The Lamb

The passage was narrow and deep, so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. It was clearly midday, yet not a ray of sunlight could penetrate it, and the place felt chilling and sinister.

Even Chen Zhuo's steadily improving eyesight could make out nothing but darkness when he looked into the passage.

"Do I go in or not?"

It wasn't that he was afraid.

A gentleman did not stand beneath a dangerous wall.

To risk his life simply out of curiosity would be the height of folly.

Chen Zhuo gave a cold laugh. He hesitated for only a moment before heading straight into the passage. As he went, he pulled the wooden boards back into place behind him.

He truly wanted to see what gave Zhou Sheng the nerve—and what he had backing him—to dare violate the Blade-Catchers' taboo.

This place was so heavily guarded that it might well have something to do with Zhou Sheng having changed his blood to Demon Blood.

"A half-demon from some unorthodox path."

Chen Zhuo's eyes grew colder. One hand rested on the hilt at his waist, his body slightly bent as he slowly made his way forward, following the route he remembered.

He had now entered the Bone-Entering Realm of Body Refining, and his control over his body was almost impossibly precise.

By consciously keeping his movements in check, he moved softly as a cat, making barely a sound.

As he walked through the passage, Chen Zhuo noticed other footprints beneath his feet, pressed to varying depths.

Perhaps because so much time had passed, all the footprints were covered with a layer of dust.

He also noticed crooked doodles on the passage walls, seemingly drawn by children.

The traces of people having lived here proved that this place had not always been like this. Someone had altered it.

Chen Zhuo's guess had been right. Given the state of this shantytown, it must once have had crisscrossing alleys to make it easier to get around.

Nothing like this narrow passage, which led only to the interior.

Before long, a faint light appeared ahead.

After being surrounded by darkness for so long, he had finally reached the light. He should have been glad, but Chen Zhuo's heart tightened instead.

He was drawing closer to Zhou Sheng's location.

Faintly, he seemed to hear waves of crying, mixed with scolding.

It was still some distance away, though, and he couldn't make out the sounds clearly.

He moved even more softly.

Soon, a glimmer of light appeared ahead.

He was almost out of the darkness, almost at the end of the passage.

But then a tall stone wall rose before him, blocking his way.

"How could there be a stone wall in a shantytown?"

Chen Zhuo frowned slightly.

But it wasn't enough to stop him. He pressed down with his feet, and his whole body sprang into the air.

He reached out and caught the top of the wall, his hand gripping it firmly.

A layer of wooden boards covered the stone wall. Chen Zhuo wrenched at them and tore a large hole straight through.

Daylight fell over him again.

Chen Zhuo poked his head through the hole and swept his gaze inside. To his surprise, a compound lay hidden within.

Three rooms stood in a row at the back, with two more on either side.

The compound wasn't large, but it had all been built from stone. In this shantytown, it was practically a fortress.

Seven or eight burly men in gray robes and gray face coverings were patrolling inside. From their builds, every one of them was clearly trained in martial arts.

"Who would have the means to build something like this?"

Chen Zhuo was shocked, but still decided to investigate. Taking advantage of a gap in the gray-robed men's patrol, he seized his chance and climbed down from the stone wall.

Keeping low, he found a room and slipped inside without a sound.

The moment he entered, Chen Zhuo nearly lost control and instinctively began to draw his long saber.

He had drawn it halfway when he saw what was inside and slid it back into its sheath.

In the cramped room, about twenty women sat on the floor, their clothes and hair disheveled. Every one of them was staring at him.

All the women had unkempt hair and tattered clothes, their faces smeared with filth. It was impossible to tell their exact ages.

But judging by their builds alone, several of them couldn't have been much older than children at a school for young pupils.

Chen Zhuo frowned slightly. An indescribable stench hit him, as foul as meat left to rot for three days.

He parted his lips to speak, but the women turned their heads away one after another.

He noticed at once that their exposed arms and legs were covered in scars.

"How did you end up being brought here?"

Chen Zhuo asked.

But no answer came.

No one paid him any attention. Not a single one even stirred.

Their numb faces held eyes stripped of all light.

Dull, bewildered, vacant...

As Chen Zhuo watched them, a thought suddenly came to him: these women were no longer human.

They looked like lambs penned into a tiny space, waiting to be slaughtered.

Looking at them, Chen Zhuo felt a heavy weight settle inside him, as if a great iron weight had been laid across his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He suddenly understood something, and his chest grew even tighter.

Chen Zhuo turned away, expressionless, and quietly crouched in a corner, waiting.

Soon, a Grey-Robed Man opened the door and entered, glaring as he inspected the room.

Chen Zhuo seized his chance and sprang up, curling his fingers around the man's throat.

Crack.

The Grey-Robed Man didn't even manage to shout before he crumpled helplessly to the ground, lifeless.

Chen Zhuo stripped off his own clothes and sword, then calmly changed into the gray robe and put on the gray face covering. He gave the women one last, deep look before turning and opening the door.

"Anything unusual?"

As soon as Chen Zhuo stepped outside, a Grey-Robed Man came over to ask.

He shook his head without a word.

The Grey-Robed Man didn't notice anything amiss. He waved a hand casually. "Check the next room. Be thorough."

Chen Zhuo nodded in acknowledgment, went straight to the room next door, and shoved the door open.

The scene inside was much the same as in the previous room, but Chen Zhuo's eyelids still twitched violently.

The moment he entered, the women all shrank back at least three steps, even though none of them screamed.

Unlike the women in the previous room, these women weren't numb and indifferent to his presence. Some instinctive fear still lingered in them.

But fear was all that remained.

Chen Zhuo looked closely and saw that their arms and legs were scarred too. The wounds looked like cuts from a knife, one after another.

Chen Zhuo took a deep breath. At the Grey-Robed Man's impatient urging from outside, he turned and walked out.

"There's a third room."

Chen Zhuo panted, struggling to keep his trembling hands steady as he slowly pushed open the door to the third room.

There were more women in this room than in the first two, and they seemed more animated.

The instant Chen Zhuo entered, everyone scrambled back. Thirty-four people huddled together in a corner.

"Don't hit me anymore! Don't hit me anymore! I'll be good..."

"Ah!! Don't come near me, don't come near!"

"Father, Mother, your daughter will behave. Please don't abandon me. Where are you...?"

The women seemed to be on the verge of breaking down—or had already broken down—the moment Chen Zhuo entered.

Their cries merged into one, impossible to tell apart.

They had not yet grown numb to their fate.

Chen Zhuo's gaze fell once more on the women's arms and legs.

Their scars were noticeably fewer than those on the women in the other two rooms, and much fresher.

Some wounds hadn't even been treated and were already oozing pus.

"Quiet."

The Grey-Robed Man outside couldn't stand the noise. He barged in, brandished a sharp dagger, and shouted, "Cry again and I'll drag every last one of you out and bleed you dry!"

At the sight of the dagger in his hand, all the women stopped crying in terror.

The very air fell silent.

"Heh... what a bunch of beasts."

The Grey-Robed Man seemed to take a strange satisfaction in their fear. In high spirits, he even twirled the dagger in a little flourish.

"Pockmark, was that move slick or what?"

The Grey-Robed Man grinned smugly.

"Slick."

Chen Zhuo narrowed his eyes slightly.

In the next instant, while the Grey-Robed Man was off guard, he snatched the dagger and plunged it deep into his chest.

Gripping the dagger, he lowered his voice and said, "You're slick enough to die for."