Chapter Seventy-Seven: Private Property

A black banner stood upright at the entrance to the small mountain stronghold.

On the banner, woven from human skin and animal sinew, dozens of ferocious poisonous insects had been painted in animal blood. From the banner surged forth dozens of streams of black miasma, each one teeming with hundreds of thousands of venomous creatures of every hue. Their shrill buzzing and chirping, like the roar of the sea, swept toward Ji Hao.

Ji Hao stood before the gate, allowing the black miasma to crash against him.

The armor crafted by A’Bao emitted a faint, clear radiance. Countless insects within the miasma gnawed madly at Ji Hao’s body, but not one so much as touched a single hair on him. More venomous insects spat out their poison, but the venom, too, was deflected by the glow, unable to reach Ji Hao’s flesh.

Faint, feather-shaped red runes shimmered on Ji Hao’s skin, barely visible. Occasionally, a wisp of flame would flash from his body, and swathes of poisonous insects would be incinerated with crisp, crackling sounds, falling from the air in droves.

In the space of less than half an hour, a mound of insect carcasses two feet thick had piled up around Ji Hao.

Inside the stronghold, several wizened shamans with sallow, green-black skin shrieked hoarsely. Suddenly, they drew black daggers and plunged them into their own chests. The banner at the gate shuddered violently as hot blood spurted from the shamans' wounds, only to be drawn into the banner.

A piercing wail echoed out as black miasma swirled on the banner. From within, three gigantic, multicolored scorpions flew forth, their tails—each dozens of feet long—whipping through the air, their massive venomous stingers lashing viciously at Ji Hao’s chest.

The thin, almost intangible armor shimmered with light as the three scorpion stingers crashed down. With a thunderous crack, the stingers exploded into pulp, spraying venom and blood in all directions.

The old shamans within the stronghold collapsed like deflated sacks. In hopeless anguish, they howled their defeat as the banner at the gate was shattered by an unseen force, bursting into a cloud of black miasma that drifted away on the wind.

A quarter of an hour later, the tribesmen of the Insect Gu Clan filed out of the stronghold. At their head, several elders, trembling with fear, carried a jade-carved idol of the Five Poisons—the tribe’s totem—and laid it reverently at Ji Hao’s feet.

One of the allied tribes attacking Ji Hao, the Insect Gu Clan, met its end here.

...

Two days later, at the entrance to the Fierce Ghost Clan’s stronghold.

More than two hundred elite warriors left behind to defend the Fierce Ghost Clan screamed and roared wildly. Each one, no shorter than ten feet tall, wielded heavy blades and axes, hacking and slashing madly at Ji Hao.

The clear light flowed over Ji Hao’s form-fitting armor as he stood unmoved, letting the Fierce Ghost warriors exhaust themselves to no avail, not budging him an inch. In contrast, Ji Hao drew the curved blade he had seized from the Blackwater Dragon, and with a single, effortless cut, a dozen Fierce Ghost warriors were struck down, decapitated in an instant.

A deep, guttural roar sounded in the distance. Suddenly, a miserable howl rang out—a towering warrior, three stories tall, spewing blood, was dragged out of the stronghold by Old Stone, who gripped him roughly by the neck.

This was the last remaining Grand Shaman of the Fierce Ghost Clan, the very source of the warriors’ final shred of resistance. Old Stone, together with three stone companions, had burrowed up from underground and struck in a surprise attack, gravely wounding the Fierce Ghost Grand Shaman and shattering the clan’s will.

Groups of Fierce Ghost tribesmen filed out of the stronghold, fearfully and despairingly kneeling before Ji Hao, allowing the accompanying Fire Crow warriors to bind them tightly with sinew ropes imbued with shamanic magic.

...

The Shadow Demon Clan, the Blue Ox Clan, the Wild Ox Clan... the Sabertooth Clan, the Furious Lion Clan...

One after another, every tribe that had taken part in the siege against Ji Hao was violently subdued. Their elite warriors were offered up as sacrifices to the ancestral spirits of the Fire Crow Clan. These tribes stood no chance against Ji Hao’s mighty force, let alone the fact that among Old Stone, Old Tree Demon, and Lord Hengluo’s summoned companions, there were dozens of Grand Shamans.

With an unstoppable sweep, without encountering a single worthy adversary, Ji Hao captured alive millions from dozens of tribes. After being scattered and assigned at will, they became slaves of the Fire Crow Clan, sent off to toil in stockades, forests, hunting grounds, and mines.

In this flurry of conquest, Ji Hao was kept busy for over three months, devouring all the people of these tribes in one fell swoop.

When the long rainy season of the Southern Wilds was about to begin, Ji Hao finally led his great host back to Cold Creek Valley. After more than three months of fierce battles and arduous marches, Ji Hao had grown taller and sturdier, so that, seated upon his war beast, he looked much like any of the adult warriors of the Fire Crow Clan.

Perhaps the greatest difference now was the extraordinary brightness of Ji Hao’s gaze—a result of the Nine Syllable Mantra Elixir. When his eyes swept over others, they seemed to flash with lightning, so that even his closest Fire Crow companions dared not meet his eyes.

Moreover, as his cultivation advanced, his skin became increasingly lustrous, like the finest mutton-fat jade—radiant, smooth, and pale, with a pearly sheen, as though quicksilver flowed beneath the surface. Even among thousands of Fire Crow warriors, Ji Hao’s presence outshone all the rest.

From afar, Qing Fu, standing atop the Cold Creek Valley's ramparts, spotted Ji Hao.

Never before had Ji Hao been separated from Qing Fu for so long. She waved her right hand high and shouted joyfully, “Hao! You’re finally back! Mum’s made your favorite roast for you!”

Ji Hao burst out laughing. A streak of fire flashed behind him as he took a single stride, leaving a trail of flame and afterimages. In the blink of an eye, he crossed several miles, leaping onto the rampart and sweeping Qing Fu into his arms, spinning her around twice.

“Mum, Uncle and I are both back. Oh, and on the way we found several rare herbs for you—including the ‘Blood Swallow Orchid’ you’ve been seeking for years. Uncle nearly had his face clawed off by a Night Cat just to get it!”

Qing Fu exclaimed in surprise and glanced quickly at Qing Ying. Seeing his face unscathed, she finally smiled and gave Ji Hao a gentle slap. “Thank goodness. If your uncle’s face had been ruined, how would he ever find a wife?”

Qing Ying puffed out his chest proudly and laughed, “Sister, I don’t need my looks to woo girls anymore. I’m now the youngest Grand Shaman in the history of the Qingyi Clan. The girls flock to me!”

As they joked, Ji Xia approached with a large group of people. From a distance, Ji Xia laughed and called out, “Hao, you’re back! Come here—these warriors are now your personal slaves. They are your private property, and they’ll depend on you to survive from now on!”

Ji Hao was shocked.

Personal slaves?

He looked carefully at the mass of people behind Ji Xia and could not help but gasp in astonishment.

Were these people really his slaves? Their numbers and strength left Ji Hao completely stunned.

***

A whole crowd of musclebound servants!

Tsk—if this were modern times, having Grand Shaman-level slaves running a gym would be a spectacular idea!

Please vote to recommend this brilliant notion!

Just imagine how many young ladies would swoon!