Killing

In the darkness, five figures crept closer.

They slowly encircled Gu Chang'an on a stone slab at the center of the ruined temple.

These five were ragged and gaunt, but their eyes were fierce and cruel, their bony hands clenched tight—clearly not their first time pulling this kind of job.

At the front stood a middle-aged man with a face full of knife scars, named Sun Wenhao.

He wore a tattered leather jacket, the torn edges revealing a yellowed undershirt beneath. His straw sandals were nearly worn through, but his stance was steady, his face thick with Sha Qi, like a wolf that hadn't eaten in days, his gaze locked tight on Gu Chang'an.

To his left was a scrawny, sharp-faced man with beady, gleaming eyes, named Guo Zimao.

He wore a short gray cloth jacket, a few hemp ropes tied around his waist, a thick wooden club in his left hand, and a mocking smirk always hanging at the corner of his mouth—like a cold, cunning fox.

The other three varied in height, all bearing the filth and bloodstains of beggars.

Their expressions were savage. They said nothing, but quietly tightened the encirclement, sealing off Gu Chang'an's escape routes completely.

Gu Chang'an swept his gaze around, a flicker of coldness flashing in his eyes.

"What... do you want?"

Sun Wenhao curled his lips into a cold smile, his voice hoarse and low, like stone grinding against sandpaper:

"Kid, hand over your money, or I'll make sure you die right here."

He took a step forward; the broken tiles underfoot cracked with a sharp sound, echoing through the temple's silent air.

"No one comes here. If you die, no one'll bury you. Your corpse'll rot and become a stray dog's dinner. You believe me?"

Murderous intent surged within Gu Chang'an, but his face remained calm as still water.

He quietly activated the system—

At the same time, a pale golden virtual panel appeared before his eyes:

[Sun Wenhao: Physique 28]

[Guo Zimao: Physique 25]

[Wang Shuanzhu: Physique 21]

[Zhang Laosi: Physique 22]

[Li Erguai: Physique 18]

"...Not bad."

Gu Chang'an's gaze sharpened as he coldly calculated in his mind.

The strongest was only Physique 28, while he had 37.

The firewood knife in his hand might be dull, but his Iron Cutting Saber Technique had already reached Initial Mastery.

If it came to a life-or-death fight, he was sure to have the upper hand.

He suppressed the killing intent rising in his chest and forced his tone to sound indifferent:

"I... don't have any money on me."

As he spoke, his left hand slowly dropped.

His fingers quietly touched the rusted firewood knife at his waist, the tips lightly stroking the handle as murderous intent brewed within.

Guo Zimao sneered, a cold glint flashing in his eyes:

"Who're you trying to fool? I've been watching you for days. You earn seventeen or eighteen coppers a day, barely spend any—you must've saved up at least three hundred by now, right?"

His gaze was greedy, his expression twisted, his voice carrying a gnashing, vicious edge.

Those squinting eyes gleamed with a thief's light in the darkness, as if he could already see the money falling into his hands.

If they could snatch that money, they'd be able to live well for a few days.

Hearing this, Gu Chang'an's gaze turned icy cold in an instant, murder flashing across his brow.

He clenched his teeth and said nothing, his body quietly sinking as he gathered his strength, like a bow pulled taut, ready to strike back at any moment.

Sun Wenhao narrowed his eyes, sensing the shift in the other's aura. He wasted no more words, killing intent surging in his own gaze as he suddenly roared:

"Go!"

In that instant, all five moved at once!

In the ruined temple, the air turned frigid, killing intent crashing like a wave.

Gu Chang'an's eyes blazed with cold light. He kicked off the ground, his body springing up like a hawk!

The firewood knife cut through the air, splitting the wind like thunder!

—He had drawn his blade!

The darkness tore like ripped silk under that single strike. The wind-splitting sound screeched sharply as the knife, carrying heavy force, burst from Gu Chang'an's waist, ripping through the air and slashing straight toward the foremost—Wang Shuanzhu!

This beggar was burly, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, charging at the front.

He never expected the youth's blade to be so fast—he barely had time to react, only managing a terrified cry:

"No—!"

The next moment—

Thunk!

A dull sound—the cleaver slashed diagonally from his shoulder blade straight into his neck, shattering bone and tearing flesh. Blood gushed like a fountain.

His bull-like eyes bulged with terror and disbelief. His throat gurgled a few times, but he couldn't even manage a complete plea for mercy.

His body toppled like a felled, rotten tree, crashing to the ground. Blood bubbled from his mouth and nose as his limbs twitched and he died.

"One."

Gu Chang'an's gaze was icy cold. He reversed his grip and pulled the blade free. Blood dripped from the edge like falling beads.

The remaining three recoiled in shock. Sun Wenhao roared:

"Don't be afraid! He's alone! One man, one blade—hack him to pieces!!"

The other three instantly closed in. Zhang Laosi was the fastest—his iron hook lashed out, carrying a cold gleam straight for Gu Chang'an's calf!

Gu Chang'an snorted coldly, having already seen through the move. He sidestepped with a sliding footwork, his body leaping diagonally!

"Break!"

The cleaver came crashing down from an oblique angle above, heavy as a mountain!

Crack!

Before Zhang Laosi could fully dodge with his hook, his right hand—along with half his wrist and the chain-attached hook—was severed clean off!

"Aaaaah! My hand!!"

Zhang Laosi knelt and shrieked, blood spurting like a geyser. His eyes were wide, his mind nearly shattered by the agony!

But Gu Chang'an didn't pause for a moment. He stepped forward and swung the blade down like splitting dry wood, straight at the crown of his head!

Thud!

Blood and brains splattered. Zhang Laosi was cleaved in two with a single stroke—body and head separated!

"Two."

The voice was low, like a death sentence from hell.

Blood flowed down the spine of the blade, seeping through Gu Chang'an's fingers like spilled ink.

The smell of blood in the air grew thicker. In the ruined temple, ghostly aura coiled thickly, like a purgatory.

Li Erguai had witnessed everything. His face was already drained of color. His legs trembled, and with a thud, he dropped to his knees:

"Don't kill me! I don't wanna die! They forced me! I—I was just watching, really! I wasn't robbing anyone, I didn't do anything!!"

Tears and snot streamed down his face. His words were incoherent. He collapsed in the pool of blood, kowtowing and begging for mercy.

Gu Chang'an watched him quietly, his gaze as cold as early winter frost:

"When you surrounded me, did you ask if I wanted to live?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it struck like a thousand-pound hammer, slamming hard into Li Erguai's heart!

The next instant, he drew his blade and swung horizontally!

"Don't—!"

Li Erguai's scream was cut short. His head flew up, and a pillar of blood shot high.

That twisted, terrified face—even as it rolled across the ground, its eyes were still wide open, as if unable to believe this was real.

"The third."

Gu Chang'an murmured. His footsteps crushed broken bricks and shattered tiles as he slowly turned. His gaze, sharp as a blade, fell on the last two—Sun Wenhao and Guo Zimao.

Their faces were as pale as paper. All trace of their earlier ferocity was gone. Only fear and regret remained in their eyes, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

Blood pooled at their feet like a river.

Deathly aura churned and surged through the ruined temple.

They finally realized—the youth before them was no prey. He was death itself!

In that instant, Sun Wenhao and Guo Zimao almost instinctively wanted to turn and run. But behind them were broken walls and shattered pillars, a pitch-black night—no retreat.

"Don't be afraid!" Sun Wenhao roared, as if to bolster his companion and himself. "He's alone! Two of us, together—hack him to death!!"

Guo Zimao's lips quivered. He forced down his terror, gritted his teeth, and pulled a dagger from his sleeve. His face twisted into a mix of savagery and madness:

"Fuck it! Let's go for it!"

Before the words faded, both charged at once—one left, one right, pincer attack!

Sun Wenhao raised his chopping blade high, heavy as a mountain, and brought it down from above straight at Gu Chang'an's crown!

Guo Zimao moved lightly, ghosting to the flank, his dagger gleaming coldly as it stabbed toward Gu Chang'an's ribs!

"Die!!"

Two roars, thunderous in force!

But there was no fear in Gu Chang'an's eyes—only a deeper, sharper cold.

A life-or-death battle left no room for even a moment's hesitation!

"Good timing!"

He let out a low growl, stomping his foot, sending gravel flying through the air.

"What?!"

Sun Wenhao, his eyes stung by the sand, felt a jolt of alarm and his expression turned panicked.

"Bam!"

Just as his blade was about to fall, Gu Chang'an abruptly rolled along the ground, unleashing a sweeping strike like a raging storm. The saber curved around his back and lashed out with the speed of thunder!

"Ahhh--!!"

Guo Zimao had no time to react. The cleaver swept in like a wild bolt of lightning, slashing horizontally!

He only felt a chill at his waist. Looking down, he saw his own belly sliced open, entrails spilling out, blood gushing like a fountain!

"Aaaah!! My stomach--!!"

He staggered back a few steps, trying to cup his spilling organs with both hands, letting out a wretched wail as he collapsed to his knees, a pitiful sight.

"Fourth."

Gu Chang'an murmured. Without pausing for breath, he spun and leaped up, gripping the cleaver with both hands, raising it high like a mountain.

Sun Wenhao roared and chased after him, swinging his blade: "Die already--!!"

But Gu Chang'an had already finished gathering his strength. The cleaver came crashing down from above his head, surging like thunder, meeting the opponent's saber head-on!

"Clang!!"

Metal clashed, sparks flying!

Sun Wenhao felt his tiger's-mouth split numb, his entire arm nearly losing strength from the shock.

"How... how is this possible?!"

He was utterly horrified, unable to imagine how a youth could possess such terrifying explosive power.

But Gu Chang'an gave him no chance to catch his breath. He pivoted on his foot, half-turning, and drove an elbow straight into him!

"Bam!!"

The elbow struck Sun Wenhao square in the face. His nose bridge instantly collapsed, blood splattered, and he stumbled backward, his vision blurred.

Before he could steady himself, Gu Chang'an was already closing in!

The cleaver shot up like a viper striking, slashing from low to high!

"Pfft!"

The blade sliced diagonally from under Sun Wenhao's jaw, piercing straight through his mouth and nasal cavity, bursting out through the top of his head!

Blood mixed with brains sprayed across the wall. Sun Wenhao's face was frozen in shock, as if he couldn't believe he was dead.

"I... didn't want..."

He opened his mouth to say something, but only a few gurgles came out. Then he crumpled to the ground, silent.

"Fifth."

Gu Chang'an stood in the center of the pool of blood, his clothes stained red, the cleaver hanging low. Rust-spotted droplets of crimson liquid dripped from the blade, pattering down, eerily clear in the silence.

He let out a light breath, then looked up at the sky.

Though his physique wasn't far beyond these men, his Iron Cutting Saber Technique had reached Initial Mastery, making him far more capable in combat than them.

Without a moment's hesitation, he quickly searched the five bodies.

Soon, he found a few tattered pouches on them.

He stashed the items into his own worn bag, then swiftly turned and slipped away from the ruined temple under the cover of darkness.

Gu Chang'an hurried along, weaving through narrow alleys. Only when he was sure no one was following did he finally stop, collapsing onto a stone slab, hands braced on the ground, eyes shut tight, breathing deeply.

Killing for the first time, his heart didn't pound as he'd imagined. Instead, it was eerily calm.

He muttered to himself: "Can't go back to the temple now. Still short on money for a new household registration..."

Suddenly, his hand brushed against some copper coins in the tattered pouch. His eyes lit up.

He quickly pulled them out and was surprised to find that Sun Wenhao and the other four had been carrying quite a few copper coins on them.

And the amount... wasn't small...

The next morning, before dawn.

Several constables in short gray robes, with badges hanging at their waists, wore cold expressions and impatient looks.

At their feet lay five corpses, blood still wet, sprawled across the dirt and grass. Their faces were twisted, their deaths horrifying.

"Ugh..." A young constable, new to the job, turned aside and started dry heaving at the sight.

The older Captain Zhao frowned, crouched down to examine the bodies closely, and gently flipped open Sun Wenhao's collar, revealing the neck bone severed by a single clean cut.

He narrowed his eyes, watched for a moment, then spoke slowly:

"Not a demon, not torn by claws, no blood drained. This was done by a man."

He lifted Guo Zimao's corpse again, pointed at the wound, and sighed:

"Look at the cut—clean and decisive, enough force, steady angle, one strike to kill. Mm, this killer—he's a trained fighter, and the kind who's practiced with real blades."

Another constable wore his doubt plain on his face. "A trained fighter? Sounds like gang infighting."

Not one of them suspected the killer was a refugee.

After all, refugees barely scraped by—where would they find the strength and resources to train in martial arts?

Captain Zhao snorted coldly: "These days, refugees getting killed—common business."

He stood up and waved a hand behind him:

"Alright, drag the corpse away, toss it in the mass grave. A refugee's life isn't worth a damn."

"You heard the boss."

A few constables briskly hauled the corpse, tied it with hemp rope, and loaded it onto a rickety cart, which creaked and groaned all the way to the western outskirts.

The ruined temple fell silent once more, as if last night's blood and slaughter had never happened.

Pools of black-red blood still stained the corners, faintly reeking, but no one paid them any mind.

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