Teacher by day, Farmer by passion-Chapter 233: Capital Crisis [1] (NEW!)

The wind howled softly across the mountain ridge, tugging at the crimson-stained robes of the boy who stood atop the hill.

Xiao Ling, or rather, the soul within that body—Yu Zhong—took a lazy bite of the spirit apple in his hand, its vibrant flesh crunching softly between his teeth.

Juice ran down his fingers, gleaming ruby under the dying sun.

Before him, the capital city stretched out like a slumbering beast, unaware that its dreams were about to catch fire.

Reports had flooded in.

The Xiao family was under siege.

The matriarch, Xiao Ziyun, was now the most wanted fugitive in the kingdom.

The royal guard had orders to kill on sight.

And the once-mighty Xiao clan was to be placed under total lockdown.

Yu Zhong chuckled softly, the sound sharp as a blade sheathing itself.

"Hmph," he muttered, licking the juice from his fingers, "this body… really is better than that useless Xiao Wuzi. Smooth joints, sharp senses, and just the right amount of arrogance in the blood. A good vessel."

He stepped forward.

The grass beneath his feet squelched with blood.

Over thirty corpses littered the hill — some merchants, some bandits, all drained to husks.

The bodies were strewn like discarded puppets, each dressed in patchwork leather and metal—bandits, or something meant to resemble them.

Yu Zhong glanced at the fallen crates, among the crushed goods were bright, glowing fruit: Spirit Apples, their aura dimmed by the slaughter.

"Smuggling Spirit Apples," he mused aloud. "And then you just so happened to be ambushed by 'bandits'?"

His tone was bored. Amused. Like a man watching a puppet show for the hundredth time.

"There's no poetry in that," he said with a sigh, as if offended by the lack of flair in the massacre.

He strolled toward the crates, leisurely, stepping over limbs and pools of blood that had already begun to soak into the earth.

The corpses, every last one, were withered—their skin sunken, their bones poking through like dried husks.

Not a drop of vitality remained.

Yu Zhong had made sure of that.

Every last soul had been drained.

He popped the last bite of apple into his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the tartness, before tossing the core over his shoulder.

A low hum of satisfaction vibrated from his chest.

"…Yes," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the horizon where the capital shimmered in the haze.

"More of this. More chaos. More blood."

His fingers flexed, veins glowing faintly with stolen energy.

"Start the war already," he whispered with a grin that was too wide, too hungry.

His voice dropped, giddy with anticipation.

"I'm bored."

The breeze picked up, rustling through the blood-soaked grass, as if the world itself shivered in response.

Just then, a shadow swept across the blood-soaked hill—a bat, its wings cutting through the dusky sky with eerie silence.

Yu Zhong reached into a crate, plucked another Spirit Apple, and took a slow, deliberate bite.

The crisp sound echoed unnaturally loud in the quiet.

The bat spiraled downward, landing before him with grace, and in an instant, its form twisted—wings folding, bones shifting—until a humanoid figure knelt in the blood-drenched grass.

"Master," the figure intoned, head bowed low.

Yu Zhong barely glanced at him, flicking his fingers in a dismissive wave.

"Is the task done?" freeweɓnovel.cѳm

The kneeling man nodded, sharp and precise.

"Yes. They're convinced. The plan is in motion."

Yu Zhong exhaled through his nose, a crooked grin blooming on his face as he tossed the half-eaten Spirit Apple over his shoulder.

It hit the ground with a soft thud, rolling to rest beside a corpse.

"Good," he said, voice low, breathy with thrill. "It's abou time."

He turned his gaze toward the distant city, eyes glowing faintly with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

"I want to paint the world red," he whispered, more to himself than anyone. "This kingdom… the sea… and everything beyond it."

His smile widened.

Then he turned back to the figure still kneeling before him.

"Go. Prepare the men."

He stepped forward, placing a hand briefly on the man's shoulder, just enough to make the servant shiver.

"I'll be bringing back a variable," Yu Zhong murmured. "One that should work magic for us later."

The man bowed once more before his body began to ripple, bones compressing with a sickening crack as leathery wings unfolded from his back.

In a blur of shadow and wind, he shifted back into a bat and soared into the crimson sky, vanishing toward the horizon.

Yu Zhong remained still for a moment, the wind tousling his robes as he chewed thoughtfully on nothing.

Then—footsteps. Human. Too heavy for bandits. Too orderly for travelers.

"Ah," he murmured, amused. "The hounds have arrived."

Without hurry, Yu Zhong turned and vanished into the nearby woods, his silhouette swallowed by the trees just as the royal guards crested the hill.

The sight that greeted them made several halt in their tracks.

Corpses. Dozens of them.

Some were clearly bandits, others merchants, drivers of the cart that had been torn open and left to rot.

The horses lay collapsed beside the wagons, their bodies eerily withered, shriveled like old fruit under the sun.

"What the hell happened here?" one guard muttered, kneeling beside a body.

"No wounds… No blood…" another whispered, reaching out and pulling back his hand quickly. "They're… drained."

"Could it be—?" one of the younger guards hesitated, voice tight with fear.

"The Matriarch," an older one finished grimly, rising slowly to his feet.

"Xiao Ziyun. Only she could've done something like this."

The others exchanged tense nods, unease settling in like fog.

From a nearby ridge, Yu Zhong leaned against a tree, watching them with lazy delight. The corner of his mouth curled into a satisfied smirk.

"They're already pointing fingers…" he whispered to himself, amused.

He turned and walked away, hands clasped behind his back, humming softly.

"This is going far smoother than I ever dreamed."

His steps were light, his mood lighter still.

After all, war wasn't just about fire and blades.

Sometimes, all it took was the right whisper in the dark—

and a world already eager to believe the worst.