Be a Good Person in Your Next Life
Three people were sitting around the round table in the private room. Huang Zeyu was facing the door, with a young man sitting next to him. The other person, with his back to the door, was busy picking up food and didn't seem to care about the person who pushed the door open.
"Who are you?" The young man next to Huang Zeyu frowned, looked up, and spoke in a sharp tone.
Shen Jingchuan closed the door behind him without stopping.
I need to speak with Mr. Huang about something.
Upon hearing that the person was looking for Huang Zeyu, the man assumed it was a business acquaintance, shrugged, and looked away, even raising an eyebrow at Huang Zeyu.
Huang Zeyu was also puzzled. He stared at the person whose face was completely covered by a mask and hat. Just as he was about to ask who it was, the person with their back to the door heard "looking for Huang Zeyu" and subconsciously turned around to look.
In that instant he turned his head, Shen Jingchuan was already behind him, his hand held upright like a knife, and he cleanly chopped the back of the man's neck. The man didn't even utter a sound; his head lolled to the side, and he slumped into the chair.
The other two people at the table froze instantly.
"You--"
With a flick of his wrist, Shen Jingchuan produced a gleaming Tang sword in his hand.
Without stopping, the blade flashed in a cold arc as he swung his arm. With a sharp "whoosh," a line of blood suddenly appeared on the neck of the young man who was about to get up and shout. Warm blood gushed out, and without uttering a sound, he fell heavily to the ground, clutching his neck with both hands and kicking his legs unconsciously.
Huang Zeyu felt his blood run cold instantly, watching helplessly as the blood-stained tip of the Tang sword slowly rose, pointing directly at his face.
"You are... Shen Jingchuan?" His voice trembled as he finally recognized the person in those icy, bone-chilling eyes.
Shen Jingchuan gripped the knife, the tip slightly lowered, his tone as calm as if he were discussing something insignificant:
"Surprised? You're allowed to have my woman kidnapped and plot against me behind my back, but I'm not allowed to come to your door?"
"You... you killed someone!" Huang Zeyu pressed his back against the chair, his hands and feet going numb. He had been a bully since he was a child, relying on his family's power and had seen many underhanded methods, but he had never seen anyone dare to kill someone directly in front of him without the slightest hesitation.
This is no ordinary businessman; he's a desperate man.
He was filled with fear and regret. At first, he was just unwilling to accept that Meng Ke had gone with someone else, so he wanted to kidnap her, force himself on her, vent his anger, and make Shen Jingchuan a cuckold.
After losing three security guards, he grew increasingly resentful. Relying on the fact that the police couldn't obtain evidence, he became fearless and used his connections to find someone who specialized in dirty work, intending to take care of both Meng Ke and Shen Jingchuan.
Who would have thought that just as he made contact with the person and they hadn't even agreed on a price, the other party would show up at his door and kill one of them right in front of him.
"Mr. Shen... we can talk this over, we can talk this over!"
Huang Zeyu waved his hand hastily, his voice trembling:
"I was just confused for a moment. I only wanted to scare Miss Meng, I really didn't mean to do anything to her! Please let me go this time, I promise I'll never do it again. I'll give you money, as much as you want—"
"You should have thought about death when you did these things."
Shen Jingchuan's eyes remained completely calm as he pushed the blade forward another half inch, the cold edge already pressed against Huang Zeyu's Adam's apple.
Huang Zeyu was terrified and jumped up, trying to rush towards the door.
But just as he was about to get up, the cold blade was already pressed firmly against his throat, the sharp edge instantly slicing through his skin, and a bead of blood seeped out.
"Move again, and your head will fall off."
Huang Zeyu stood frozen in place, not daring to breathe even a little louder.
Shen Jingchuan stepped forward, his left hand gripping his neck like an iron clamp, pinning him to the wall like a chicken.
"Go to hell! Be a good person in your next life."
His voice was extremely low, emanating a chill even through the mask. Huang Zeyu clung tightly to his arm with both hands, but the other hand seemed cast in iron, remaining completely still.
He felt a tightness in his chest, his face flushed red, and his legs kicked wildly involuntarily.
Shen Jingchuan only slowly released his grip when the neck in his hand stopped throbbing and the person went completely limp.
With a slight thought, Huang Zeyu's corpse was instantly stored in his spatial storage. The man who had been knocked unconscious by the palm strike was still slumped in his chair, unresponsive. He glanced at him, pondered for a moment, and then ignored him.
He walked to the window, grabbed a napkin from the table, placed it on his hand, and pushed open the third-floor window through the fabric with his fingertips.
The evening breeze carried the night air in. He put the napkin away, adjusted his mask, opened the door to the private room, and quickly walked out, closing the door behind him.
Two waiters walked over in the hallway and smiled politely at him. Shen Jingchuan smiled and nodded politely in return.
He took the elevator directly to the first floor, his all-black clothes blending into the night. The few specks of blood on his clothes were hidden in the dark fabric and could not be seen unless you looked closely.
He went around to a quiet alley behind the restaurant where he had eaten, right in front of the open window on the second floor.
He deftly removed his entire black outfit—clothes, hat, mask, and shoes—and stored them all away in his spatial storage, changing back into his previous attire.
Immediately afterwards, he took out a three-meter-long spear from his spatial storage, gripped the butt of the spear firmly with both hands, took a few steps back to build up momentum, and then slammed the spear tip against the ground. Using the momentum, he leaped into the air, his toes landing lightly on the third-floor windowsill, where he raised his hand and firmly gripped the window frame.
He sheathed his spear, leaped into the private room, took out a napkin from his storage space, carefully wiped the area around the window clean, and then closed the window with the napkin as a mat.
After standing there and checking himself over, he sat back down at the table, picked up his chopsticks, and started eating, reviewing the whole process as he ate.
After finishing his meal, he got up, opened the door, and calmly walked down the stairs as if nothing had happened. He got into his car and quickly disappeared into the night at the end of the street.
Shen Jingchuan returned to the West Mountain Separate Courtyard. Upon entering, he first took out his phone and placed it on the table. Then, he went into the bathroom, stripped off all his clothes, and put them all into his spatial storage.
He turned on the shower and washed himself thoroughly from head to toe, rinsing his hair and skin repeatedly to make sure there wasn't a trace left.
After drying himself off and changing into his pajamas, he picked up his phone, walked to the bedside in the bedroom, sat down, and slowly exhaled.
He felt no panic after the murder, and breathed a sigh of relief because Huang Zeyu, that scumbag, had completely disappeared from the world, and Meng Ke could finally be a little safer from now on.
He was also clear about what he was about to face, and that was exactly what he wanted.
The key is to draw the Huang Household's attention. Of course, the police will probably come knocking too. He just vanished into thin air; the police aren't stupid, they'll definitely look for him.
But he didn't think about it anymore. He had already done it anyway. He sat cross-legged, calmed his mind, and began to meditate and cultivate. Nothing was more important than cultivation.