Chapter 721: Chapter 721

The battle had ended, and Meng Zifei immediately approached. His expression was agitated as he looked at Baili An and asked, "Si Chen, how could you appear here?"

Baili An was about to speak but noticed the faint shade of ashen gray death on the weak face of the young cultivator leaning on his shoulder.

His gaze shifted, and he said solemnly, "We need to save him first."

Meng Zifei came to his senses, "Yes, yes! Save him first, save him first."

His breathing was very disordered, obviously suffering from severe internal injuries, yet he still methodically handed Jiang Shaoyu over to Baili An.

Meng Zifei carefully removed his outer garment and spread it on the ground before gently placing him on the clothed surface.

Jiang Shaoyu’s consciousness was clearly fading as he clutched desperately at Meng Zifei’s sleeve, gasping, "Save me... save me... I don’t want to die."

Meng Zifei patted the back of his hand to soothe him, then bent down to inspect the injury on his leg.

The foot torn by the Yin Silk Hand was beyond repair. Not only were the tendons severed, but the jagged, flesh-torn wound was also emitting a distinctly poisonous, bluish-gray color, spreading rapidly up his calf and already reaching his thigh.

Meng Zifei made a swift decision without a hint of hesitation, and with a slash of his sword, he amputated the entire leg.

By this time, the severe poison from the Yin Silk Hand had numbed Jiang Shaoyu’s pain. His pale lips didn’t quiver, and he just looked sorrowfully at his severed leg flying away, unconsciously tensing his body and murmuring in a rough voice, "Thank you... thank you, Meng, for saving me..."

Meng Zifei hurriedly said, "It’s alright now; Si Chen has saved us. We won’t be in trouble tonight."

Grateful and deeply respectful, Jiang Shaoyu looked at Baili An and said, "Thank you for your righteous help."

"You’re welcome." Baili An, who had some hemostatic medicine, quickly bandaged his wound and asked, "What’s going on with this valley? I saw many stables being built in the mountains housing a large number of human cultivators. It looks like..."

Meng Zifei gave a bitter smile and replied, "It looks like they’re being bred like livestock, doesn’t it?"

Baili An didn’t respond to his remark but continued looking into Meng Zifei’s eyes. "It has been a long time since Ghost Mountain, Young Master Meng. Where have you been? I searched for you long and hard at the Bronze Gate but never found a trace of you. I thought something might have happened to you inside the Bronze Gate."

Meng Zifei’s expression stiffened slightly, then he slowly lowered his head, gently wiping the longsword on his arm with his sleeve.

It was a habit he often had when troubled, subconsciously wiping the horsetail whisk that was usually tied around his arm.

Only, the old horsetail whisk was gone, and the sword he held now was one Baili An had never seen him wear before—clearly a new Spirit Sword.

Meng Zifei was silent for a long time. Just when Baili An thought he was deliberately avoiding the question, Meng Zifei suddenly spoke out, "Si Chen, there’s no need for probing words."

Meng Zifei looked up, the pupils of his eyes seeming to burn with intense fire. He was earnest and frank, "You guessed right. I... I have aligned myself with the Demon Clan."

Baili An was slightly taken aback by his confession.

In contrast, Jiang Shaoyu, who was resting with closed eyes, was caught off-guard by these words, as if thunder had exploded beside his ear.

He quickly opened his eyes in disbelief and said, "How could you join the Demon Clan, Meng? Are you joking with me?"

If he were a craven soul who had joined the Demon Clan, how could he have resolutely stepped forward to save him in such a desperate situation?

Meng Zifei’s unusual honesty made it difficult for Baili An to continue questioning him.

Baili An seemed indifferent to Meng Zifei’s allegiance to the Demon Clan. He simply looked at the sword on his arm, shook his head and said, "It’s just a pity for that sword and horsetail whisk. Young Master Meng really is generous."

Meng Zifei trembled slightly, a rush of emotions surging to his throat, his complexion turning a faint shade of pale green. Lost in thought, he murmured after a long pause, "Do you resent me, Brother Si Chen?"

Baili An shook his head and replied, "Land that is thin does not produce large plants, and shallow waters do not harbor big fish. Young Master Meng has never been small-minded. Moths may transform into cicadas—whatever your motives for joining the demons, you know best. No outsider should judge that. I am neither a saint who punishes all the evils of the Mortal World nor a Taoist who exorcises demons. To bear resentment is too weighty a word."

Meng Zifei’s eyes deepened, and he gave a self-deprecating laugh, "A gentleman is broad-minded, and a petty person harbors jealousy. I, Meng, was indeed too narrow-minded."

Baili An didn’t think of himself as particularly magnanimous.

He just believed that the world was already full of countless demons and spirits, and he himself was certainly not one of the virtuous.

If he had to feel resentful and annoyed at each human cultivator that joined the Demon Clan, wouldn’t that make life far too exhausting?

He was merely not so cynical.

Baili An wiped the Demon Blood off the Heavenly Strategy Jun Mountain Sword, then said, "Since Young Master Meng has allied himself with the Demon Clan, why have you ended up here? And why are there so many humans confined in this valley?"

Meng Zifei’s face was a blend of bitterness and distress as he explained, "These are all war slaves."

"Yes, similar to the demons oppressed and subdued by various celestial palaces and sects in the Mortal World. The Taixuan Sect, Cangwu Palace, and Tianxi Sword Sect have established places like Demon Suppressing Mountain, Demon Punishment Hall, and Sin Sword Pool specifically for imprisoning the demons subdued by their disciples. And this Hundred Hills Mountain is a Slave Camp established by the Demon Clan specifically for us human cultivators."