Sword Like Cold Stars, the Judge Claims Lives

Stars glittered overhead, and the moon hung like a hook.

West of Luoyang, within that run-down communal courtyard.

The courtyard walls were mottled and peeling, the houses low and cramped, and the air reeked of rot and blood.

In a slightly larger main hall at the very back, the lamplight was dim. A burly man with a face full of flesh and a savage scar sat imposingly at the head of the room. He gripped a long rawhide whip, its tip dragging across the floor, stained with blood.

Several broad-shouldered, thick-waisted men stood on either side of him, each wearing a vicious expression as they stared malevolently at the three people kneeling in the hall.

No, not all three of them were kneeling.

One of the youths had nothing below his knees, his trouser legs tied in knots. He could only sit on the ground with his legs splayed.

These three youths were the two boys and one girl Zhu Yingxiong had seen on the street that day.

Though the skinny youth with the oversized head was kneeling, he held his back stubbornly straight and glared furiously at the scar-faced man. His eyes were like those of a wounded wild wolf—fierce and unyielding.

The one-armed girl knelt at his side, her remaining hand clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, yet she did not make a sound.

The scar-faced man spoke, his voice hoarse and cold:

"Have I been too lenient with you lot? You even dare break my rules."

He slowly rose to his feet, then snapped the long whip in his hand—

Crack!

The whip lashed across the skinny youth like a venomous snake. His clothes split open, flesh peeled back, and blood spattered. Yet he gritted his teeth and remained silent.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The scar-faced man grew even more enraged when he saw the defiance in the youth's eyes.

The whip fell like rain upon all three of them.

The one-armed girl shielded the legless youth with her frail body.

The whip struck her back, shoulders, and arm without mercy, tearing open her flesh as blood seeped out.

Yet she, too, refused to make a sound.

And so the scar-faced man's rain-like lashes came faster still.

The girl's clothes were whipped into tatters, leaving great swaths of skin exposed.

Her body was still thin from malnutrition, with prominent shoulder blades and defined collarbones, yet the delicate curves unique to a young girl had begun to show faintly.

Amid the crisscrossing bloody welts, the outlines of a body not yet fully developed could vaguely be seen, its youthful immaturity painfully conspicuous.

The whip suddenly stopped.

The scar-faced man's Adam's apple bobbed, and a lecherous gleam flashed through his eyes.

He stepped forward, grabbed the girl by the chin, turned her face toward him, and examined her closely.

"Tsk, tsk. You've filled out nicely."

He grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"Today, you'll serve me first."

Without another word, he hoisted the one-armed girl over his shoulder.

The girl had endured until now, but at last she began to struggle, crying hoarsely:

"Let me go! Let me go!"

She pounded his back with her one remaining hand, but it was like scratching an itch.

"Let her go!"

The legless youth suddenly lunged forward and clutched the scar-faced man's ankle with both hands.

The scar-faced man looked down at him, impatience filling his eyes. He raised a foot and kicked him viciously in the chest—

Bang!

The legless youth gave a muffled groan and was sent rolling away. Blood spilled from his mouth, and he lay sprawled on the ground, unable to rise for the moment.

With the struggling girl slung over his shoulder, the scar-faced man grinned at the five men in the hall.

"Once I'm done enjoying myself, you lot can take turns."

Lewd smiles appeared on the five men's faces as they answered in unison:

"Thank you, Hall Master!"

The words had barely fallen—

When the scar-faced man suddenly felt a chill at his waist. Battle-hardened, he instinctively leaped back.

Sshk—

Blood sprayed!

A wound had been cut across his waist, blood gushing steadily from it.

The scar-faced man looked down and saw that it was the skinny youth with the unusually large head!

The youth's face was covered in blood, yet his expression was blank. Only his eyes burned with bone-deep hatred.

He clutched a sharpened iron shard, its surface covered in blood.

Having missed the vital spot, he charged again without a word, driving the iron shard straight at the scar-faced man's chest!

"Courting death!"

The scar-faced man flew into a rage and kicked the youth brutally in the chest—

Bang!

The youth's scrawny body flew back like a rag sack, slamming heavily into the wall before sliding to the ground. He spat out a mouthful of blood, but still braced himself with both hands and struggled shakily to rise once more!

The two men nearby had finally reacted. They strode forward and pinned the youth to the ground. One of them snatched away the bloodstained iron shard in his hand.

The scar-faced man threw the girl from his shoulder to the floor, clutching the wound at his waist and grimacing in pain.

He looked down at the blood covering his hand. The vicious light in his eyes surged, and the scar on his face flushed red.

"You little bastard, I'll skin you alive today!"

He snatched the saber from the waist of a nearby man, its blade gleaming with biting cold.

Saber in hand, he walked step by step toward the youth pinned to the ground.

The youth was held down firmly, but he still struggled to lift his head, staring fixedly at the approaching figure. There was no fear in his eyes, only hatred to the bone.

"You little bastard," the scar-faced man sneered, pointing the tip of his saber at the youth's eyes, "I'll gouge out those eyes of yours first."

Before he could finish—

Several of his underlings suddenly stared straight behind him as though they had seen a ghost, their eyes nearly popping from their sockets.

"B-behind you!" one of the men cried out, his voice cracking.

A chill gripped the scar-faced man's heart. Without time to think, he swung his saber in a sweeping strike behind him!

But he struck nothing.

Behind him was empty, save for the flickering candlelight.

Yet in the next instant, a face abruptly appeared before him.

A red face, a black beard, thick brows dark as ink, and a blood-red vertical mark on the forehead.

Beneath the mask lay a pair of icy eyes, looking down at him from above.

It was as though a Judge from the underworld had silently appeared in the realm of the living to claim his life.

The scar-faced man's pupils shrank sharply to pinpoints as an icy chill surged from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.

Before he could react at all—

A flash of cold light swept past.

He felt a chill before his eyes, followed by piercing agony in both of them!

Warm liquid ran down from his eye sockets. His vision turned blood-red, and he could see nothing.

"Ah—!"

He covered his eyes with both hands. His scream had barely left his throat before it cut off abruptly.

Blood spattered, and half his tongue fell to the ground, still twitching faintly.

The youth pinned to the floor stared wide-eyed at the scene before him.

From the appearance of that Judge mask to the Hall Master's eyes being pierced and tongue sliced off, only an instant had passed.

Only now did the five men finally snap out of their stupor!

"Kill him!"

Someone shrieked, and all five grabbed their weapons and hacked viciously at the masked figure at once!

Blades and clubs came crashing down together—

Then, suddenly, specks of cold starlight appeared.

Fine as rain, cold as frost, they filled the five men's vision.

The five men felt a chill at their wrists.

Clang!

All five weapons flew from their hands and struck the ground almost simultaneously.

They looked down to see a thin line of blood on each of their wrists, though none knew when it had appeared. The line was as fine as the stroke of a woman's eyebrow pencil, and beads of blood slowly seeped from it, one drop, then two, falling to the ground.

Before they could even feel the pain—

Their throats went cold as well.

They raised their heads and looked at one another, seeing the same thin bloody line across each other's throats, along with faces twisted in terror and drained of all color.

"Hhk... hhk..."

They wanted to shout, to scream, to beg for mercy, but only strange, wheezing sounds emerged from their throats, like broken bellows. They clutched their throats desperately with both hands, but blood gushed through their fingers, warm and slick, impossible to stop.

Their bodies swayed—

Then they fell one after another with heavy thuds.

Meanwhile, the scar-faced man, still howling in agony, flailed his hands wildly before him like a headless fly.

Before he had recovered from the agony of blindness, a sudden pain tore through his knees, and he crashed to the ground on them.

At that moment, the three youths in the hall stared wide-eyed.

From the appearance of the Judge mask to the fall of the five men and the Hall Master collapsing to his knees, only a few short breaths had passed.

Six twitching bodies lay scattered across the ground, blood winding between them and glinting dark red beneath the dim candlelight.

The masked figure stood quietly in the center of the pool of blood, holding a thin, slender sword. Not a single drop of blood stained his robes.

(Thanks to Song Yiyi for the monthly ticket and reward. Thanks to all the readers for your support! Thank you!)