He Died in Battle

Kunwu didn't care about Zhao Jianying's life.

The real reason that shamed and humiliated him, and shook his mind, was actually the knife that cut the chains.

This ordinary person actually dared to threaten suicide, he's even willing to risk his life!

Faced with Judas's confinement and control, Kunwu had actually considered ending his life.

But when it comes to actually carrying it out, he'll find reasons and excuses for himself, saying stupid things that even he doesn't want to believe.

If death would end everything and grant freedom, then what's the point of living? He's struggled for so long, endured so much suffering, just to survive.

If a single stab could solve all his troubles, wouldn't Wang Damin have wasted his life?

His self-destructive urges weren't that strong, nor did he have any grand vows or ideals of sacrificing himself for righteousness. When he saw Zhao Jianying stabbing himself in the heart and committing suicide, this Immortals felt both envy and fear. Ultimately, his overly strong will to live made him incomprehensible and unable to agree with it.

It was almost dusk, and the setting sun cast two shadows.

Kunwu knew that the gunsmith had arrived. So he continued fighting and spouting highly offensive nonsense.

"You've got a good dog; it's willing to die for you. That's a good thing."

Xue Ming stood on the other side of the alley entrance, his face and complexion terrible. A cigarette dangled from his fingertips, and he wore Jianying's long robe. He showed no emotion upon seeing the corpse, but upon hearing Kunwu's provocation, knowing it was a psychological tactic, he still couldn't help but erupt in anger. "Bullshit!"

Kunwu realized that this provocation tactic was effective, and he wasn't in a hurry to act.

--Since the gunsmith fears the soul power of [Defying Heaven and Changing Fate], then this duel is a contest of mental strength and a clash of wills.

"Do you dare to argue with me?"

Jiang Xueming squatted down beside Jianying and closed his brother's eyes. He explained that the finger that Berloberg cut off was a habit left behind by the nameless man and the warband when they fought side by side—fingerprints could identify a person, and handing the finger to a soldier's family meant that he had gone home.

He remained silent, surveying the facade of the paint workshop, while Kunwu launched into a long and eloquent discourse.

"Isn't he your dog? I thought this kid was pretending to be you to buy you time—turns out it was all wishful thinking on his part? In your heart, he's not even a dog?"

"Could someone like you really consider ordinary people as beings of the same kind and level as yourself? Wow—that's quite strange, Gunsmith."

"Six years, a full six years, more than two thousand days, during which you killed more than twenty thousand Holy Order soldiers, including the elderly, women and children who were powerless to even kill a chicken, as well as the strong and capable leaders of the Religious order. You treated them all equally."

"I even think that you don't care about the lives of the people in Taiye City at all."

"Perhaps when you find the opportunity, you can kill all my adopted sons and grandsons, my descendants for eighteen generations, and then come and kill me."

"You really care about this kid's worthless life? You hypocritical bastard."

The more Kunwu cursed, the more panicked he became.

--Because the gunsmith is like a dead man.

If provocation doesn't work and you can't break through his defenses, then this [Defying Heaven and Changing Fate] spiritual power will be difficult to unleash.

Remember when Jianying first found the money to buy his life? He was short-sighted and had a guilty conscience. He looked around and lost his composure, which is how Yaksha Mei seized the opportunity. The little devil crawled into his stomach and swapped lives with Young Master Han's old mother.

Kunwu often spouts fallacies to get people to say "thank you" and to make these barbarians feel indebted to their leader. This is one of the important conditions for launching [Defying Heaven and Changing Fate].

How about we phrase it differently? Or change the subject?

"So be it, at least I died a worthy death."

"In Shambhala, who isn't a meat dog?"

"I served Judas, begging and pleading for any credit I could get. I've toiled my whole life, like a guard dog, and I might even end up in my master's stomach before I die—but I still have to say thank you for my master's kindness."

"Isn't this the same thing when you work for Ming De?"

"Zhao Jianying did things for you, died in your place, and he still felt indebted to you. It seems he was shouting something before he died."

Kunwu squinted, feigning concern as she listened intently.

"It's all wiped clean, Jiang Xueming, all wiped clean?"

"Only when I heard this did I realize that you were also a moneylender, making a living off people's love and lives."

"The eldest son of the Zhao family is also your lackey. After taking the blame for you, he should thank you even if he dies."

A convoy of wagons carrying goods entered from the street corner, and shop assistants came out to help with the transport; the number of people grew larger and larger.

People didn't care about this cult leader because Kunwu was too down-to-earth and too ordinary.

There are always a few days each month when the leader will spar with fellow cultivators, usually to make friends. Everyone is used to it, unless someone actually dies, then they'll gather around to watch the spectacle.

Before Zhao Jianying died, this spectacle was quite interesting. After his death, everyone assumed that following the same pattern, the new strange monk would just chat for a while, go back to drink his tea, and it would be another scene of reconciliation, which was quite boring.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Kunwu cursed, "You piece of trash, are you feeling guilty? Afraid to speak?"

"I can't sense Jianying's spirit." Jiang Xueming spoke slowly, gradually opening his eyes. "Shh, don't be impatient—I have plenty of time to deal with you."

According to the spiritual methods of the Nine Realms, after a person dies, their spirit will linger at the place of death for a while. If the attachment is strong enough, it should also stay in the place where the person lived for a period of time. Any Inspiration sensitive person can communicate with these spirits in a simple way.

But Jiang Xueming couldn't sense Zhao Jianying's presence.

--This land seems to forbid spirits from freely traversing the heavens and earth, not even granting them a moment to bid farewell.

"Kunwu," Jiang Xueming waited for an opportunity. "Have you ever thought about why I am who I am?"

Kunwu: "Why are you you?"

Jiang Xueming: "Why is a gunsmith a gunsmith?"

Kunwu: "Huh?"

Jiang Xueming: "I can be Jiang Xueming —you know me."

Kunwu: "Huh?"

Jiang Xueming: "You said it yourself, Kunwu, you know my story, I'm just a beef offal vendor."

Kunwu: "Oh"

"I could have continued living like this, continuing to be my Jiang Xueming." Jiang Xueming finally wiped the blood off her fingers, intending to bring this keepsake to Jianxiong: "I could have been anyone. I could have delivered newspapers, worked as a restaurant helper."

"I can earn some money to get a degree, then get a driver's license and become a driver, driving a big truck for long-distance transport. I can stay up all night, and I love driving big trucks."

"If all else fails, I could just live off my looks and maybe then I wouldn't have to work so hard anymore."

Do you think this makes sense?

Kunwu dared not act rashly, but he had no choice but to accept this nonsense.

If he doesn't answer, his heart will crack, and his spiritual power won't be as effective.

"That makes some sense."

Jiang Xueming suddenly clenched his fist. "You cursed Jianying, called him a meat dog, but have you ever thought about it?"

"Like me, he originally had three brothers to inherit the family business with his parents, but they were hit by a series of natural disasters and man-made calamities. In the end, all he wanted was to hide in this small family, live with Xiangxiang, have a few children, and continue the family line."

"He doesn't have to wear the monk's robes, he doesn't have to be my scapegoat, he doesn't have to bear the false name of gunsmith—he can even take my head and exchange it for merit and a better future."

"Kunwu!--"

Jiang Xueming gritted his teeth, his eyes turning bloodshot.

"Now you know why Jiang Xueming is a gunsmith! And why I am who I am!"

"Because of the dirty business run by scum like you! I can't even protect my family, how can I live a peaceful life?!"

"Did Jianying die in my place? Did I kill him?"

Kunwu quickly replied, "Of course! You said it yourself."

"Bullshit!" Jiang Xueming glared angrily at the sorcerer's nose. "He died in battle! The Gate of Wonders has no prisoners, and the Nameless One has none!"

"Remember this carefully, think it through: how many human skins I peeled off your body, how many lives I killed—all were tormented to death by your vengeful spirit. In the King of Hell's palace, you'll be thrown into a vat of boiling oil. How many people you harmed in life will all stomp on your head! They'll defecate and piss on your face!"

At this moment, Kunwu finally understood, finally realized, and finally gave up his illusions.

The gunsmith's will and determination far exceeded his imagination.

--This is someone who cannot be defeated by fallacies, heresies, or the sword of morality; at least Kunwu cannot.

There was no room for cooperation between them, only an irreconcilable hatred. It was precisely because of this hatred that Jiang Xueming became a gunsmith.

There's no need to discuss the three types of benefits: fortune, prosperity, and longevity.

Power, money, immortality—these were the conditions the Madness Butterfly Sect and the gunsmith had discussed time and again, but they meant nothing in the face of this hatred.

Kungo tried to use moral condemnation and human lives as leverage, attempting this several times, but all he received in return was a surging, intense fighting spirit, and ever-growing rage and spiritual pressure.

At this point, he finally began to feel afraid.

This Immortals, despite possessing the psychic power to Defying Heaven and Changing Fate, always felt uneasy and inferior.

In the duel with the gunsmith, this terrifying opponent would occasionally exude a chilling killing intent, like a knife cutting through the skin. The Inspiration Pressure made his whole body itch and hurt—and soon bright red spots appeared on his skin.

"[Defying Heaven and Changing Fate the Destiny]!"

Wang Damin finally lost patience. Since attacking on the psychological level was not effective, he had to find a way to change his tactics.

From within this fleshy body emerged a thick, short, stout bush—

--This is the true form of [Defying Heaven and Changing Fate the Destiny]. Unlike other Immortals, it is not in the shape of a bird. It is more like a lush bird's nest.

From the densely packed tree hollows, countless birds emerged.

Hundreds and thousands of red and blue "birds" climbed the branches and leaves, transforming into the colors of Yin and Yang, revealing the true forms of the Yaksha and Rakshasa demons.

The Yaksha Mei has gray-blue bird feathers, holds a gleaming steel fork in her hand, has two wings on her back, and a pair of big, bright eyes that are very cute. She has a pointed nose and a protruding mouth, just like a parrot.

The little Rakshasa had very little flesh on its body, but it had bright yellow feathers. Its skull had turned into a dried corpse, and a bright, surging soul fire was burning inside. It held two iron rods in its hands, which, when gathered together, transformed into a fire phoenix.

There are fifty-two of these blue-haired Yaksha Mei; they're considered currency in the treasury.

There are 661 red-clad Rakshasa. This money has already been spent and has all been converted into Kunwu's life force.

Both represent cause and effect and karma, as well as the acquisition and transfer of energy.

Those who run a human flesh business always need to keep some cash on hand for cash flow and operations—the total price of this business is 666 chances to turn their fate around.

At this moment, the remaining fifty-two Yaksha Mei in the tree hole represent Kunwu's attack front.

He was going to go all out to defeat the gunsmith in one fell swoop and completely control the blade. With the Yaksha demon's nimble and unpredictable movements and speed, it was almost impossible for the gunsmith to stop so many targets.

"Bang!--"

"Bang bang bang!--Bang bang--Bang bang!--"

Bullets and fists shattered Kunwu's illusions.

This was a clash of soul power against soul power. When the gunsmith held a fledgling eagle in his hand, Kunwu felt a piercing pain in his heart. At the moment his spirit was shattered, his face turned pale with disbelief.

More than fifty Yaksha Mei darted and leaped through the air, only to be pulverized by the powerful sonic waves of the bullets the instant they approached the gunsmith. Immediately following behind, armored iron fists charged out, raining down punches on the stunned, headless flies.

In a split second, Xue Ming emptied the first magazine, immediately reloaded with lightning speed, and fired a dozen more rounds at Kunwu.

The metal was like a flying sword without a shadow, blasting Kunwu off balance and causing him to stumble. His head was hit all over the place with a clanging sound. Surprised, he straightened his head and couldn't help but ask a question.

"You're killing people! Gunsmith! You're killing people! You've killed more than ten more!"

"I'll kill your demonic offspring! Is there a problem?" the gunsmith replied while loading a magazine. "After I've killed all 666 of your lives, it'll be your turn soon—don't worry, it'll be over quickly."

"Holy crap!" Kunwu gasped, he had never seen such a depraved, cruel, and bloodthirsty demon.

Tell me a hellish joke--

Wang Damin had also seen many Blood-giving Monsters.

These Blood-giving Monster kill for food and drink.

But when gunsmiths kill hostages, they seem to show absolutely no reason! They're even more savage than the feeding instincts of Blood-giving Monster!

Thinking of this, Kunwu lost his will to fight. He felt his soul power damaged and his brain throbbing with pain; he could no longer fight! This gunsmith was a madman! Did he really intend to wipe out all six hundred lives? After seeing his hand, he immediately went all in! He was a gambler!

He told himself this more than once—

--Wang Damin, there's no need to risk your life against this guy!

You can go back to your cave first, escape back, find the Four Duty Officers, get the Seed of Chaos, and then call Judas. Ask your boss to send some thugs to protect you!

Yes. You can't think about "freedom" or "rebellion" anymore; that's not something you should be thinking about.

The moment when fighting spirit further weakened--

In the instant Kunwu fled, leaving his vulnerable back to the gunsmith, he immediately felt unable to move.

He turned around and saw a bucket of bright red lacquer being splashed over him. Then a bucket of sticky rice glue was being poured down from the top of his head.

"What?!"

Fragrant Dream seemed like a bricklayer with superhuman speed, gathering materials from a nearby renovation shop and waiting for the resupply cart to arrive, fearing there wouldn't be enough materials—in just a few breaths, Kunwu was practically transformed into a sculpture.

Zhao Jianying

"You did it on purpose. You..."

Kunwu's jaw was immobile, and a few whimpers escaped from his throat. He could neither see nor hear anything, and his ear canals were filled with sticky glue.

With a slight movement, his knee joint shook off a considerable amount of paint and rice material. Fragrant Dream immediately picked up a bucket to replenish it, stuffing in a lot of ceramic pebbles and broken tiles to reinforce the concrete structure. His body sprayed out scalding air, instantly drying and cracking the viscous paste-like slurry and paint.

A few minutes later, a small mound of earth appeared in front of Jiang Xueming, with only Kunwu's two nostrils visible.

The moment the sun completely set, the residents, having had their fill of excitement, all went home to sleep.

"Jianying is not a dog."

Jiang Xueming held down Kunwu's "stone head" and asked Fragrant Dream to dig the "statue" out of the ground, preparing to pack it up and transport it away.

To reiterate --

"--He died in battle."