A Farmer's Journey To Immortality

Chapter 616: The Message P2

The recording continued.

Aksai turned toward his captives.

“You wanted to draw me out by attacking Zinnia’s martial arts school, right?” Aksai said loudly, as if addressing someone unseen.

“You went through so much trouble to find me. You know, I would’ve stayed quiet just long enough to finish my experiments and leave this place in haste. I was running out of time, you see. But you forced my hand.”

He paused, looking down at one of the fallen captives, his tone turning colder. “You thought I was hiding because I was afraid of you. Kekeke.”

Reymon could feel a strong pulse of Spirit Sense inside the illusion — it was so detailed that it almost felt real. Aksai’s presence dominated the entire field like a storm waiting to break.

Aksai looked straight ahead again and spoke with a calm, steady voice. “You guessed it right when you attacked Zinnia to draw me out. But tell me, Reymon… do you think you’re the only one who can play this game of drawing someone out through violent means?”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Aksai smirked. He lifted one hand. The air around him began to twist violently as a storm of Wind Blades formed — dozens of sharp, translucent crescents of air whirling around him.

With one simple wave, he unleashed them.

Reymon watched in silent fury as the spinning blades tore through all the captives except for the Aurous artists. In a blink, arms and legs were severed, blood spraying across the dirt. None of them were even allowed to scream — each time a mouth opened, another invisible force silenced it.

All the Argent artists were targeted. Their limbs scattered across the ground like pieces of broken dolls.

Reymon’s Spirit Sense trembled with anger. His face twisted, but he forced himself not to look away.

At the end of the limb-chopping massacre, even Wen Wei and Lin Lan were not spared. Both were unconscious, their limbs cut off cleanly.

One more man still had his body intact — Jin. He lay unconscious on the ground, bound in vines, his head slumped to one side.

Reymon understood then. Aksai had spared Jin for a reason. At that time, he had already decided to turn him into his messenger.

Aksai looked at the captives for a long moment before raising his hand and snapping his fingers.

Snap!

The sound echoed through the silent night like a spark of thunder.

In the next instant, the vines that had been holding his captives shuddered to life. They slithered and twisted, moving as if guided by a will of their own. The bodies of the bound martial artists were lifted and dragged in different directions, with Aksai standing still at the center of it all.

The ground trembled slightly as hundreds of vines crawled through the dirt and stone, carrying the captives away. Within moments, the entire area became alive with motion. The vines moved the unconscious and crippled fighters across the city ruins, spreading them out like pieces on a board.

Soon, each captive was suspended high above the ground, their limp bodies swaying in the cold air. The vines held them tens of meters up, in places where anyone still remaining in the city could see them.

A grim pattern took shape — a ring of bodies circling the heart of the city. Aksai’s demonic garden.

The Aurous Artists were bound by thicker, red and brown vines that glowed faintly from within. These vines pulsed slowly, like veins, constantly drawing out their life force in steady waves. The limbless Argent Artists were held in simpler binds, their bodies hanging loosely but alive.

To keep them from dying too soon, more vines attached themselves to their bodies. Some to their bellies — glowing faintly as they pushed in a steady flow of nutrients. Others reached lower, extracting waste matter, keeping their bodies alive and functional. Thin tendrils extended from their heads, connecting to their temples and the backs of their necks. These vines pulsed softly, keeping their minds trapped in a subconscious state, away from pain or madness.

Aksai watched the grim display unfold with his hands clasped behind his back. The cool wind brushed past his face as the night deepened around him.

When all the captives were set in place, he spoke, his voice calm and steady — carried easily through the faint wind.

Aksai spoke unhurridly. “I understand it is not easy for you to create Aurous artists. They are your main fighting force. You probably would want to save them, right? As you can see, I have still not severed their limbs. It helps me preserve their value as hostages.”

“As such, starting from tomorrow,” he continued, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, “I will kill one Aurous Artist at the end of each day until you show yourself here.”

His tone carried no rage, no joy — only a quiet certainty.

“Just as you read me through my actions, I can read you through yours,” he continued. “You want to make the Grand Martial Hall the only pillar of the martial world. You want to unite all the forces of Sharang to face the great calamity that strikes every hundred years — the corrupted druids.”

Aksai turned slightly, his gaze sharp and knowing.

“I don’t disagree with your plan,” he said softly. “But tell me, Reymon — how will you unite Sharang if you can’t even save your own underlings from a single man’s challenge? Will you be able to save your face if I start killing your grand elders? Will you be able to unite this world when your reputation takes such a hit?”

He paused, his faint smile returning as he looked at the ring of bodies one last time.

“I’ll leave those questions for you to answer. And for your people’s sake,” he said, snapping his fingers again, “I hope we meet soon.”

In the next instant, Reymon’s Spirit Sense was pulled back into his body.

The bright, blood-soaked world vanished, and he found himself standing once again in his quiet study, the array disk still glowing faintly in his hand.

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