Ch 50: The Malevolent Monster Just Wants To Farm

Earlier, when Jiang Lin revealed himself, Huaiyin and Zong Yu hadn’t shown themselves yet. The four people present hadn’t noticed their presence at all. Now, seeing two figures suddenly appear and sensing their auras, they realized the immense and unfathomable demon power within them. How could this seemingly insignificant vengeful spirit be acquainted with such powerful demons?

The old Daoist sensed something was amiss and changed his tone, addressing Zong Yu and Huaiyin with respect: “You two are powerful demons, so why aid this vengeful spirit? My master, Prince Xian, is the son of the emperor. If you are willing to assist him, he would gladly welcome you as esteemed guests of the household. Whatever you desire, the prince will spare no effort in fulfilling your wishes.”

Zong Yu replied, “There’s no need for the entire royal court’s resources. What I want, your master can certainly provide.”

The old Daoist was pleased and asked, “What is it that you seek?”

Zong Yu’s expression turned cold. “Naturally, it’s your master’s life!”

Realizing he’d been tricked, the old Daoist’s already flushed face turned even redder with anger. “Shameless demons! Do you think you can dominate the heavens? Daring to trespass in the prince’s residence means this is your day of reckoning!”

A golden, gleaming sword suddenly appeared in the Daoist’s hand, which he then slashed towards Zong Yu.

Zong Yu dodged the sword and called out to Jiang Lin, “You’re not as strong as you used to be. Leave the fighting to us—go after that dog prince!”

Huaiyin agreed, thinking it was sound advice. Ever since arriving in this world, the urgency of revenge had left Jiang Lin with little time to properly cultivate. It was better not to take unnecessary risks.

Jiang Lin didn’t have a hero complex. With others taking the lead, he was happy to let them win the battle for him. Feeling rather pleased, he waved to the two of them. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

With that, he followed the thread of karma leading him directly to his target.

It wasn’t in the main courtyard of the prince’s residence, nor in any room. Jiang Lin found the person he sought in a hidden chamber underground.

He didn’t bother with any theatrics and simply revealed himself directly in front of the man.

The man in the wheelchair initially showed a fleeting moment of fear upon seeing Jiang Lin but soon turned his gaze into one of intense interest. His eyes burned as he looked at Jiang Lin. “That face of yours… I remember it.”

How could he not remember? It was only a few months ago. The fresh, bloody human skin was placed on a jade tray and presented before him. He even remembered making some comments, although he had since forgotten what they were—likely expressing his satisfaction.

Jiang Lin observed the man before him. He was confined to a wheelchair, unable to walk. The left side of his face bore hideous scars, as if burned by fire. Yet, his gaze was calm and serene, and his demeanor exuded “kindness.”

Although it felt odd to describe someone’s aura as “kind,” that was indeed the impression Jiang Lin had. This Prince Xian was the sort of person who, at first glance, would seem like a good-hearted individual.

If Jiang Lin couldn’t see the deep burden of bloodshed and sin weighing on him, he might easily have taken a liking to this man.

Prince Xian had already regained his composure and smiled as he spoke to Jiang Lin. “Would you like to see my masterpiece?”

Without waiting for Jiang Lin’s response, he clapped his hands.

The wall at the back of the secret chamber suddenly moved, revealing doors on either side that opened. Elegantly dressed beauties emerged from both sides, walking towards Prince Xian and surrounding him, kneeling at his feet.

On the left were men, and on the right were women.

What they all had in common was that they possessed faces as beautiful as flowers in spring and autumn.

Jiang Lin cursed his sharp eyesight as he immediately recognized several familiar faces—his own, as well as Jiang Jin’s.

Their faces had been taken and were now worn by these living people!

Prince Xian smiled at him, asking, “Isn’t it a delightful sight?”

Jiang Lin replied in a low voice, “You’re a madman. With your status, you could easily gather the most beautiful people from across the land. Why would you go to the extent of taking someone’s skin?”

Taking a person’s skin and placing it on someone else seemed not only unnecessary but also incredibly cruel.

This was why Jiang Lin called Prince Xian a madman—because a madman acts without logic.

Prince Xian didn’t mind the critique; instead, he asked another question. “I seem to recall… You were sent by Minister Chen, weren’t you? He’s dead—did you kill him?”

Jiang Lin glanced at him and said, “He deserved to die. You won’t have to wait long to join him.”

Prince Xian merely gazed intensely at Jiang Lin. “I knew when I received news of Li Fu’s death that someone—or perhaps a ghost—would come for revenge.”

He stared at Jiang Lin’s face with an almost obsessive gaze. “So you’ve become a ghost. After becoming a ghost, your face was restored, and you’ve gained powerful abilities, haven’t you?”

His demeanor and words betrayed a deep-seated pathology.

A thought occurred to Jiang Lin, one so absurd that he almost couldn’t believe it. “You can’t possibly be thinking…”

“I want to become a ghost. Do you have a way to help me?” Prince Xian’s eyes widened with longing.

Jiang Lin was speechless.

Prince Xian continued, “My father, the Emperor, loves me dearly—he gives me whatever I want. If you’re willing to help me, we can put our past grievances behind us, and I can give you anything you desire!”

“Just help me! Make it so I can become a ghost like you, with my mind intact!”

Jiang Lin suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of futility. There was no reasoning with a madman.

Seeing Jiang Lin’s calm expression, Prince Xian suddenly seemed to understand. “You don’t understand me—you think I’m mad? No, you just don’t know me well enough. Would you like to hear a story? Once you hear it, you’ll understand me.”

Jiang Lin stepped forward, placing his hand on Prince Xian’s head.

Prince Xian’s gaze became vacant.

Jiang Lin extracted his memories. “I don’t want to hear your story.”

Stories change depending on the person telling them, so Jiang Lin preferred to look at the most direct evidence and make his own judgment.

Prince Xian’s real name was Li Chengzhou.

As a child, before becoming a prince, he was a favored and carefree young prince.

At the age of three, his mother gave birth to a sister, who was as adorable as a jade doll—Li Chengzhou adored her.

When he was seven, his mother’s palace caught fire, and his sister was trapped inside.

The fire was so intense that no one dared to enter, not even his mother, who believed that her daughter couldn’t be saved.

Little Li Chengzhou, taking advantage of the moment when no one was paying attention, ran into the flames, calling out for his sister. He stumbled out, holding his wailing sister, but as he emerged, he tripped, and his sister flew out of his arms. The flames instantly engulfed her.

The palace servants managed to catch the flying princess, but when they turned back to help the young prince, it was too late.

He survived the fire, but his leg was crushed by a fallen beam and burned so badly that it had to be amputated. The entire left side of his face was also severely burned, leaving it terrifyingly scarred.

After six months of treatment by the imperial physicians, he was finally out of danger. But when the little princess was brought by their mother to see her brother, she burst into tears at the sight of him.

He even caught the fear and horror in his mother’s eyes that she couldn’t conceal quickly enough.

From that day, his world changed.

At first, his father, the Emperor, praised him for his kindness and bravery.

But as time passed, and his leg was rendered useless, the scars on his face healing into something even more horrifying, the Emperor no longer wanted to see him.

No one wanted to see a child who looked like a living nightmare.

The Emperor’s preferences became everyone’s preferences.

The number of people who praised the third prince’s kindness dwindled, while the number who mocked the “cripple” and “ugly” prince increased.

His mother avoided him, and the sister he had risked his life to save hadn’t seen him in years.

The palace servants began to neglect him, giving him spoiled food. His living conditions were difficult, and the eunuch responsible for his care only remembered to attend to him once a day.

At first, he would cry in frustration, but eventually, he gave up, behaving like an animal, relieving himself on the bed. His small palace reeked with an indescribable stench.

At that time, he was still naive. How could his mother, the mistress of a palace, be unaware of how her own son was being treated?

One day, longing for his mother, he fell from his bed, crawling to her palace, hoping to tell her how the servants were tormenting him, how much pain he was in, and how miserable he felt.

But he overheard his mother, sighing as she spoke to her trusted maid:

“Chengzhou… I know it’s wrong to say this. But when I see his face, I’m frightened. Besides, living like this, he’s in pain, and he’s a burden to both me and Jiayu. The Emperor doesn’t visit me often; I know it’s because he feels uneasy when he thinks of Chengzhou.”

“If he were to pass away quietly one day, I would be relieved.”

Li Chengzhou was stunned.

He was not yet ten years old, hearing his own mother express such clear disdain for him.

That was the last time he cried, curling up in a small, dark corner, gasping for breath like a dog.

Later, when he accidentally overheard his sister, Princess Jiayu, disdainfully saying, “Don’t say that cripple is my brother,” he was already calm.

He even smiled a little.

He learned to endure, to pretend to be good, to scheme, using a carefully crafted mask to cover the terrifying half of his face.

Finally, he managed to awaken a sliver of compassion in the Emperor.

Perhaps the Emperor had grown softer with age, or perhaps he had become wary of his other sons as they grew older.

This gentle, kind, and crippled prince, who posed no threat, became the Emperor’s most beloved son.

He was bestowed the title of Prince Xian and given the most luxurious mansion.

The mother who once ignored him now affectionately called him “Zhou’er,” and the sister who mocked him for being crippled now warmly pushed his wheelchair, sweetly calling him “brother.”

It was as if the past had never happened.

He also pretended the past didn’t exist, treating them with gentle kindness, playing the role of a benevolent saint.

When he was sixteen, on his father’s birthday, an assassin appeared, and his mother bravely took a sword meant for the Emperor, losing her life in the process.

The Emperor, deeply moved, posthumously honored her as an empress and transferred his feelings of guilt and gratitude onto his living son, increasing his favor even more.

At nineteen, a rebellion by a vassal king and threats from foreign enemies brought internal and external turmoil.

The Emperor chose to stabilize internal affairs first, so the young Princess Jiayu, not yet sixteen, was sent as a peace envoy to a foreign country, where she died within a year.

Having been crippled in childhood and then losing both his mother and sister, the Emperor felt immensely guilty toward this son and granted him almost anything he wanted.s

But the highly favored Prince Xian never acted arrogant or spoiled, treating everyone with kindness and annually distributing porridge to help the poor. Both the court and the public praised him.

Everyone regretted that if it weren’t for his disability, Prince Xian would have been the most suitable successor to the throne.

No one knew what this “benevolent” prince was doing in secret.

He was severely “ill.”

Due to his childhood experiences and the ridicule and torment he endured after his appearance was ruined, he developed an obsessive fixation on physical beauty, harboring intense hatred toward those who were beautiful.

He began by having beautiful people collected, initially just disfiguring them, then torturing them.

Later, he met the old Taoist.

The Taoist suggested that he could transfer the appearance of living people.

Originally, the Taoist intended to help Prince Xian restore his own appearance, but the prince had a more “interesting” idea.

That was to peel the faces off beautiful people while they were still alive and graft them onto the most ugly and filthy beggars. Then, he would have those lowliest of people, wearing the most beautiful faces, crawl at his feet like dogs, serving him.

This was the joy of a madman.

Prince Xian’s gaze slowly returned to clarity. He realized what Jiang Lin had done to him and looked at him with fervent eyes. “So many people, yet only you turned into a vengeful ghost to seek revenge on me. You must know how to become a ghost, right?”

He had grown tired of his identity as Prince Xian and even wanted to die and become an immortal ghost.

Jiang Lin said, “I can make you a ghost; all I have to do is kill you.”

Prince Xian smiled and spread his hands. “Go ahead, kill me.”

Jiang Lin: “…”

He asked, puzzled, “Do you think that if you turn into a ghost, you’ll be as powerful as I am?”

Prince Xian, annoyed, opened his eyes wide. “Ridiculous! I’m of royal blood! Born superior, and even in death, I will naturally be above others.”

Jiang Lin concluded that this man was indeed deeply insane.

Then he killed him with a single stroke.