Calculations

Over the past days, Chen Cheng repeatedly weighed, pondered, and broke down every possible method he could imagine. In the dead of night, he even tried them himself, working through the deductions.

The process was like feeling through absolute darkness, relying only on a faint echo to explore the outline and texture of some indescribable thing.

At first, he had not held much hope.

Until three days ago, when inspiration suddenly struck, and he truly managed to feel out a few clues.

He used the outwardly slow, Perfect Harmony form of Health-Preserving Taiji as the framework, then circulated and stored force according to its inner truth: "Perfect Harmony without end, life begetting life without cease."

He guided Blood Qi and the strength of his physique away from the established path of Crouching Dragon Fist, transforming them instead into tides layered upon layer, wrapping inward and constantly compacting.

The force continued its perfectly harmonious circulation and compression, condensing into a sphere, then from a sphere into a point.

Released in an instant, it could erupt with a force similar to, yet far stronger than, the Crouching Force of Crouching Dragon Fist.

Coupled with the Armor Piercing trait.

In the end, whether in the process of channeling and exerting force, the nature of that force itself, or the destructive results it caused, it was worlds apart from Crouching Dragon Fist.

And this was Chen Cheng's deeper, more deceptive calculation.

No matter who investigated afterward, there was no chance they would trace it back to him. Instead, they would very likely be led around by the nose by his scheme, thoroughly muddying the waters.

The next day, dawn had only just begun to break.

Zhao Chuan personally went to the small courtyard where Scar Bear lived.

At that moment, Scar Bear lay sprawled on the bed like a heap of mud, his face deathly pale, his eye sockets deeply sunken, his mouth hanging half open. He exhaled more than he inhaled.

Zhao Chuan walked over and reached out to lift the thin quilt haphazardly covering Scar Bear.

The sight of the injuries made Zhao Chuan's pupils contract almost imperceptibly.

Scar Bear's chest had caved in across a large area. His flesh had turned entirely bluish-purple, countless blood vessels and veins spreading outward like a spiderweb. Beneath his skin were densely packed sharp protrusions—shattered ribs that looked ready to burst out at any moment.

"What exactly happened last night?" Zhao Chuan demanded in a low voice.

Obvious terror welled up in Scar Bear's cloudy eyes. His throat weakly drew in breath, mixed with pained whimpers, as he haltingly recounted what had happened.

After hearing him out, the muscles in Zhao Chuan's face gradually tightened, his gaze dark enough to chill the blood.

"You're sure it was Red Moon Nunnery's... Cloth-Wrapped Puppet?"

"I... I'm sure."

Scar Bear was barely hanging on, but his mind had not yet turned muddled.

"I wasn't the only one who saw it last night... Besides, th-that strange force... I took a hit from it myself..."

"...Could Chen Cheng be behind this?"

Zhao Chuan clenched his back teeth hard, the muscles in his cheeks standing out.

"Probably not... The two Constable Chiefs, Wu and Liu, only came looking for me on a whim last night... Chen Cheng isn't some immortal. How could he have known in advance?"

Scar Bear shrank his neck, his voice weak and hollow.

"Besides, he couldn't have learned the Cloth-Wrapped Puppet's methods, could he?"

"...Then it really was Red Moon Nunnery."

Zhao Chuan's expression changed slightly. As though all the air had gone out of him, he irritably waved a hand.

"Enough. This is no longer something I can handle. I'll report it truthfully and let the Constable Chief decide. Keep your mouth shut! Not half a word about the stupid things you did is to leak out!"

"Understood... Chief Zhao, don't worry. My mouth... is sealed tight..."

After catching his breath, Scar Bear cautiously said,

"Chief Zhao... To get things done last night, the two Constable Chiefs took twenty-three taels of cash from me... Th-that was my entire fortune... What about that...?"

"What the fuck does that have to do with me?!"

Zhao Chuan abruptly glared at him, his eyes filled with contempt.

"You idiots made your own decisions and caused this rotten mess. Someone died, things were lost, and you still want compensation? You're lucky I'm not making you pay with your life!"

Scar Bear choked on his words, his face turning ghastly white as he pleaded miserably.

"Master Zhao... P-please have some pity on me... Without money to see a doctor... this life of mine... you..."

Zhao Chuan turned a deaf ear and left at once, as though remaining in this filthy place another moment would bring him bad luck.

Scar Bear had wanted to curse loudly, but his anger pulled at his wounds. He immediately broke into violent coughing and wheezing, coughing until his features twisted and blood seeped from his nose and mouth. Yet no one paid him any heed.

The money was gone, and he was ruined as well.

Even the lackeys who had once run before and after him, bowing and scraping, now kept far away. Not even a ghostly shadow could be seen.

Some time later.

Several figures, thin as sheets of paper, slipped one after another into the small courtyard.

They were all women.

None of them were old. Their complexions were waxen yellow, their eyes hollow. Their faces, necks, and exposed wrists were covered in overlapping old and new bruises, even bite marks and scratches crusted with blood.

They did not speak to one another. There was only a numb tacit understanding cold enough to break the heart.

Before long, Scar Bear's miserable howls erupted from inside, no longer sounding human.

A moment later, the women dragged Scar Bear's corpse out as though hauling a dead pig or dog, dragging it inch by inch toward the depths of the alley.

Who knew whether they ultimately sent it to the Human Meat Shop or Red Moon Nunnery?

In the end, no one asked.

At noon, the Outer Hall dining hall buzzed with voices.

Xiao Yi sat among several Black Badge disciples from wealthy families, animatedly recounting how Master Ye had made an exception yesterday and admitted him into the Inner Hall. His spittle was flying into the dishes.

As the conversation grew lively, no one knew who started it, but they simply abandoned their barely touched meals and headed straight for a restaurant outside the Martial Hall.

The surrounding disciples watching the scene all revealed looks of envy.

At a window-side corner some distance away, Qian Baolu ate while coldly glancing in that direction.

"Junior Brother Chen, I wasn't talking nonsense, was I? That bastard Xiao Yi is an ungrateful white-eyed wolf who turns his face and refuses to recognize anyone!"

Qian Baolu slapped down his chopsticks, filled with righteous indignation.

"Those few who used to call him brother, who came from the same miserable background as him, don't even have the right to follow behind his ass and catch a whiff anymore!"

"The ones around him now are either from wealthy Outer City households, or their fathers hold minor posts at the yamen. Not one of them is diligent in martial arts, but when it comes to cultivating connections, every last one of them is keen as can be."

Chen Cheng did not respond. Yet when his gaze swept across that side, another figure held it for a moment.

It was Lin Fengxiao.

His face was yellow as wax paper, dark circles heavy beneath his eyes, and his cracked lips were covered in crimson splits.

He walked straight over, sat in the spot Xiao Yi had just occupied, gathered all the leftovers from those several people before himself, lowered his head, and began eating in huge mouthfuls.

The looks cast his way held contempt, surprise, and fleeting sympathy.

He did not care in the slightest. He even tossed aside his chopsticks and began grabbing and shoveling food with both hands to eat faster.

"...What kind of world is this, to force good people into such a state?"

Qian Baolu picked up his bowl, greeted Chen Cheng, then walked toward Lin Fengxiao.

Chen Cheng had long grown accustomed to Qian Baolu's absurdly powerful compulsion to socialize. Silently, he called over a White Badge disciple and ordered himself two more portions of Venison Medicinal Meal.

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