Slaughterhouse

Heishan is a dangerous place on the mountainside.

The main path leading to the interior was blocked by rows of wooden stakes, and there were sentry towers that made it feel like a military base.

Wang Jun, with a smile on his face, often walked along the narrow path, not in the mood to observe, and quietly thought, "I've killed people."

Yes, he had killed two people.

He had crossed the starry continent and was a martial artist, so such things were bound to happen sooner or later.

"Strange," Wang Jun said with a smile, "Elder Wei's arm was cut off at the grudge platform. I saw blood almost spurt out. Why didn't the first killing shock me?"

Xie Yijian had killed two robbers one after the other.

The system explained, "Because the host has adapted to the new identity, the star meteor continent is a place where the strong prey on the weak, and you have enough knowledge to not be surprised."

"Oh," Wang Jun chuckled and understood.

Setting aside his thoughts, he began to look at the surrounding environment and thought, "This place is surrounded by mountains on three sides, and the only entrance is heavily guarded. It would be very difficult to launch an attack."

Indeed, the eunuchs and factions had suffered a lot here.

"Go!" a thief in front said harshly, and dozens of thieves with swords and guns followed, all eyeing Wang Jun and laughing.

Although two of their comrades had been killed, they didn't rush to attack him and turn him into a meat sauce. The big boss had ordered them to bring him to the hideout instead.

"Third brother, I don't get it. Why didn't he let us handle it and instead brought him into the mountains?"

"This guy is the leader of the Solid Strike School. The boss must consider his reputation in the martial arts world, so he didn't let us do it."

"Oh, what kind of person could be the leader?"

"I've been in Azure Sun County for a long time and have never seen a martial arts like him. He must be some little guy without any experience."

The Black Mountain thieves chatted among themselves, and when it came to Wang Jun's identity, they seemed to agree that he appeared quite inexperienced to be the leader of a martial arts faction.

"Hey" 

Wang Jun's sighed. In that moment, he wished he could wear a sign on his forehead that said, 'I'm the boss,' to prove that he truly held that position!

"Brother, do you think this guy might be impersonating someone?"

"If he dared to impersonate and was caught by the master, he'd be in big trouble."

"Ah, I hope he's an impersonator, so I can witness some impressive torture techniques!"

Under the escort of dozens of robbers, Wang Jun laughed his way through the guarded layers until they reached a wooden gate with the words "Black Mountain" carved on it.

Alas, these thieves had carved out their own territory.

"Open the door!"

The two wide wooden doors slowly creaked open, and the leading pirate said casually, "Kid, come with me."

Wang Jun, still wearing a smile, followed him into the stronghold.

Inside the Black Mountain Stronghold, it was even larger than the Solid Strike School, with many simple wooden houses lining both sides.

"Snapped!"

"Snapped!"

As soon as Wang Jun entered, he heard the sound of someone being flogged, and he couldn't help but shiver.

In the distance, on an open ground, there were five wooden stakes, each with a person tied to it. They had disheveled clothes, shaved heads, bloodstains, and visible whip marks on their battered bodies.

A muscular mountain thief, shirtless and imposing, lashed one of the captives, but there was only the sound of the whip cracking, no screams.

Wang Jun's initial smile turned into a grimace of disgust as he observed the horrific scene. The lack of screams from the tortured victims was an unsettling sign that they were teetering on the edge of death.

"We... Save me..." Feeble groans and moans, barely audible, reached Wang Jun's ears, like distant echoes of despair.

Unable to turn away, Wang Jun lowered his head and saw a man sprawled on the ground, his body slowly writhing in agony. The man's legs had been brutally severed, leaving behind two gruesome trails of blood on the ground. The man's face, contorted with a horrifying mix of fear, despair, and excruciating pain, told a haunting story. It was as if he knew his fate was sealed, yet he desperately clung to a faint glimmer of hope.

"Thud!"

Wang Jun's heart sank as the cruel executioner swung his sword, bringing it down with chilling finality. The man's head was severed from his body, and it hit the ground with a sickening sound.

The thief, showing no remorse, raised his bloodied sword once more. With a brutal kick, he sent the severed head tumbling into a brazier filled with searing charcoal embers. As the head met the burning coals, the thief's vile curse echoed through the air, "Even without legs, this **** kept crawling."

Wang Jun stood there, his emotions churning within him. He couldn't shake the images of torment and death that surrounded him. The brutality of this place had reached a level that defied comprehension. As his initial revulsion transformed into a burning rage. 

"Brother Niu, that guy was going to die anyway. Why prolong his suffering?" one of the thieves remarked, their voice tinged with a hint of indifference, as if life and death were mere trivialities here.

"Looks like Niu here has a soft spot and wanted to give him a chance," 

another thief quipped sarcastically, their laughter revealing a disturbing sense of amusement at the grotesque spectacle they had just witnessed.

"Damn!" 

Niu, the thief who had initiated this act of cruelty, retorted sharply, his anger briefly breaking through his façade of cold-heartedness. "This place is so filthy, I can't clean it," he added, his tone laced with frustration.

"True, true," the others chimed in, nodding in agreement, their laughter echoing among the thieves as if they were sharing a dark, inside joke.

Wang Jun's smile, once present, had vanished entirely, replaced by a deepening frown. He continued to observe the scene with growing discomfort. There was not a trace of pity or remorse in the eyes of these robbers; they were, without a doubt, cold-blooded and ruthlessly desensitized to the suffering of others.

"What?" The leader of the gang, Yak Brother, sheathed his sword and approached.

Other robbers jumped down from the platform and fixed Wang Jun with curious gazes.

"Ka!" A mountain thief raised his hand, mimicking a strange noise while pretending to slit his throat, then grinned eerily.

The rest of the robbers scattered throughout the Stronghold noticed the newcomers and gave them icy glares.

For a moment, the hundreds of robbers in the hideout were all fixated on Wang Jun, wearing sinister smiles.

"Papapa!"

The relentless cracking of the whip echoed through the air, like a macabre percussion accompanying a gruesome performance. The whip-wielding robber showed no mercy, striking the already battered captive tied to the stake once more. But it didn't end there. He viciously seized the man's hair, entangled in a mess of blood and filth, and grumbled, "Damn, he's already dead, but I can't resist giving him a good beating."

Wang Jun's initial reaction of laughter had given way to a profound sense of revulsion. The sight before him was nothing short of a descent into the abyss of human cruelty.

Resolutely, Wang Jun pressed on, his steps guided by a mixture of dread and determination. Each pace he took unveiled a new scene of unspeakable horror. Numerous figures dangled from makeshift gallows or hung suspended by ropes, their bodies swaying like grotesque pendulums. Their heads hung lifelessly, eyes empty, as if the torment they had endured had drained them of all vitality.

"Damn it."

A modest house on the right emitted an angry diatribe, drawing Wang Jun's attention. A mountain thief emerged from within, still fastening his pants, but his irritation wasn't related to any act of decency. He spat out a curse, revealing a deep-seated frustration, "I turned my back for a moment, and the girl managed to bite her tongue and kill herself."

"Hey, I'll take a look."

"Damn, Xiao Ba, you're in a hurry even in death," a mountain thief taunted Xiao Ba, as if finding amusement in the relentless parade of horrors.

Undeterred by the grim reality, Xiao Ba hurried into the house with a disturbing nonchalance, and his response was chilling in its indifference, "It's been over half a year; even if it's a sow, I'd dare to go for it!"

Laughter erupted once more, but it was laughter tinged with madness and darkness. It was the kind of laughter that could only thrive in this pitiless abyss.

As Wang Jun continued his relentless journey through this nightmarish tableau, his earlier smiles had long vanished. In their place was an unwavering determination, a fire that had been stoked by the horrors he had witnessed. The grotesque brutality surrounding him had transcended any semblance of humanity. The bandits who once may have been human had now become monsters—a merciless pack of brutal, bloodthirsty beasts.

Wang Jun's laughter had long abandoned him as he ventured deeper into the nightmarish depths of the hideout. He never aspired to be a saint; he was just a man who had been thrust into a hellish reality. Yet, the scenes that unfolded before him were beyond the capacity of humor or levity. Instead, an unnameable rage began to simmer within him, a slow-burning furnace of fury.

Every step he took seemed to magnify the horrors he witnessed. The tortured corpses, grotesquely mangled and bearing the cruel scars of sadistic torment, painted a horrendous suffering. Some had endured whippings, their flesh rendered into a canvas of pain. Others had met fates even more grotesque, their shattered bones forming gruesome mounds, a testament to the relentless brutality that had unfolded in this sinister place.

If anyone had suggested that witnessing a hideout resembling a slaughterhouse could evoke both laughter and anger in Wang Jun, they would be partially correct. Laughter was no longer a part of his emotional spectrum; it had been eclipsed by a burning anger that threatened to consume him whole.

And then, there was that haunting image—the head kicked callously into the brazier, an act of barbarism that defied comprehension. The memory of it was etched into his mind like a scar, a vivid portrayal of despair, fear, and helplessness. Those dying eyes had silently pleaded for justice, their silent cries reverberating through Wang Jun's very soul.