Only after the last wounded soldier disappeared into the tunnel did Qingchen turn around.
His gaze swept over the remaining Shuangying Society soldiers, his eyes sharp as knives; whoever his gaze fell upon tensed involuntarily.
Finally, his gaze settled on the two bandits still panting:
One was a lowly bandit with a slashed arm, groaning on the ground; the other was their severely wounded leader, Tie Niu.
“Tie these two up, with ropes soaked in cold water, tighten them up.”
“After you’re done, put some medicine on their wounds, don’t let them die, I still have questions to ask.”
Hearing Qingchen’s order, the soldiers dared not delay, rummaging through their backpacks to find the thick hemp ropes they had prepared beforehand.
The ropes, soaked in cold water, were tightened with each loop as they wrapped around the bandits, the knots secured with wooden wedges.
The lowly bandit convulsed in pain, while Tie Niu gritted his teeth.
While applying medicine to a bandit, a soldier accidentally touched a wound with his finger. The bandit cried out in pain, and the soldier's hand trembled, spilling most of the powder.
Qing Chen raised an eyebrow, and the soldier's face turned deathly pale. He immediately knelt down to beg for forgiveness.
"What's the panic?" Qing Chen kicked away the medicine jar in front of him. "If you're out of medicine, search the dead. Don't waste time here."
After dealing with the prisoners, Qing Chen's gaze swept over the corpses scattered on the ground—some in soldiers' uniforms, others bandits.
He frowned. "What are you standing there for? Carry all these corpses to the north cliff of Beiman Mountain and throw them down. Leave no one alive."
The soldiers were terrified but dared not disobey.
Below the north cliff was a bottomless, rocky wasteland; throwing them down would mean losing even their bones.
Two soldiers carried a corpse, stepping on the loose stones along the cliff edge.
A quarter of an hour later, a series of dull thuds echoed from below the cliff, like rotten melons hitting rocks, sending chills down one's spine.
Strangely enough, Qingchen had just heard Young Master Zhao shouting and yelling over there.
But now that the fight had started, Young Master Zhao had become as quiet as a cat, not daring to utter a sound.
This saved Qingchen a lot of trouble; he no longer needed to pay attention to that noisy fellow.
He pointed to four nimble soldiers, indicating the thatched hut, and said, "You guard this place. Don't let anyone near, and don't let anyone out. If anything happens, it's death."
The soldiers responded in unison, their hands on their sword sheaths.
Having made the arrangements, Qingchen led the remaining soldiers, escorting the two bandits who were bound like dumplings, towards a patch of withered grass not far away.
The grass was waist-high, filled with dry roots and pebbles.
Qingchen found a flat rock to sit on and pointed at the two bandits: "Give them a good thrashing, aim for places that aren't vital."
One soldier pulled a leather whip from his backpack. He flicked it, and a sharp "crack" made the bandit tremble.
The other soldier clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking.
They didn't hesitate; they knew Qingchen's ruthless methods and temperament.
The whip struck the bandit's arm first; the leather whip, coated with grit, left a bloody welt with each strike.
The bandit's body twisted in agony, making muffled noises, the smelly sock still in his mouth.
Tie Niu turned his head to the side, his eyes closed, but the veins on his neck throbbed visibly.
“Let’s find another spot,” Qing Chen smiled.
The soldier obeyed, the whip striking the bandit’s calves, quickly leaving swollen, purplish-black welts.
Tears and snot streamed down the bandit’s face.
Tie Niu was punched in the ribs, groaning with each blow, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the two bandits were covered in blood, too exhausted to even struggle.
One of the ordinary bandits tried to speak, but his mouth was gagged with a smelly sock, only able to utter indistinct whimpers.
He struggled to break free, but the ropes bound him tightly, rendering him immobile.
His eyes revealed despair and pleading, as if begging Qing Chen for mercy.
Qingchen then raised his hand: "Stop. Take the socks out of their mouths."
As soon as the socks were removed, one of the bandits cried out urgently, his voice trembling with sobs, spitting out a mixture of saliva and blood:
"Sir! Sir, spare me! Don't hit me! Don't hit me! I'll confess whatever you want to know! My name is Jiang San, I'm just a errand boy, I've never killed anyone!"
"Jiang San, you traitor!"
Tie Niu suddenly opened his eyes, struggling to lunge forward, but the rope tightened around his shoulder, drawing blood. "Jiang San, you traitor, I'll kill you!"
"I'll confess, I'll confess everything!" Jiang San cried even harder, "Sir, this Tie Niu is Diao Ye's confidant. Diao Ye ordered him to watch over Young Master Zhao in the back mountain, afraid the other bandits might harm him!"
Qingchen didn't speak, but pulled a short knife from his boot.
He patted Jiang San's face with the back of his knife, blood staining the blade, a chilling smile playing on his lips:
"Heh heh, that was just an appetizer. You two, talk separately. If your testimonies don't match,"
"I'll chop off your fingers and toes, one by one. After that, I'll cut off your manhood too, and you'll have to swallow it."
These words sent a chill down the spines of the two soldiers beside him, instinctively clamping their legs together.
Tie Niu's face turned deathly pale, his previous bravado completely gone.
Jiang San, terrified, wet himself. A foul stench mixed with the smell of blood wafted over, and he kept shouting:
"Sir, I'll confess everything! I'll confess everything!"
Qing Chen had a soldier pull Jiang San aside, while he stared at Tie Niu.
Tie Niu remained silent for a long while before finally speaking, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded:
"Master Diao did indeed ask me to keep an eye on Young Master Zhao, fearing that bandits from other mountains might kidnap him and incur the wrath of the City Lord of Jincheng."
"The City Lord of Jincheng?" Qing Chen's fingers clenched suddenly. "Master Diao wants to pledge allegiance to the City Lord of Jincheng?"
Tie Niu nodded: "Master Diao was originally the second-in-command of Beiman Mountain. He killed the previous leader and his son.
Master Diao is keeping Young Master Zhao alive to show his loyalty to the City Lord, to find the City Lord of Jincheng as his backer..."
"What about his daughter-in-law?"
"Master Diao doesn't care about his daughter-in-law's life or death!" Tie Niu said with a bitter smile, "A woman, if she dies, she dies. But if this matter blows up, he won't be able to hold onto his position..."
The time it takes for an incense stick to burn passed quietly. Qingchen closed his eyes in deep thought, his heart churning with turmoil.
He couldn't help but sigh.
Those who could become high-ranking officials, those who could become powerful gangsters—their hearts were truly ruthless.
Qingchen suddenly realized that his previous ruthlessness paled in comparison to that of Master Diao.
"It seems that to survive in this chaotic world, one must become even more ruthless,"