Uproot and Destroy

The autumn rain fell without end.

The sky was grim and heavy; before the hour of Shen, the horizon had already turned into a pitch-black mass.

At the side gate of Lin Manor, Chen Ping held an oilpaper umbrella, a bundle tucked under his arm. He handed a packet of freshly bought tobacco leaves to Uncle Wang, the gatekeeper.

"Uncle Wang, you're on duty in such heavy rain? My distant uncle on my mother's side is gravely ill—he sent word for me to see him one last time. I'm afraid I won't be back tonight."

Chen Ping's face was etched with a mix of anxiety and grief, his eyes slightly reddened, his body shivering faintly in the cold wind.

Uncle Wang took the tobacco, brought it to his nose, and sniffed. The pungent aroma smoothed the wrinkles on his aged face.

"Go on, go on. You're a filial lad. This devilish weather—watch your step on the road, don't fall into a ditch."

"Ah, I'll be careful."

Chen Ping cupped his hands in a thousand thanks, turned, and vanished into the curtain of rain.

As soon as he rounded the street corner, the grief on his face vanished without a trace, leaving only a dead-calm stillness.

He didn't head for the slums south of the city. Instead, he changed direction and went straight out the north gate.

The rain grew heavier, crackling against the oilpaper umbrella.

Chen Ping stopped in a deserted grove of trees, stowed the umbrella away, and took a black straw rain cape from the bundle, draping it over himself. He then pulled out a ferocious mask with a green face and fangs, and fastened it over his face.

According to information he'd bought from beggars over the past few days with silver, after Lai San was kicked out of Lin Manor, he'd gathered a gang of ruffians and holed up in the ruined Mountain God Temple on Five Mile Slope outside the city.

Five Mile Slope, the ruined temple.

Crumbling walls couldn't block the howling draft that cut through the hall. A bonfire blazed in the center of the temple, around which several ragged men sat warming themselves, passing a greasy roast chicken between them.

Lai San's leg was still lame—he'd twisted it in fear when Master Jin slapped a mad horse to death last time. He tore viciously at a chicken leg, his face full of malice.

"Third Brother, are we really going through with this job?"

A sharp-faced, monkey-like ruffian hesitated. "Lin Manor might not be some high-and-mighty household, but they still have guards..."

"Scared of what?!"

Lai San spat out a chicken bone, his eyes gleaming with venom. "That Lin Yici is a useless waste, lying half-dead in bed now. We don't need to go into the manor—we'll ambush them on the supply road."

Lai San wiped the grease from his mouth with a sinister grin.

"I've checked it all out. There's a young widow named Yun Niang in the Inner Kitchen of Lin Manor—a real looker. We grab her, squeeze some silver out of that little bastard Chen Ping, and let the brothers have some fun..."

At the temple entrance, a dark figure had appeared, no one knew when.

The man wore a rain cape and a mask with a green face and fangs. Silhouetted against a flash of lightning, he looked like a demon crawling straight out of hell.

"Who's there?!"

Lai San's heart lurched. He grabbed a fire poker and barked out.

The dark figure said nothing, only lifting his head slightly. Behind the mask, a pair of icy eyes fixed on Lai San like nails.

"Yun Niang..."

A hoarse, low voice came from under the mask, carrying a bone-chilling coldness. "Is that a name you're fit to speak?"

Before the words faded, the figure moved.

Light Body Movement Technique, combined with the enduring inner energy of Longevity of Pine and Crane, left a blurry afterimage in the air as Chen Ping's form shot forward.

"This one's tough! Jump him together!"

Lai San roared in terror. The four ruffians beside him snapped to action, grabbing wooden clubs and stones as they charged.

Chen Ping didn't dodge or evade. As a club swung down at his head, his left hand shot out, clamping onto the ruffian's wrist like iron pincers, and twisted.

"Crack!"

The crisp sound of bone breaking cut sharply through the rainy night.

Before the ruffian's scream could escape, Chen Ping's right hand hammered out.

The palm strike looked ordinary, but it carried penetrating force.

The palm landed on the ruffian's chest. The man was blasted backward, crashing heavily into the statue of the god. His chest caved in, and blood mixed with fragments of internal organs sprayed from his mouth. He was clearly done for.

"Second Brother!"

The remaining three ruffians were scared out of their wits.

Chen Ping stepped into Plum Blossom Step, his form flitting through the crowd like a ghost.

Every time he struck, the sound of shattering bones followed.

He used no flashy moves—every attack was a straightforward killing blow.

Throat, heart, temple—each strike was lethal.

In the span of three breaths, no one was left standing in the ruined temple except Lai San.

Lai San collapsed on the ground, his crotch soaked through, the fire poker long fallen from his hand. He stared at the demon mask closing in, his teeth chattering, snot and tears streaming down his face.

"Spare me, good sir! Spare me! I... I was just running my mouth, I never really dared to touch Yun Niang! I've got money—skimmed plenty off the Lin Manor—it's all yours..."

Chen Ping walked up to Lai San, looking down at him from above.

Rainwater dripped off his straw cloak, mingling with the blood on the ground into winding rivulets.

"In your next life, remember to keep your mouth shut."

Chen Ping's voice was utterly flat.

Lai San's pupils suddenly contracted. He opened his mouth to scream.

But Chen Ping's right hand was already pressing down on his crown.

A burst of inner force.

Pfft.

Lai San's pleas cut off abruptly. Blood seeped from his seven orifices, and he crumpled limply to the ground.

The ruined temple fell silent again, save for the crackling campfire, casting its glow over the corpses strewn about.

Chen Ping pulled off his mask, revealing a cold, expressionless face.

He took a porcelain bottle from his pocket, sprinkled some Corpse Dissolving Powder over the wounds, then expertly dragged the bodies out of the temple.

Not far outside the temple was a tributary of the moat. After days of torrential rain, the river had swelled, its current fierce.

Plop. Plop.

A few dull thuds, and all the filth was swallowed by the murky water.

Done with that, Chen Ping stood by the river, letting the cold rain wash over his hands.

Killing—first time's awkward, second time's routine.

On the way back, the rain began to ease.

Chen Ping took shelter under an old locust tree, straightening his rumpled clothes.

Suddenly, he felt a scorching heat in his Dantian—the inner energy stirred up by the killing hadn't settled, rampaging wildly through his meridians.

The Longevity of Pine and Crane, which had been stuck at the second-layer peak, began to loosen under the surge of killing intent and blood energy.

"Relaxed Stillness and Naturalness... motion and stillness in harmony..."

A flash of insight struck Chen Ping. He immediately assumed the Pine and Crane Stance, breathing deeply.

The heat inside him burst forth like a breached dam, flooding his limbs and bones, finally converging in his eyes and ears.

The world around him sharpened instantly.

The trajectory of falling raindrops, the crawl of insects in the distant grass, even the tremor of water droplets on leaf veins—all were vividly perceptible.

The light panel before him flickered softly:

Code
[Skill: Longevity of Pine and Crane (Third Layer: Mastery 1/5000)]
[Effect: Five Senses Clear, Blood and Qi Like a Dragon, No Illness Befalls. Lifespan increased to eighty-eight years.]

Chen Ping opened his eyes. A glint of sharp light flashed through them, then faded back to his usual warm restraint.

"Didn't think killing could be so invigorating."

He clenched his fist, feeling the surging power, several times more formidable than before.

If he ran into Lai San and his crew now, he wouldn't even need the Shattered Stone Palm—just ramming into them with this blood energy alone would crush them to death.

By the time he returned to Lin Manor, lanterns were being lit.

Chen Ping casually pulled out a few pieces of still-warm Osmanthus Cake from the oil-paper bundle tucked inside his clothes.

He'd bought them at the best pastry shop in town, keeping them pressed against his body the whole time.

In the Inner Kitchen's small courtyard, Yun Niang sat mending clothes under the lamplight. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw Chen Ping back safe and sound. Her eyes lit up.

"Brother Ping, what took you so long? You're soaked through."

Yun Niang quickly set down her work, grabbed a dry cloth, and stood on tiptoe to gently wipe the rain from Chen Ping's hair.

"Cousin's pretty sick. We chatted a bit longer."

Chen Ping let her fuss over him, giving a simple, honest smile as he pulled out the Osmanthus Cake like a prized treasure.

"Passed by Su Xiang Zhai on the way back. Remembered you like it, so I grabbed a few pieces. Eat them while they're hot."

Yun Niang looked at the well-protected pastries, warmth flooding her heart. She scolded him lightly, "Wasting money again. Those Su Xiang Zhai snacks are outrageously expensive."

"For you, no price is too high."

Chen Ping picked up a piece and held it to Yun Niang's lips.

Her cheeks flushed slightly. She took a small bite, the sweet fragrance of osmanthus spreading through her mouth.

Watching Yun Niang's satisfied smile as she ate, Chen Ping gently rubbed his hands together inside his sleeves.

Those hands were long and strong, the knuckles calloused from years of labor, but scrubbed clean.

"Three more months..."

Chen Ping gazed at the ink-black night outside the window, calculating silently in his mind.

Three months from now was the deadline for the Imperial Military Examination registration.

Now that Longevity of Pine and Crane had broken through to the third layer, it was time to lay his cards on the table.