The Corruption Dragon God: Lust System Chapter 611 - Calculating Rewards

"Ah... it's finally over." Zhentian grunted as a satisfied grin spread over his face.

The outer disciples received his swift command to charge into the fortress and liberate the hostages trapped within its dungeons.

More than two thousand individuals filled the group, from affluent merchants to everyday folks yearning for home.

Numerous women bore marks of brutality, their eyes hollow and empty.

Those vile swine disregarded age entirely, transforming existence into a living nightmare for their victims.

Upon witnessing this, Qingyi felt deep relief that he hadn't allowed those final scoundrels to flee.

Escape was not their right.

Mercy was beyond them.

A thief might steal and yet cling to life's worth—maybe to rescue someone, or to fend off hunger.

Yet once that thief grasps a blade, once gold outweighs any human soul, mercy vanishes, for his very humanity has forsaken him.

Ultimately, one might slay to conquer, strike to protect oneself, hunt to survive, or avenge wrongs.

But slaying for riches or mere pleasure strips away all manhood.

No.

These were mere beasts, honorless as pigs awaiting the butcher's knife.

How could Qingyi possibly spare them pity?

Not even viewing himself as a devout orthodox cultivator treading the righteous path, he still held reverence for blameless lives.

Silently, Qingyi settled into a cross-legged position, cultivating in serene focus.

Disciples continued rounding up the victims of those monsters, as Zhentian reached out to the sect for transport ships to carry them back and restore them to their homes.

Merchants and nobles of means would need family funds for passage, while the destitute rode without charge.

Thus, the Cosmic Dawn Sect avoided any monetary drain, all while saving countless civilians.

The approach functioned well, imperfections notwithstanding.

As transport ships docked and liberated hostages started embarking, Zhentian drew near Qingyi, his noble features beaming with a wide smile.

With the mission complete, contributions and rewards now demanded assessment for every participant.

Mission's standard payout stood at five hundred celestial spirit crystals, boosted by two hundred more for hostage recovery and another two hundred for eliminating the traitorous disciple.

Zhentian alone claimed that final bonus, having soloed the pirate chieftain and sect betrayer.

After subtracting it, the leftover seven hundred celestial spirit crystals split evenly among disciples—seven apiece.

Remainder covered ship fuel for Zhentian's vessel, a minor cost, plus payouts to families of the three fallen disciples.

Truth be told, compensation proved generous.

For a task spanning less than a day, they pocketed nearly seven months' worth of outer disciple base pay—not forgetting sect contribution points or the monthly salary bump from those points.

After all, one celestial spirit crystal barely sustained a mortal within the sect. True cultivation demanded far greater sums.

It wasn't vast riches for cultivators, yet remained solidly fair.

And that wasn't all.

Beyond the seven hundred crystals lay more.

As Zhentian tallied shares, he reached the crux: individual kill bonuses.

Personal tallies, drawn from reports, determined these.

Precision proved impossible, yet self-counts and peer observations allowed reasonable averages.

Zhentian's own four hundred kills secured him forty celestial spirit crystals.

He spared it no second glance.

His clan brimmed with vaults overflowing tens of millions of celestial spirit crystals, generating fortunes every instant—making a thousand mere specks against a day's haul.

Sect contribution points truly mattered to him.

Celestial spirit crystals served the destitute, unaided sorts like Qingyi.

'Thinking on it...' Zhentian sighed, struck with awe.

A lone warrior felled over three thousand foes.

Through blinding speed, devastating lightning Qi, and mastery of countless spectral swords, Qingyi alone claimed over thirty percent of the pirate horde. The clash endured twenty minutes, averaging two-plus kills per second, crowned by fifteen hundred in his climactic strike on the ten escaping vessels.

Even for Zhentian's caliber, it dazzled. Qingyi focused on the frailest, true, but rules granted one crystal per ten pirates slain, strength irrelevant.

Final tally fixed Qingyi's haul at 322 celestial spirit crystals.

Sufficient for a mortal's humble lifetime, or a decade of opulence.

Paltry by cultivator measure, yet it sparked waves of jealousy from those encircling Qingyi.

"Let's head back. I'll turn in the mission and distribute the rewards." Zhentian grinned, clapping Qingyi's shoulder.

Duty bound him to recount all events, bonuses secured or squandered.

Falsifying for extra pay tempted some, yet peril loomed.

Disciples often lied, faced exposure, and suffered death or ruin.

Zhentian, noble soul whose fortune dwarfed the mission pavilion's, scorned such deceit—merely claiming and sharing the rightful spoils among his comrades.