Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 772

Chapter 772: Chapter 772

Watching nearly half of the guests disappear in mere moments, the green-robed old man’s face turned completely dark.

He gritted his teeth viciously and shouted, "If anyone is willing to lend a hand, all future trades with us will be discounted by thirty percent. Although this Spiritual Body is strong, there’s no way it can stand up to the sheer numbers we have here. If we can catch it, everyone will benefit greatly."

Just like that, he began recruiting help right in front of the embroidered shoes.

The embroidered shoes appeared calm and collected, showing no urgency to make a move, nor any intention of stopping the old man.

She fully adopted an attitude of "go ahead and call for help—if I so much as frown, I’ll be your grandson."

The green-robed old man’s conditions seemed to actually sway some of the masked figures.

They buzzed about, saying something, though Yang Fan simply couldn’t decipher what they were discussing.

Trying to understand what a swarm of flies is talking about was inherently a difficult endeavor.

The green-robed old man looked gravely at the masked figures surrounding him and gritted his teeth, "Must you burn bridges before crossing the river? A fifty-percent discount? Are you trying to kill me?"

The buzzing noises rose again.

The green-robed old man cast a wary glance at the composed embroidered shoes in front of him. "She may indeed be tricky to deal with, but demanding fifty percent is too much. I’ll offer forty percent, no more."

The buzzing rose once more.

"Feel free to act at will! I wouldn’t say such things lightly," the green-robed old man declared. "This humble elder has operated this Alley Market for years and has never gone back on his word. Otherwise, that raggedy flag atop my stall would’ve long been used to wipe someone’s ass."

It seemed like the deal had been struck.

Yang Fan displayed a strange expression as he observed the gathering.

The scene was incredibly eerie.

Recruiting helpers in front of your enemy, one bold enough to ask for assistance, and the other bold enough to allow it.

Just then, the aura around the embroidered shoes skyrocketed. A ferocious killing intent burst forth from her vicinity, like a violent tornado, scattering the surrounding mist in every direction.

The mismatched flagpole high above was torn apart by the gusts of malice. After twisting repeatedly, the tattered flag suddenly detached from the pole and was carried by the wind, spiraling down to wrap itself around the green-robed old man’s waist.

The words he had uttered moments earlier turned into reality in the blink of an eye.

Yang Fan nearly burst into laughter but managed to stifle it. He suddenly realized that embroidered shoes were an absolute master at delivering insults—this slap in the face was as brutal as one could get.

The face of the green-robed old man, already greenish, darkened into a purplish-black hue. He glared venomously at the embroidered shoes, violently tugged the flag from his waist, and flung it heavily to the ground.

This commotion caused a few of the masked figures to quietly retreat into the mist.

Compared to before, Yang Fan now had fewer threats to worry about—about a third less.

Feigning calmness, Yang Fan stepped deliberately into the crowd, heading straight for the green-robed old man.

He had come to a realization.

These masked figures and the green-robed old man’s faction weren’t entirely unified.

And if that were the case, it was a point he could exploit.

This meant he could capture the leader first rather than prematurely involving the masked figures.

Perhaps when the real fight began, there might be even fewer masked figures left.

Yang Fan came to a stop diagonally across from the green-robed old man and the embroidered shoes.

"I just need you to lower your price by thirty percent. But this time, all the Souls are mine," Yang Fan said.

He didn’t know what kind of reaction his proposition might provoke.

But that didn’t matter much—his only goal was to divert the old man’s focus and create an opportunity to strike.

"Are you serious?" The green-robed old man asked excitedly. "Alright, I agree!"

He agreed without hesitation.

Yang Fan silently lowered the wooden mace he had lifted earlier.

He had actually agreed!

And he didn’t seem to suspect that there was anything wrong with what Yang Fan was saying?

This was rather odd.

"...Fine!"

Yang Fan’s thoughts raced, quickly revising his earlier plan.

In the crowd, Wang Daqiang, whose hands were bound by straw ropes, spotted Yang Fan’s unexpected arrival and his eyes widened like copper bells.

He almost shouted out in excitement but quickly shut his mouth after realizing the implications.

The green-robed old man nodded at Yang Fan, then turned to the embroidered shoes and said, "Senior, will you still persist in opposing us now?"

The masked figures who chose to stay seemed to have bolstered his courage, adding a bit more forcefulness to his tone.

The embroidered shoes trembled slightly, her posture dripping with mockery.

It was pure disdain—a strong predator sneering at its feeble prey.

The green-robed old man let out a cold snort, "Since the senior insists on being this disrespectful, don’t blame us for what happens next."

"Attack!" he commanded coldly.

Before his words had fully landed, the embroidered shoes abruptly moved.

Her toe tapped lightly on the ground, and she darted upward. The sole of the elegant embroidered shoe struck the green-robed old man squarely across the face.

Smack!

With the crisp sound, the green-robed old man staggered violently.

Taking the opportunity, Yang Fan feigned an attack—aiming for the embroidered shoes—but suddenly twisted his body with agility, unleashed his full Inner Qi, and swung the wooden mace directly toward the old man’s head.

Bang!

Lightning crackled. Half of the green-robed old man’s skull instantly caved in.

He let out a muffled groan and turned a vicious gaze toward Yang Fan, "You..."

Staggering backward a few steps, a black prayer flag slid out from the old man’s sleeve.

He raised his hand to throw it, ready to activate the prayer flag, but the embroidered shoe came flying at his face again.

Smack... Smack...

The embroidered shoe struck repeatedly, slapping his cheeks mercilessly.

Seizing the moment, Yang Fan swung the wooden mace again.

With a dull thud, the green-robed old man disintegrated into a cloud of smoke, scattering entirely.

Several sacks of money and the black prayer flag wobbled through the air before landing on the hard clay ground.

It was only then that the burly men with large blades seemed to react, charging forward.

What had just occurred seemed slow, but in reality, it all transpired in the blink of an eye.

Yang Fan barely had time to land two strikes with his wooden mace.

This old geezer turned out to be much easier to kill than Yang Fan anticipated.

He had assumed that a man putting on such a grand display would be a tough nut to crack, which was why he targeted him first. Yet, it turned out the fellow was surprisingly fragile.

With the green-robed old man’s swift demise, the remaining masked figures hesitated.

However, Yang Fan had no intention of concerning himself with their indecision.

Whether they stayed or left, to Yang Fan, they were all enemies who needed to be wiped out.

The wooden mace, crackling with the power of lightning, spun and struck amidst the crowd. Each blow seemed to claim half a life.

These blade-wielding toughs appeared ferocious but were considerably weaker than Yang Fan had initially expected.

None of them could withstand three strikes when Yang Fan unleashed his Inner Qi fully.