Triple Kill

Chen Mo had walked no more than a hundred paces from the Rain-Listening Pavilion when he sensed a tail behind him.

It was the three men from the group led by the stocky man.

They trailed him from a distance, using the shadows and the occasional passerby for cover, their eyes fixed on Chen Mo's back.

"Big brother, we're following him so closely... won't we stand out?"

The tall, lanky man on the stocky man's left lowered his voice, a hint of unease in his tone. "That guy just came out of the Rain-Listening Pavilion, and Hu San was polite to him. We—"

"Afraid of what?" the scar-faced man spat, glaring viciously at the lanky man. His voice was hushed, but edged with menace.

"So what if it's the Rain-Listening Pavilion? So what if it's Hu San? No matter how powerful they are, the rules only forbid fighting inside the Ghost Market. Once we're outside, who gives a damn who he is?"

"What's that kid carrying? A bank draft for ten thousand silver dollars from selling jade slip fragments! At least five or six Red Sun Blood Crystals! Just think how much that's worth!"

The companion on the right, who carried a saber, licked his cracked lips. Greed and worry flickered in his eyes. "You're right, big brother, but Green Wolf and Ghost Eye and the others all gave up. This fat sheep might be too tough to handle."

"Tough, my ass!"

The stocky man cut him off, his tone impatient with their cowardice. "The bold get rich; the timid starve! Fifth, have you forgotten why we came to the Ghost Market? How much more do I need for my mother's medicine? And how many more silver dollars does your sweetheart need to buy back her freedom? And there's Third."

He looked at the lanky man. "Your brother's gambling debts—if he doesn't pay them soon, they'll break one of his arms! How long will it take us to scrape together enough by peddling fakes and doing odd jobs like stealing chickens and dogs?"

His words were like a splash of cold water to the two men, kindling their resolve to take a desperate gamble.

The lanky man and the short companion fell silent. The hesitation in their eyes gave way to deeper greed.

"See?" the scar-faced man said, indicating Chen Mo's slightly frail figure ahead. "The kid's clearly young, and he's not strong. Once we're out of the Ghost Market, we'll catch him somewhere deserted in the Mass Grave Mound. We'll surround him and finish it fast!"

"Once we've taken his stuff, we split up and run. Lay low for a while, and who the hell will know it was us?"

He paused, a vicious glint in his eyes. "Even if the Rain-Listening Pavilion finds out afterward, would they really launch a major investigation over one dead man and come after nobodies like us?"

"As long as we leave no traces, cash the draft and split up the treasures, we'll be free as birds! The medicine money, the ransom, the gambling debts—all taken care of! And we'll still have plenty left to enjoy ourselves!"

"Big brother's right!" The short man's breathing grew ragged.

The lanky man nodded vigorously too, gripping the short dagger inside his sleeve. His last reservations were utterly crushed beneath his hunger for wealth.

Ahead, Chen Mo kept walking, heading straight for the desolate exit in the southeastern corner of the Ghost Market.

As he stepped through a crumbling stone archway, the Ghost Market's glow receded like a tide.

Before him stretched a barren expanse of hills and grave mounds. The moonlight was dark red, casting eerie, indistinct shadows from the crooked tombstones and dead trees.

The night wind wailed, sweeping up the ashes of paper offerings and dried grass.

Chen Mo didn't pause for a moment. He strode deeper into the Mass Grave Mound, his figure appearing and vanishing between the tombstones and dead trees.

"He went into the Mass Grave Mound! Quick, stay close. Don't let him get away!"

The stocky man's hushed voice came from behind, and the three hurried after him.

The terrain inside the Mass Grave Mound was complicated. The rolling burial mounds and crooked trees broke the moonlight into scattered patches, casting vast swaths of shadow.

Chen Mo took a winding path to a relatively open hollow. A few old graves, half-collapsed, lay scattered there, their overgrown grass reaching nearly to a person's waist.

The three men rushed in after him, but Chen Mo was nowhere to be seen. Only the grass swayed in the dark red moonlight, rustling softly.

"Where is he?" The stocky man's heart tightened. He stopped abruptly and warily scanned his surroundings.

Almost at the same time, the situation suddenly changed!

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

Several faint sounds of sharp objects breaking through the earth erupted all at once from the overgrown graves beside them!

In the moonlight, four humanoid shadows shot out at crooked angles like venomous snakes controlled by an invisible hand!

They were Weaponized Paper Puppets Chen Mo had planted in advance. To be safe, he had sent out four of them at once!

"Look out—"

The stocky man had barely managed to shout half a warning when a sharp pain shot through his calf. A shadow of paper flashed past, leaving a streak of blood in its wake.

He staggered and swung his saber at his side, but struck nothing.

Screams erupted almost simultaneously.

A Paper Puppet skimmed low across the ground and sliced through the lanky man's neck. He clutched his throat with both hands as blood gushed between his fingers.

The short man fared even worse. Two Paper Puppets crossed paths as they slashed through his chest and abdomen from either side. Eyes wide, he looked down at his nearly split-open body, then crumpled to the ground.

The Weaponized Paper Puppets attacked with speed, brutality, and precision. There was no flourish to their movements, only deadly strikes.

Using the shadows and tall grass for cover, they had badly wounded all three men in their first ambush.

"It's an ambush! Run!" The stocky man was beside himself with terror. He tried to turn and flee despite the pain.

Two paper figures shot after him, instantly blocking his escape route.

A bone-chilling cold shot from the stocky man's feet to the crown of his head. It wasn't the night wind that chilled him, but the despair of death drawing near, freezing even his marrow.

Blood gushed from the wound in his leg. Four paper figures stood motionless in the shadow of the swaying grass, sealing off his way out.

Dark red moonlight washed over their slender bodies. They had no faces and drew no breath. The blades in their hands were shaped from paper, yet gleamed with the cold sheen of real metal, cutting off his escape to either side.

"Ugh! I'll fight you to the death!"

Clutching his saber with both hands, the stocky man gave up trying to flee and went berserk, hacking at the Paper Puppet on his right!

The wind howled around the blade—a trapped beast's final fury.

The Paper Puppet bent lightly in a way that defied reason. Its thin body drifted back half a foot with the saber's momentum, barely avoiding the edge.

At the same time, a chill struck from the left!

The hairs on his body stood on end. Relying on years of instinct honed at the edge of a blade, he twisted around to parry.

"Clang!"

The saber clashed with the paper blade, ringing like metal on metal and numbing his palm.

But the Paper Puppet didn't resist the force at all. It withdrew after one strike, like a ghost.

"Come out! Show yourself!"

His voice warped with fear and blood loss as he roared, waving his steel saber at the empty graveyard. "What kind of hero hides in the shadows? Come out!"

Chen Mo slowly emerged from the shadow directly in front of him, his expression calm, as if he had merely been strolling beneath the moon and happened upon the scene.

He wasn't even holding a weapon. He simply watched in silence.

That composure broke the stocky man more than any cruel grin could have.

"I... I'll fight you to the death!" Dragging his wounded leg, he howled and charged at Chen Mo, paying no heed to the icy killing intent behind him.

All he wanted was to drive his saber into the seemingly unruffled young man before he died.

But he had taken only two steps.

A shadow of paper flashed in like a gust of wind skimming the ground, cutting in from his blind spot. A chill brushed his neck.

The stocky man's charge came to an abrupt halt. As warm liquid suddenly burst from his throat, the strength drained rapidly from his body.

His steel saber clattered from his hand and fell among the rocks in front of the grave.

He futilely clutched at his neck, the blood quickly staining the spaces between his fingers.

His vision began to blur. The dark red moon, the swaying grass, Chen Mo silently approaching, and his elderly mother waiting at home for him to buy her medicine... everything became a twisted patchwork of dark red.

At last, he sank to his knees, his eyes still wide open, reflecting that ominous dark red moon.

Chen Mo didn't even spare the three bodies on the ground a glance. He simply raised a hand and beckoned.

The bloodstained Weaponized Paper Puppets flew back into his hands one after another.

Without the slightest hesitation or any interest in searching the bodies for loot, he darted toward the deeper reaches of the Mass Grave Mound and disappeared behind the rows of grave mounds and dead trees after a few leaps.