Nightmare Apostle

Yang Xiao casually flipped through a few pages, and the face hidden beneath his mask instantly darkened. Every sheet was packed with writing, and there were even a few half pages.

"Some people really don’t know gratitude. How has the Netherworld Emperor Captain treated us? You all know that in your hearts, yet someone dares to speak such nonsense—no different from a beast!" The One-Eyed Monk Great Monk hurried to make a statement and distance himself.

"Heh." Yang Xiao let out a cold sneer in his heart. Out of all these people, this one-eyed Great Monk was the most damn worthless piece of trash.

Seeing Yang Xiao turn his gaze toward him, the One-eyed Monk didn’t dare say another word, because right now everyone was staring at him with a very subtle look—to be precise, a look of contempt.

Still, Yang Xiao was a man of his word. He wasn’t going to make things hard for them; what he played with was reality.

Yang Xiao took those sheets of paper and left. Before leaving he especially warned them: no fighting or making trouble. If anyone dared raise a hand and injure someone during this period, that would prove they had the biggest problem with him, the Ming Emperor.

Benefiting from all the methods Yang Xiao had displayed before, these Evil Cultivators who had once made a name for themselves all over the place were now as obedient as model students in front of him.

They knew very well that the Ming Emperor wasn’t someone who liked to joke. When he threatened to paste someone into the wall, it wasn’t just some scary figure of speech—it was literal, like spreading batter for a crepe.

Yang Xiao walked into the elevator with the papers, his back relaxed, the whole person looking laid-back and unconcerned. But the moment the elevator doors closed, he immediately pulled out the papers and went through them page by page. He didn’t know before he looked; once he did, his blood pressure shot up.

They clearly had plenty of opinions. Those lines of "suggestions" couldn’t hide the resentment underneath, and every single one of them had a poisonous tongue.

It’s just that this bunch also knew how to play it. Everything was phrased as "I heard so-and-so said such-and-such," none of them willing to admit it was their own opinion.

Then they started slapping labels on each other and tattling. For example, one sheet went like this: "Three days ago, Ku Daoist said Ming Emperor Ye Xiao is petty, and the One-Eyed Monk Great Monk chimed in in agreement. Of all the people present, only I (crossed out) the Trickster spoke up in defense of our respected Netherworld Emperor Captain."

"I said the Netherworld Emperor Captain is someone worthy of respect, someone beneficial to the people, someone of noble character, and because of that I was attacked and mocked by the others."

"But I have no regrets. I do not seek merit or reward, only a clear conscience. People must learn to be grateful, to be grateful to the Ming Emperor. May the Lord bless him. Amen."

Yang Xiao didn’t even need to think—he knew this was written by that flunky Trickster. The guy was a good hand in a fight, but unfortunately his brain didn’t work so well; he’d been bitten back by a Magic Artifact and turned stupid.

Some of the stuff on these pages Yang Xiao recognized as reasonable; some were completely absurd demands. For instance, asking for a few women—just reading that made a surge of anger rise up in him.

The handwriting of the one who wrote this was very strange, obviously on purpose. Maybe they thought Yang Xiao wouldn’t be able to figure out who was who. That was way underestimating him.

Yang Xiao flipped the paper over, humming a little tune as he pulled a tiny flashlight from his pocket. As a purple light flared on, the back of the page clearly revealed a number: 3.

"Number 3..." Yang Xiao thought back to the seating arrangement at the time, and in an instant he knew who had written this note—no one else but that monk, the One-Eyed Monk Great Monk.

This almost made Yang Xiao so angry he laughed. This Monk went on and on about "this poor monk," oil lamps and ancient Buddhas, the Buddha’s mercy and all that, yet he was the one with the most scheming mind. This fake Monk was rotten to the core.

Among all these slips of paper, there was only one that was almost blank, with just a single line: When the three years are up, I hope you keep your promise.

One look and Yang Xiao knew this one was written by Chen Nang. He was a smart man; he knew Yang Xiao would be able to identify the author of each note, and he also knew Yang Xiao wouldn’t necessarily do as they asked. So he made no demands at all, only asking him to honor a past agreement.

Chen Nang was different from this bunch of heinous criminals. He could hardly even be called guilty; he’d just been unlucky.

Yang Xiao had never intended to make things hard for him to begin with. Besides, he had already promised Chief Zhou that he would bring Chen Nang over to meet him when the time came, so naturally he wouldn’t go back on his word.

But all of this was on the premise that Chen Nang behaved and also abided by that agreement. The guy had a habit of grabbing credit.

On the very first day they met, Yang Xiao had clearly warned him: once he came under Yang Xiao, all credit could only belong to Yang Xiao.

Though he did feel a bit chilled by this bunch of ungrateful bastards, Yang Xiao also knew he couldn’t just keep suppressing and threatening them. These people were desperadoes to begin with. If he pushed them too far, they might turn on him at a critical moment, or blow themselves up along with him. That would be a loss.

After thinking it over briefly, Yang Xiao decided to meet some of their reasonable demands—for example, asking for a few dolls, or changing to a more comfortable mattress. Yang Xiao felt this was pretty good, very humane.

Women were out of the question, but buying them a few "special" dolls was doable—the foldable inflatable kind.

All in all, for people like them, Yang Xiao felt he had already gone above and beyond.

A few days later, while Yang Xiao was in his office reading documents, he suddenly received word that the intelligence department of the Provincial Bureau had gotten a tip: people from the Withered Bone Pavilion had appeared.

Yang Xiao rushed to Wu Qingcang’s office in a hurry and asked for details, "Captain Witch, is the intel solid?"

"Solid. Our informant is very reliable. The people who showed up this time are of no low Level. It’s the Second Guardian of the Withered Bone Pavilion, goes by the name Blood Sun True Man." Wu Qingcang handed over the file he had been reading.

Taking the file, Yang Xiao carefully examined it. This Blood Sun True Man was quite well-known and was said to possess strength surpassing the Peak of Ghost Level.

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