Living In Another World With A Farm Chapter 8487: Establishing might (1)

Amid the vast blood sea, Zhao Hai positioned himself at the center. The eerie Wind Ghost flag stood firmly planted right next to him on the ground. Innumerable ghost soldiers assembled into a defensive shield, safeguarding their group. No trace of blood mist lingered in this spot. Zhao Hai turned his gaze toward the Ghostwind bandits, who remained buzzing with excitement. He regarded them with a smile before speaking in a grave tone, “It looks like all of you are thrilled. Have you overlooked my previous instructions?”

Upon catching Zhao Hai's remark, the faces of the Ghostwind bandits grew stern. They promptly replied, “We wouldn’t dare. Rest assured, boss. We haven’t forgotten!” Once they finished, several leaders rose to their feet and ordered their subordinates to unload every item they had carried off from Ghost Island.

This had been Zhao Hai's directive from earlier. Once they conquered Ghost Island, they were free to grab whatever lay there. Yet that didn't make the looted goods their personal property. All seized items needed to be surrendered, then allocated based on each person's level of contribution.

With all the goods laid out, Zhao Hai surveyed the group and declared solemnly, “Have you all surrendered every last bit? This is your final warning. If something remains hidden, I won’t hold it against you now. But if it stays concealed, that’s on you.”

His statement caused their expressions to shift. After sharing uneasy looks, a handful stepped forward, pulling extra objects from their space equipment and placing them down. They then offered a respectful bow to Zhao Hai and retreated to their spots with caution. Rather than scold them, Zhao Hai simply gave an approving nod.

Even so, once those individuals revealed their hidden items, no others followed suit. Though Zhao Hai kept smiling, his eyes pierced like blades as he swept his view across the assembly and intoned deeply, “I’ve made it clear before: every bit of effort from each of you gets recorded on the Coldwind Ghost Flag. Nothing escapes my notice as its master. That’s why I’ll hand out rewards matching your true input. Effort counts separately from your cultivation stage. If you’re at Refinement Realm but only gave thirty percent, while someone at Spell Essence Realm poured in full force, the full-effort one gets more. Partial contributors receive less. That’s how I divide things up. But clearly, some of you doubt my word. Or perhaps you believe I lack the guts to strike?”

By now, Zhao Hai's tone had iced over completely. He understood full well how these folks differed from the Bloodsucker Squad members. The squad consisted of Bloody Massacre Sect disciples, bound by sect regulations. They might resist in spots, but firm handling of a few would bring the rest in line. Back then, Zhao Hai embodied the sect's authority. Defying him meant defying the sect—a grave offense. Plus, sect oversight had always kept them in check, demanding constant supervision.

In contrast, these were lone wanderers, rogue cultivators who thrived on slaying foes and snatching their riches. Truth be told, scarce were the cultivators who sustained their path through herb gathering or ore digging without bloodshed and theft. Their hands dripped with guilt. If any stayed spotless, they’d never have joined Zhao Hai’s Ghostwind bandits. Dealing with such types required iron resolve. Rules set demanded strict enforcement. Disobeyers faced one fate: death. No room for softness, lest they lose all fear of you. Without fear, commanding them grew impossible.

For these reasons, Zhao Hai ruled them with unyielding severity. Defiers met swift ends at his hand. He’d already culled many, earning their current compliance. Yet unfair spoils division would undermine every other rule he’d imposed. Thus, Zhao Hai held nothing back.

Zhao Hai’s icy words sent shivers through the Ghostwind bandits’ cores. Most hadn’t stashed anything, yet dread gripped them all. The guilty ones sweated buckets, regret gnawing at them. But the deed was done—confession came too late. A sliver of hope kept them silent; none owned up to concealment.

Zhao Hai eyed them coolly and stated firmly, “Very well, here’s your absolute last shot. Surrender what you’ve kept back, and I’ll let it slide without penalty. But I’ll count to ten. Fail to come clean by then, and I won’t hold back. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! Time’s up—your choice seals it.” With that, he gripped the Coldwind Ghost Flag’s staff. Dark tendrils shot forth, slithering like venomous serpents toward the throng. Panic flared, but relief followed as the lines bypassed most, coiling only around select figures to bind them tight.

Next, Zhao Hai flicked his wrist, and the dark bindings hauled the captives forward. He fixed his piercing stare on those ensnared and rumbled lowly, “I offered you mercy, yet you refused to confess. Remember, each hidden scrap means one less for the rest. You’re not just hoarding for yourselves—you’re shorting everyone, me included. Any last words?”

“We’re blameless, boss. Nothing’s hidden. Truly, we swear it,” one captive shouted, echoed swiftly by the others. This left the onlookers baffled, unsure if the bound truly held back or not. If innocent, Zhao Hai meant to make examples of them.

Such thoughts prompted furtive glances at Zhao Hai. He ignored them, turning a cold laugh on the prisoners. “You figure I’m clueless? That stashing in your space gear hides it from me? Or that minor trinkets won’t draw my wrath? I warned you upon joining: follow my lead without question. Defy me, and face the consequences. Looks like my rules fell on deaf ears. Fine then—today, you’ll taste my justice.”

Finishing, Zhao Hai gestured, summoning a heap of goods onto the ground. Weapons, elixirs in vials, and spirit stones gleamed among them—a decent haul, though origins from Ghost Island stayed unclear. What stunned the crowd more: if these truly came from the captives, how had Zhao Hai extracted them? Every cultivator’s space device bore a personal seal, unbreakable save by death. Only the owner could access it otherwise.

Yet Zhao Hai had plucked items from their sealed spaces, leaving all agape. Initial skepticism faded as the captives’ terror confirmed the source: straight from their own gear.

A scoff escaped Zhao Hai at their stunned looks. Another wave sorted the pile into two stacks. He jabbed at one and growled, “You stashed these on purpose. To dodge my eye, you swapped elixir containers. Unmarked stones? Easy to pocket. And you played it smart—tiny hauls each, betting I’d overlook or forgive it, eh?”

Ashen-faced, they realized every scheme had unfolded under Zhao Hai’s gaze. He’d pierced their every trick. Terror surged, knowing his ruthless ways. Desperation kicked in; they begged for reprieve.

Zhao Hai regarded them steadily and proclaimed deeply, “The Ghostwind bandits may be outlaws, but I spare no one who defies me. I’ve stated it plain: one voice rules us all—mine. My word is law. Disobey, and death follows. Consider it an honor; you’ll battle beside your comrades in spirit form.” He swept his hand, and the dark lines yanked the group straight into the Coldwind Ghost Flag. As they vanished within, faint cries echoed for all to hear.

Watching the condemned merge into the ominous Wind Ghost Flag, cold sweat beaded on every brow. Eyes fell to the meager ground pile, a rueful nod to dodged greed. Such paltry gains hardly justified the peril. Deeper still grew their dread of Zhao Hai, who’d freshly proven his merciless edge.

With the guilty dispatched, Zhao Hai faced the remainder and intoned gravely, “Heed this: future spoils belong to us collectively. Hiding any cheats us all—me most of all. I won’t tolerate it. Distribution’s set by merit. What you receive matches your due. If shortchanged, reflect on your lapses. Stop scheming for personal keeps—got it?”

“Yes, boss, we get it!”