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

Zhao Hai positioned himself at the center of the blood sea. Nearby, the eerie Wind Ghost flag stood planted in the earth. Innumerable ghost soldiers created a protective wall around them. No blood mist lingered in this zone. He gazed at the Ghostwind bandits, who remained buzzing with thrill. A smile crossed Zhao Hai's face as he addressed them gravely, “It looks like you're all thrilled. Have you overlooked my earlier words?”

The Ghostwind bandits' faces grew solemn upon Zhao Hai's remark. They quickly responded, “We wouldn't dare. Rest assured, boss. We haven't forgotten!” Following that, several leaders rose and instructed their teams to unload all the goods taken from the ghost island.

This followed Zhao Hai's prior directive. Once they conquered the ghost island, they were free to grab whatever was there. Yet, that didn't make the loot theirs outright. Everything seized needed to be surrendered for fair allocation based on individual contributions.

Once all items lay exposed, Zhao Hai surveyed the group and spoke deeply, “Have you all revealed everything? This is your final opportunity. If you've held back, I won't hold it against you now. But if you refuse, then so be it.”

His words prompted uneasy shifts among them. After mutual looks, a few stepped forward, pulling hidden objects from their space-teleportation gear and placing them down. They then bowed to Zhao Hai and retreated warily to their spots. Zhao Hai offered no rebuke; he simply nodded approvingly.

Still, no others followed suit after those disclosures. Though Zhao Hai's smile persisted, his eyes cut like blades across the assembly as he intoned deeply, “I've made it clear: your efforts are all recorded on the cold wind Ghost flag. Nothing escapes my notice as its master. Rewards will match your input precisely. Effort counts, not your cultivation rank. A refinement realm fighter giving just 30% gets less than a spell essence realm one pouring in full force. That's my rule for sharing. Yet, it appears some doubt my word. Or perhaps you believe I lack the resolve to strike?”

By now, Zhao Hai's tone had iced over entirely. He understood his approach to these bandits differed sharply from the bloodsucker team. Those were Bloody Massacre Sect disciples, bound by sect laws. Even if rebellious at times, firm handling of a few ensured compliance from the rest, since Zhao Hai embodied the sect's authority. Defiance equaled sect betrayal—a grave offense. Plus, sect oversight kept them in line routinely.

In contrast, these were lone rogue cultivators, thriving on plunder and murder. Truth be told, few cultivators sustained themselves solely through foraging or mining without bloodshed and theft. Their hands bore the stains of violence. If truly pure, they wouldn't have joined Zhao Hai's Ghostwind bandits. Dealing with such folk demanded iron resolve. Rules set must be enforced without fail. Disobeyers faced one fate: death. Mercy would breed contempt, eroding command.

Thus, Zhao Hai enforced strict discipline. Defiers met swift ends—he'd culled many already, securing their current obedience. But unfair spoils division would undermine all other edicts. Hence, Zhao Hai intended no leniency.

Zhao Hai's icy words sent shivers through the Ghostwind bandits. Most hadn't concealed a thing, yet fear gripped them all. The guilty ones sweated heavily, filled with regret. Too late for confessions now, and faint hopes lingered, so none owned up.

Zhao Hai eyed them steadily and declared gravely, “Very well, one final mercy. Surrender your secrets now, and I'll overlook it. But I'll count to ten. Fail by then, and expect no quarter from me. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! Time's up—your choice seals it.” With that, he gripped the cold wind Ghost flag's staff. Black tendrils lashed out like coiling serpents toward the throng. Panic flared, but the lines bypassed most, ensnaring select individuals and binding them tight.

Zhao Hai then gestured, and the tendrils hauled the captives forward. He fixed on the bound ones and rumbled, “I offered chances, yet you stayed silent. Know this: each hidden item deprives the rest of us. Your greed harms everyone, me included. Any defense left?”

“I'm innocent, boss. We hid nothing. Truly, nothing at all.” One shouted, echoed by the others. This sowed doubt among the onlookers, unsure if the captives were clean. If so, Zhao Hai meant to make examples of them.

Such notions prompted covert glances at Zhao Hai. Unfazed, he regarded the group with a chill sneer. “You assume I'm clueless? That stashing in your space-teleportation gear fools me? Or that minor hides warrant no pursuit? I warned you upon joining: obey me fully, or face consequences. Clearly, my words fell on deaf ears. Fine then—witness my justice today.”

Zhao Hai flicked his wrist, summoning a heap of goods to the ground: artifacts, pills, crystals aplenty. Abundant, yet origins from the ghost island stayed unclear. More startling: if these truly were the captives', how had Zhao Hai extracted them? Each cultivator's space-teleportation device bore unique seals, unbreakable save by death. Only then could contents be accessed.

Zhao Hai's feat left them reeling. Initial skepticism faded as the captives' terror confirmed the loot's source—their own gear.

A snort escaped Zhao Hai at their stunned looks. Another wave sorted the pile into two stacks. He indicated one gravely, “These you concealed. To dodge detection, you swapped pill vials. Unmarked crystals simply vanished into storage. Cautious, weren't you? Each skimped on volume, betting I'd miss it—or spare you if caught, eh?”

Ashen-faced, they realized Zhao Hai had monitored every act. Exposure bred terror; they knew his ruthlessness and scrambled for pleas.

Zhao Hai met their eyes and stated firmly, “The Ghostwind bandits may be outlaws, but disloyalty meets no mercy from me. One voice rules here—mine alone. My word is law. Defiers die. Consider it an honor: you'll aid your brothers from beyond in battle.” He gestured sharply. The black lines yanked the offenders into the cold wind Ghost flag. As they vanished, faint screams echoed for all to hear.

Witnessing the sinister Wind Ghost flag claim them, cold sweat beaded on everyone. Gazing at the meager ground loot, they lamented the folly of greed for trifles. Fear of Zhao Hai deepened; he'd reaffirmed his merciless edge.

With the matter settled, Zhao Hai faced the remainder and intoned, “Heed this: all future gains belong to us collectively. Hiders betray everyone, me foremost. I'll spare none. Distribution's set—accept your share. If shortchanged, reflect on your lapses. Stop scheming for personal gain, got it?”

“Yes, boss, we understand!”