching Immortal Array, capable of trapping a Nascent Soul cultivator, just to deal with a mere second stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, was certainly overkill. But Zhou Qi didn’t care; he had plenty of succubus blood now, and could always carve another array after using this one.

If a lion uses all its strength to hunt a rabbit, how much more so for a particularly slippery one?

Zhou Qi entered the array, knocked the dazed old man unconscious, bound him up, and only then dragged him out, waiting patiently for him to wake.

Moments later, the old man awoke to see Zhou Qi and Jiu’er grinning at him. “Friend, we have no enmity between us. Why go to such lengths?” he protested.

Zhou Qi chuckled darkly. “Friend, I see darkness upon your brow. I fear that before long, bloodshed will be upon you. Hand over your storage ring for inspection, and perhaps I can help ward off disaster.”

The old man’s face darkened. Wasn’t that supposed to be his line? Had he offended this man before? He didn’t recognize him. Why were young people nowadays so devious, playing the fool while hiding their strength? Robbery would be a hard trade to make a living in at this rate.

“Friend, you may not know this, but you’ve come too late. I’ve already been robbed once outside Suiye City,” the old man said helplessly, recounting how he’d been cleaned out, left with nothing but the clothes scavenged from a corpse.

Truly, evil meets its own doom—retribution had come swiftly for the old man. Zhou Qi, hearing the tale, felt his gloom swept away. Good people will always be rewarded in time. Though Huangfu Xiu was not exactly a good person, she was certainly no villain; she would surely be safe.

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“Friend, give me one good reason to spare your life,” Zhou Qi threatened.

“Kind sir, just let me go. Look at me—my cultivation is mediocre, I’m unfit to be a henchman, too old and feeble to please anyone, only a burden to you. If you let me live, you’ll accumulate boundless merit,” the old man pleaded.

Zhou Qi shook his head. “You rob anyone you see, and now you talk of merit? If you’re truly useless, you might as well leave this world early and seek paradise sooner.” With that, Zhou Qi raised his Immortal-Slaying Sword. He had no intention of killing—the old man was no real threat, and indiscriminate killing was no different from being a beast.

Seeing Zhou Qi brandish his sword, the old man was terrified out of his wits. “Friend, let’s talk things over! I am useful! I’ve traveled far and wide, know the length and breadth of the Heavenly Profound Continent—at least in the Huangxuan Region, there’s nothing I don’t know!”

Now Zhou Qi’s interest was piqued, and he quickly inquired about the Daoist lands, specifically if the old man had heard of Dragon Burial Valley.

The old man explained that he had lived among Daoist sects, but those cultivators were always chanting about subduing demons. No demon or monster dared survive within their sphere of influence. With no monsters to hunt, the Daoists turned to eliminating evildoers among humans—making people like the old man their prime targets.

Those Daoists often disguised themselves as weak cultivators to lure robbers, only to turn the tables and strip the bandits clean, all in the name of justice. Unable to survive, the old man had fled to the territory of the Huangfu clan, only to find so many of his own trade there that he’d been robbed bare himself.

Zhou Qi couldn’t help but laugh at the old man’s complaints—a pitiable soul who’d chosen the wrong path. With such modest cultivation, he’d picked such a high-risk trade; being ruined was only a matter of time.

The old man continued: within the Daoist sects’ territory, there was a place much like the Dragon Burial Valley Zhou Qi sought—a place called Ansi Valley, a forbidden land for humans, filled with deadly miasma. Ordinary people would perish at a touch, yet the fanatical Daoist cultivators used the valley’s foul energy to temper their bodies, only daring to stay at the outskirts—no one had ever ventured inside, and no one knew what lay at its heart. If there was a place called “Valley,” it could only be this one.

Zhou Qi was delighted. Ansi Valley was very likely the legendary Dragon Burial Valley; this old man was indeed his lucky star.

But how should he deal with him? If let go, the man would likely return to his evil ways. Killing him wasn’t quite justified, and Zhou Qi still needed a guide.

After some thought, Zhou Qi decided to expand his business—he already had three “workers;” one more wouldn’t hurt.

“Would you be interested in working for me?” Zhou Qi asked.

“Working…?” The old man looked utterly bewildered.

“Yes, you work for me, follow my orders, and I’ll pay you spirit stones for cultivation—a hundred low-grade stones a month. If you perform well, you can request a raise. No holidays,” Zhou Qi explained.

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“You want me as your slave?” The old man shook his head vehemently, “I would rather die than be a slave.”

“Not a slave. I won’t make you kill yourself or do anything that harms you. We’re simply partners, and you can leave anytime,” Zhou Qi said.

“Really not a slave? You’ll let me go at the end?” The old man was skeptical.

Zhou Qi nodded sincerely. “But you’ll need to pass a six-month probation. During that time, if you plot against me, you’ll die instantly.” With that, he casually shoved a pill into the old man’s mouth. “After six months, I’ll give you the antidote.”

“How is this any different from being a slave?” The old man was devastated, not even knowing what he had swallowed.

“No, it’s different—a matter of wording,” Zhou Qi corrected him.

The old man could only accept his fate—this man wanted to have it both ways, playing both the villain and the righteous man.

The old man’s name was Bai Gan—White Dry? Zhou Qi chuckled at the name. He had Bai Gan call him “Boss,” while he called the old man “Little Bai.”

Jiu’er, standing to the side, was speechless. She’d almost ended up with the nickname “Little Bai” herself, but now an old, crafty cultivator bore the name. Who would believe it if they heard?

Having recruited another cheap hand, Zhou Qi was in high spirits. The path to becoming a true boss required patience—step by step, he would make it real.

At last, the shapeshifting spell wore off. Little Bai watched Zhou Qi’s face shift and gradually recognized him. So it was true—a person really could stumble over the same stone twice in the same place.