Killing for Points?

His body swayed slightly. If one listened carefully, faint yet heavy breathing could be heard.

He had clearly fallen into a trap and was suppressing the pain.

Judging by the way he moved, his left foot or left leg had probably been pierced?

Maybe he was still cursing inside, wondering why anyone would set traps around where they lived.

"Ha ha, I really want to laugh."

Fang Ling was delighted inside, then quickly calmed down.

Laughing was fine, but for now, he could only think about it.

He had merely stepped into one trap, slowing his movements. It was not yet a sure thing.

At the very least, he had to wait until both of his legs were caught in traps.

Watching him luckily skirt around several traps in the grass, Fang Ling grew anxious and kept cursing under his breath:

"Fucking step on one already!"

Whether through luck or skill, the shadow moved through the darkness, dragging one injured leg and approaching cautiously, yet still failed to step on another.

There was nothing to be done about that. He had to leave enough space to set the traps.

But this would not do.

His footsteps were heavy, and his voice was thick with a trace of age. He was definitely an adult man.

Even with an injured foot, Fang Ling's small frame would have a hard time defeating him head-on.

He could not let this man get close. He had to take the initiative while the man was still surrounded by traps.

How should he attack?

Lure him into the traps!

Use one's strengths to attack the enemy's weaknesses.

The ancestors' concise wisdom could not be ignored.

The trap formation on the ground was Fang Ling's strength.

The shadow, who kept moving despite stepping into a trap, was as nervous as a startled bird. He could only push aside the grass and slowly advance through the trap formation. That was his weakness!

"Kill!"

Fang Ling shouted furiously, his voice exploding through the silent night as he threw out a broken roof tile.

He was not trying to hurt anyone. He only wanted to startle the snake in the grass.

The shadow shuddered at the fierce killing cry from inside the house. Fear filled his mind, and he was instantly alarmed.

He did not dare let that unknown attack hit him, so he turned and dodged to the left.

Then he successfully stepped into a trap.

A sharp wooden spear pierced through the shadow's ragged cloth shoe and through his other foot.

The shadow's legs gave out, and he collapsed in an instant.

One hand instinctively grabbed onto the nearby tree trunk.

As it happened, there was also a bow-and-arrow trap on the tree, made using the elasticity of branches. Its arrow was wooden, with a carbonized tip.

He had triggered the second trap!

Pulled by the tree trunk's spring force, the wooden arrow shot forth with tremendous power, piercing directly into his back. Half of it sank in, entering his lung.

The intense pain finally became unbearable, and the shadow dropped to his knees.

He let out a miserable scream like a pig being slaughtered.

"Ah—!"

"Die!"

With a cold snort, Fang Ling leaped down from the windowsill.

Using his body weight, a flash of light appeared in Fang Ling's hand, and a sharp Agricultural Scythe appeared at once, aimed at the shadow's neck.

Just as it was about to slice through, the shadow endured the pain and immediately raised his hand.

"Clang!"

An exquisite Dagger collided with the scythe, producing a crisp metallic ring.

"Little Cripple, you're dead!"

The shadow snorted. His voice was shrill and grating as he endured the pain, yet it still sounded somewhat familiar.

"Huh, you blocked that too?"

Startled, Fang Ling had no time to identify who this person was. His left hand immediately reached for the pouch at the back of his waist.

He grabbed a handful of white powder and flung it toward the shadow's eyes.

The darkness provided the greatest cover. Caught off guard, the shadow was indeed hit.

He had never imagined that someone could be so underhanded.

There were traps everywhere, on the ground and in the trees. Even in battle, Fang Ling resorted to ambushes and dirty tricks.

"Ah! Quicklime! Your mother..."

Fang Ling had made this quicklime himself using fire and limestone. It was excellent for screwing people over!

The burning sensation in his eyes made the shadow shut them involuntarily. Hot tears poured down his face as he instinctively tried to rub his eyes.

Fang Ling did not dare let his attention slip for even a moment. Seizing this opportunity, he swung the scythe in his hand with ferocious speed.

Even though it was only an Agricultural Scythe used for cutting grass, the instant it swept across, it sliced through the front half of his neck.

His windpipe was severed, along with the two shallow yet crucial blood vessels on either side of his neck. Fresh Blood sprayed wildly, splattering Fang Ling's face.

Blood gushed across his face. Afraid of a desperate counterattack from a dying man, Fang Ling did not dare linger and immediately retreated.

He backed into the house, revealing only a pair of eyes from the corner by the wall.

On the other side, the shadow was already on the verge of death.

The loss of blood supply to his brain nearly robbed him of the ability to think.

Fresh Blood flooded his throat, making him produce hoarse "huh, huh" sounds.

Relying on his remaining impressions, the shadow could only wildly swing his Dagger once before dying.

Then he chose a direction and hurled it with all his strength, hoping to injure Fang Ling somehow.

Not only was it wildly off target, but Fang Ling was hiding indoors and pressed against the wall. Naturally, it did not hit him.

The Dagger landed on the ground with only a light, crisp sound.

Fang Ling watched the direction the sound had come from, before he could make any move.

Something unexpected happened—the Gray Progress Bar in his vision suddenly surged forward by a small section, advancing by one percent.

His pupils contracted violently.

He had found the way to gain points!

It was a vicious method of advancement, closer on Douluo Continent to that of a Fallen Spirit Master, also known as an Evil Spirit Master—

Killing for Points!

Of course, as an outsider from another world with rather flexible moral boundaries, Fang Ling did not mind this quick method of improving his cultivation.

He was alone, a little beggar with an Ordinary Scythe as his Martial Soul and no family.

As long as he could level up, he could accept slaughtering all around him.

Putting points into the Stats Panel would not cause any side effects anyway.

But the amount was far too little. An ordinary adult man without Soul Power had only given one percent. What did that mean?

He had to kill a hundred people to gain one point and raise one level!

He would have to kill a thousand people to reach level ten!

After doing the simple calculation, Fang Ling could not help standing there in a daze.

Honestly, that was hard to judge.

Soul Masters would probably provide more progress. It was not impossible that one person could add an entire point to the Progress Bar.

But Fang Ling definitely could not defeat any Soul Master right now, even one from the support system, so he would not consider that for the time being.

Killing ordinary people was unrealistic.

Angels were revered, and Spirit Hall suppressed the age. If he killed too excessively, he would definitely be hunted down.

Besides, it went against his true nature.

They had not offended him. If he killed them for no reason, what would that make him?

Bearing others' hatred, changing his kind heart, eventually becoming indifferent to life, and making enemies of the whole world.

No matter how one looked at it, such bottomless slaughter would ultimately only destroy himself.

There were better options to choose from.

In an instant, Fang Ling thought of two places: the Great Soul Arena, where Life and Death Battles could be fought, and Slaughter City.

Especially Slaughter City. A place where one could kill at will was practically a holy land for leveling up!

It was filled with mid- and high-level Soul Masters. There were even Titled Douluo.

How many points could he gain from killing a Titled Douluo? It was almost unimaginable.

Of course, he would need to improve his combat strength first. His actual strength had to be enough to pass the test, or he would simply be delivering himself to death.

A Titled Douluo's Soul Power alone could crush him to death right now.

And while Slaughter City was easy to enter, it was not so easy to leave.

If Tang San had not had Tang Hao behind him, and Hu Liena had not had Bibi Dong behind her, forget one hundred battles—even by seventy or eighty battles, no, sixty or seventy, the two of them would have been killed by the big Bat.

Therefore, Fang Ling had to obtain one of their support.

Because of his broken leg, he would definitely go after the Blue Silver Emperor Right Leg Bone and become enemies with Hao Zi. That path would not work.

That left only Bibi Dong's side.

This female pope looked beautiful, but madness lurked beneath the surface of her heart. The less he dealt with her, the better.

He needed to think this through carefully.