Passing the Three Trials

Master Hao Wei offered a compromise in a breezy, offhand manner—one both sides could barely accept.

"Fine," Xu Donglai agreed. Zhou Hu also accepted the arrangement without objection.

Zhao An stood in the middle of the hall, with no room to choose. His life and death were being decided by a few casual words from other people.

He smacked his lips. It truly was a bitter feeling.

In his previous life, at least the law had protected him. But here, whoever had the stronger fist made the rules!

"Strength..." Zhao An murmured, reaching back to touch the hilt of the Big Ring Blade slung across his back.

"Zhao An, don't blame me. You killed Xu San, so you were bound to face this ordeal today. I've fought to give you a sliver of hope. Make the most of it." Hao Wei spoke as he held a folding fan, tapping it lightly.

Zhao An said nothing. This wasn't up to him.

"Brother Zhao, your wound..." Zhao Chunzi looked worried.

"Stay back," Zhao An said flatly.

"Brother Zhao, be careful!" Li Gou'er said. Neither of them had any standing, and there was even less they could do to help Zhao An.

The other Tiger Head Gang leaders were all his elders. They weren't on particularly good terms with Zhao An, a younger man whose star was rising fast, and not one of them spoke up for him. Most were even taking pleasure in his misfortune.

Some of the gang's core members were positively hoping Zhao An would die and leave his leadership position open.

"Liu Gen, you're up." Xu Donglai called on him.

A middle-aged man stepped out from the crowd, carrying a cleaver. He glanced at the wound on Zhao An's head and grinned with amusement.

By Python Gang rules, anyone who won a fight to the death that brought honor to the gang received five taels of silver. It was a decent reward.

Seeing Zhao An still injured, Liu Gen thought this would be easy money.

"Boy, you're dead today!" Liu Gen declared, holding his cleaver with its tip pointed at the ground.

Zhao An drew the Big Ring Blade he had brought with him. Its nine iron rings clanged.

He felt a growing heat throughout his body, as if his blood were boiling.

A savage mood coiled around his heart.

Afraid to fight?

Impossible!

His predecessor had been a hot-tempered brawler, and Zhao An was no weakling himself!

Just a Red Name. He'd kill him, and that was that!

"Die!" Liu Gen roared. He strode forward with his cleaver and swung it at Zhao An.

Zhao An's expression didn't change. His body moved as if on instinct: his foot slid, he sidestepped, and brought up his blade.

The blade rose at an exceptionally tricky angle, flashing past Liu Gen's eyes.

In the next instant, Zhao An sliced off the arm holding Liu Gen's cleaver.

Blood sprayed like shattered crimson beads of jade, scattering across the ground.

Before Liu Gen could even scream, Zhao An's left hand clamped around his neck and yanked him over.

His fingers dug almost into the flesh, squeezing hard enough to crush Liu Gen's windpipe.

Zhao An had no interest in listening to his opponent's dying cries or pleas. He drove his blade clean through Liu Gen's heart.

"You think someone like you could kill me?" Zhao An said coolly. He hadn't expected to adapt to killing so quickly.

Now he felt no discomfort at all. If anything, he was exhilarated by the taste of blood.

[Your many evil deeds have condemned your soul!]

Liu Gen's death wasn't the end. His spirit was captured and made into a Soul Slave, before finally dissipating into nothing.

The Red Name criminals who crossed paths with Zhao An could only blame their bad luck.

A brief silence fell over the hall.

Several Tiger Head Gang leaders exchanged glances, all seeing astonishment in one another's eyes.

Since when had Zhao An possessed such exquisite blade skills?!

The brawny brute who'd always relied on his fists was suddenly wielding a blade. It was both unexpected and jarring.

Even Zhou Hu, the gang leader, looked at Zhao An more closely.

Xu Donglai's expression darkened. Then he called on a second man.

"Dafu."

A plump man stepped out from behind Xu Donglai. His nostrils flared upward, giving him a distinctly piggish look.

"That old fool Liu Gen was completely useless. He couldn't even handle a snot-nosed brat!" Dafu fumed.

He drew a cleaver just like Liu Gen's and charged straight at Zhao An.

When he was two steps away, he threw himself into a sideways flip, spun once in midair, and brought his cleaver down in a heavy, full-bodied swing.

Zhao An planted his feet and raised his blade to block. He held firm.

Dafu hadn't expected his strike to do no damage. He realized he'd underestimated the boy's strength.

As he prepared to swing again, the iron rings clanged, and a blade flashed through the air before his eyes.

Only when his throat began to whistle did Dafu belatedly clutch his bleeding neck. He gaped, unable to breathe.

He stared at Zhao An in disbelief, then at the blood dripping from the blade in Zhao An's hand.

"Too much wind-up. All flash, no substance." Zhao An sheathed his blade—and claimed another Soul Slave!

With two men down, even Xu Donglai was beginning to lose his composure.

If the rules hadn't been inviolable, even he, as gang leader, would have wanted to step into the ring himself, whatever the cost to his dignity.

He turned to Zhou Hu, who sat nearby, utterly unruffled, and shot him a hostile look.

He was beginning to suspect that Zhou Hu had set this whole thing up as a trap, just waiting for him to walk right into it.

"If you don't want to continue, Gang Leader Xu, we can end things here for today," Zhou Hu said lightly, taking a sip of tea.

Xu Donglai fell silent for a moment, wavering inwardly.

Zhao An had been playing the fool while hiding his strength, and Xu Donglai couldn't get a read on him. Sending out another fighter risked another humiliating defeat.

"Dazhuang!" Xu Donglai said coldly.

By now, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Backing out halfway would be just as humiliating.

Unlike the first two, Dazhuang didn't underestimate Zhao An. His expression was grave.

Zhao An had cut down two men, each almost in a single exchange. Everyone knew he was a tough opponent; luck had nothing to do with it.

Even when Xu Donglai called his name, Dazhuang hadn't been eager to step forward.

At first, he'd thought this was easy money. Now it looked like he'd have to risk his life.

Dazhuang shouted and threw all his strength into his attack.

He was stronger than the first two, and his movements were faster, too.

He was nimble and, among the Martial Savages who hadn't yet developed Internal Breath, counted as quite a capable fighter.

Zhao An raised his blade to meet him. He'd already fought two battles, but both had ended quickly, so he hadn't lost much strength.

Clang!

Their blades crashed together, the sharp ring of steel echoing throughout the hall.

Neither man gained the upper hand from the first strike. They followed with a second, then a third.

They hacked and thrust, every move lethal. One moment's carelessness could mean death.

Dazhuang was genuinely formidable. The other Tiger Head Gang leaders present admitted to themselves that none of them could be certain of beating him.

Yet Dazhuang was the one drenched in sweat.

After just a few exchanges, he began to fall behind. With every moment, he had less room to strike back.

Zhao An's blade work was clearly more refined, and after cutting down two men, he carried even more momentum.

He cycled through the moves of the Black Tiger Blade Technique, leaving Dazhuang struggling to keep up. One slip was all it took for wounds to open across his chest, shoulders, and arms.

The more Dazhuang panicked, the weaker he became. After a dozen more exchanges, he was the first to run out of strength, and Zhao An struck him across the face.

The blade sank into his facial bones. Dazhuang collapsed, twitching as blood poured from his wound. There was no chance he would survive.

The entire hall fell silent. Everyone knew that Zhao An had passed the Three Trials.

After today, Zhao An's name would surely spread far and wide!