Killing Bandits Like Pigs and Dogs

That day.

Everything in Solitary Gu Hall was as ordinary as ever.

The novice disciples practiced as usual. Senior Sister Yu'er smiled as she applied medicine to them as usual. Hall Master Du drank tea and burned incense as usual. Fang Shu, too, chatted with Li Hou'er and ate steamed buns as usual.

When the night had grown still and quiet, he rose alone and left the communal sleeping platform.

His roommates had long since ceased to find this strange. They merely assumed he had gone off to diligently train again, wasting his strength.

But Fang Shu went straight ahead. He did not head to the training hall, nor did he leave through the front gate. Instead, he came to a low wall within Solitary Gu Hall, put on a set of black clothes hidden beside it, and pasted on talismans to conceal his breath and still his steps.

Then he nimbly vaulted over the wall. He first raced deep into the market district, and only after making one or two turns did he abruptly change direction and sprint toward the Paper Workshop.

Only when he was nearly at the Paper Workshop did he take the fox pelt from his robes, give it a light shake, and drape it over himself. Crouching low, he transformed into a gray fox six feet in size.

Rustle! Having taken fox form, his steps became lighter and his movements more ghostly.

Before long, he appeared near Cheng the Jar's paper house.

Fang Shu did not rashly approach. He circled the paper house twice, saw that a lamp still burned inside, and chose to lie silently nearby. He then took a fasting pill from his robes and swallowed it.

The night was already deep, and the Paper Workshop was quiet. Fang Shu had also come beforehand to scout the place.

By all reason, no accident should occur, but he still had to prepare for the possibility of keeping watch all night for nothing. Under such circumstances, he could not allow food, relieving himself, or other such matters to interfere.

"Come, come, eat! Keep eating!"

Faint shouts drifted from the paper house. It seemed Cheng the Jar was not alone.

The two men inside drank wine, their tongues thick as they laughed and talked.

"Just listen to me. I guarantee you, Gui Qi, won't suffer any losses. What backbone could a bunch of lousy Paper Workshop neighbors possibly have to keep resisting to the bitter end?"

"Yes, yes, yes. When the time comes, Master Cheng, you must look after me. I'll definitely support you."

The person who seemed to be Cheng the Jar said with satisfaction, "Good, good, good. You won't be denied your share of the benefits when the time comes. Fine words cannot persuade a ghost bent on dying. If they don't want to move now, then when they're all driven out to become savages, they'll have plenty of tears to shed."

Cheng the Jar seemed to be plotting something with the man called Gui Qi, yet not quite. The two discussed matters amid raucous laughter, as though no one else existed.

Fang Shu was slightly surprised when he heard this, but he did not pay it much mind.

He had only come tonight to kill Cheng the Jar. Everything else was secondary. He could not afford distraction.

So he suppressed the stray thoughts in his heart, quietly adjusted his breathing, and reined in his aura, as though he were merely a stone beside the ditch.

Time passed.

A creak sounded from the paper house, and its paper door opened.

"Master Cheng, take care... Shall we go call my wife over to serve you?"

"Get the hell out of here. I got sick of playing with her ages ago. Bring your daughter over, and I might consider it."

The man called Gui Qi was meek and submissive, not daring to respond. He hurriedly bade farewell and left.

Then the person who seemed to be Cheng the Jar staggered to the edge of the ditch, untied his belt, and shivered as he relieved himself.

The stench of urine and alcohol surged into the air.

Fang Shu lay in the ditch, his eyelids lifting slightly.

He did not strike, nor did he stare intently at Cheng the Jar. He merely swept his peripheral vision over the man in an offhand manner, confirming his identity.

It was not yet the best moment to act.

Fang Shu's greatest advantage on this trip was that he lurked in the dark while his enemy stood exposed in the light. Moreover, he possessed the fox pelt, a forbidden market-district art capable of concealing his body and hiding his form.

After Cheng the Jar finished relieving himself, he shivered again and, without noticing anything, returned to the paper house.

Before long, thunderous snores rose from inside.

Yet Fang Shu still did not make his move.

He continued to wait patiently, suppressing his killing intent.

He waited without moving for most of the night. Only when less than two hours remained before dawn did Fang Shu take several talismans from his robes with his teeth.

He quietly approached, first pasting a sound-dampening talisman on each side of Cheng the Jar's paper house, before its door, and behind it. They could not completely block sound, but they could weaken any disturbance.

Then he held a smoke-transforming talisman between his teeth, quietly stepped forward, and stuffed it into a crack in the Paper Workshop's door.

Crackle. The tiny sound of a candlewick bursting rang out.

Thick smoke immediately rose inside Cheng the Jar's paper house and drifted out through its windows.

At the sight, a flicker of movement finally appeared in Fang Shu's calm eyes.

By this point, he had completed every preparatory measure that could grant him the initiative.

It was only a pity that the smoke-transforming talisman in his hand was merely used outdoors for escape and warning. The smoke it released was neither sleeping smoke nor poisonous smoke. Otherwise, he could have seized an even greater advantage!

Cough, cough, cough!

A burst of coughing immediately sounded from inside the paper house.

Awakened from his sleep, Cheng the Jar cursed in startled uncertainty. "Damn it, who dares set fire to my house? Tired of living?!"

The man still seemed not to take it seriously. Rather than rushing directly out of the paper house, he chose to endure the smoke and rummage through the room for something.

After enduring it for the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, his bloated body finally slammed through the paper-house door, and he came rolling out amid a string of curses.

That was when Fang Shu struck.

He lay in ambush right outside the paper-house door. The instant Cheng the Jar appeared, he shot out the long tongue in his mouth with a hiss.

The Long-Tongue Sword shot straight toward the man's crotch with savage force!

"Who?!" Cheng the Jar suddenly felt a chill descend upon him. Panicking, he twisted his body and barely avoided the vital blow.

Fang Shu's sudden strike was thrown off course. Yet the Long-Tongue Sword was like a whip. Though it failed to sever the man's root of manhood outright, it still sliced into the base of his thigh.

Splat! A miserable scream rang out.

Cheng the Jar collapsed to the ground, his left leg going limp as he screamed hoarsely.

Then, rather than grabbing a weapon, circulating his magic power, and fighting Fang Shu for his life, the first thing this man did was scream:

"Help! There's a thief, an assassin! Hurry and call the constables!!"

Fang Shu truly had not expected this, but rather than panicking, he was delighted.

He flicked the Long-Tongue Sword. With a sweep of the Tongue Sword, he casually slashed the other one of Cheng the Jar's legs as well, cutting deep enough to expose bone.

Now both of Cheng the Jar's legs were crippled, leaving him nowhere to escape.

The man cried out in pain again and finally realized that preserving his life came first.

He hurriedly rummaged through his robes, trying to pull out talismans or pills to stop the bleeding and save himself. But what he drew out were nothing but talisman money and the like.

So he viciously hurled the talisman money at Fang Shu, his voice trembling. "Spare me! Spare me, hero! I'll pay for my life!"

Even now, it seemed this man's bones had been softened by comfort and ease. He still had no intention of fighting for his life, which truly surprised Fang Shu.

Fang Shu had no intention of wasting the opportunity his enemy had given him. He grinned, opening his mouth wide.

Sluurp! Like a hook, the Long-Tongue Sword stabbed viciously toward Cheng the Jar's throat, intending to rip out his windpipe in a single pull and kill him outright.

Clang!

At last, the Long-Tongue Sword, which had never failed him, met an obstacle.

The Tongue Sword struck the man's throat bone or spine, but rather than slicing through his bones, it was blocked.

Blood gurgled from Cheng the Jar's mouth, terror filling his eyes.

He could not speak. At last, he realized that tonight's visitor had not come for money, but directly for his life.

Puh! Cheng the Jar gathered the blood and qi in his mouth and violently spat at Fang Shu.

His blood and qi flew like an arrow, hissing as it struck the ground and bored three or four feet into the earth!

This man truly was a first-tribulation immortal practitioner. The power of such blood and qi could not be underestimated. He had likely cultivated some art involving the lungs, viscera, or exhaled breath.

"Roar...!" Another tiger roar emerged from Cheng the Jar's mouth.

The sound was so thunderous that not only did Fang Shu's movements stall slightly, but even his eardrums faintly bled.

It also turned every sound-dampening talisman Fang Shu had pasted around the area into ashes, thoroughly alarming the entire Paper Workshop.

In an instant.

Creaking sounds, startled cries, panicked voices, children's wails, and the clatter of overturned tables, chairs, basins, and bowls erupted throughout the Paper Workshop.

Every neighbor in the Paper Workshop had been awakened.

Yet after releasing that tiger roar, Cheng the Jar did not seize the chance to pounce on Fang Shu and cause him trouble.

His bones were not soft, but his temperament had long been softened by comfort and ease.

The man chose to turn and flee. Unable to run, he propped himself up with both hands and desperately crawled toward the doors of the other paper houses.

Reaching the first neighboring paper house, he pounded madly on its door, his windpipe wheezing like a broken bellows. "Hah... hah..."

Yet the neighboring paper house did not stir, as though no one was inside.

By then, Fang Shu had shaken free of the tiger roar's effects. A trace of alarm remained on his face, but he did not delay. He immediately withdrew the Long-Tongue Sword, gripped it with fox claws, and continued pouncing after Cheng the Jar.

When Cheng the Jar saw Fang Shu catch up, he gave terrified, hoarse cries and hurriedly abandoned the first neighbor, fleeing toward the second.

Bang, bang, bang!

He continued pounding on the door. Seeing a light ignite within the paper house, he clutched his throat and forced out a difficult cry.

"Old Wan! It's me... Cheng the Jar... save me!"

Snap! The light in the second paper house immediately went out, and it too remained utterly still.

By then, Fang Shu had already caught up. Flicking the Long-Tongue Sword, he thrust it into the man's body.

Splat! Another hole opened in Cheng the Jar's body, blood gushing from it.

The man suddenly spat blood at Fang Shu again and roared, forcing Fang Shu back.

Then he crawled with all his might toward the third paper house. Leaning against its door, he slapped it again and again with a bloody hand.

"Please... please, open the door."

But not only did the third paper house's door remain shut—even its paper-pasted window snapped closed.

Fang Shu stepped forward again, steadied himself, and viciously stabbed the man twice more.

Having lost too much blood, Cheng the Jar could no longer spit blood into arrows or release tiger roars. He turned his head and made a feint at Fang Shu.

Then pleading filled his eyes as he continued crawling toward the fourth house, then the fifth.

Fang Shu now noticed that the Paper Workshop, which had been alarmed moments ago, had strangely fallen silent.

No one came outside. No one went to spread the news.

A smile could not help appearing on his face.

Fang Shu's eyes then darkened. He no longer rushed forward to fight the man, lest the desperate dog leap over the wall.

Like walking a dog, he began forcing Cheng the Jar to crawl forward one zhang, then stepped up and gave him a sword.

"Don't! Don't kill me."

Splat!

"Help, help, I have money..."

Splat.

Fang Shu walked while Cheng the Jar crawled.

Under the pallid moonlight.

The paper houses along one side of the ditch were covered in bloody handprints, across their walls and doors. The ground before their entrances looked as though it had been brushed with red paint, bright scarlet and red.

He crawled all the way to the seventh paper house. Cheng the Jar weakly slapped at its door, his voice as faint as a kitten's.

"Open the door... save me, save..."

To his surprise, the seventh paper house's door actually creaked open a crack.

A young girl's tender voice sounded from behind it. "Who is it?"

Hope for life suddenly burst from Cheng the Jar's eyes, especially when he recognized the seventh house as Gui Qi's home.

Then a startled cry rang out, followed by a sharp rebuke. "Come back, come back here!"

A plump figure rushed forward and covered the little girl's mouth in one swift motion.

The girl who had opened the door for Cheng the Jar whimpered behind that hand as she was dragged forcefully back into the depths of the paper house.

The hope in Cheng the Jar's eyes dimmed.

He knew that rebuking voice well. It belonged to Gui Qi's wife, the woman who had often pleased him beneath his crotch, endlessly fawning over him and calling him "Master Cheng" again and again.

Then, through the crack in the door, Cheng the Jar saw the coward Gui Qi. The man was trembling, disbelief written across his face.

Cheng the Jar looked at Gui Qi and deliberately showed goodwill, hoping Gui Qi would open the door.

Instead, Gui Qi immediately kicked Cheng the Jar in the face through the crack, his leg trembling as he did so.

"Get lost! Get far away from here!"

After kicking him, Gui Qi stomped his feet inside the door. His face was full of terror, as though pleading for something. Then with a snap, he shut the paper door and braced his back firmly against the paper-pasted door.

This time, despair filled Cheng the Jar's eyes.

Yet he still did not want to die. Coughing, he continued struggling to crawl toward the ditch, intending to hide in the water.

But after finally crawling to the ditch's edge, his blood had run dry. His head tilted to one side at last, and he half-lay in the ditch as though drunk unconscious.

Behind him, Fang Shu let out a long breath from a distance away.

He flicked the Long-Tongue Sword and stabbed several more holes into the man's body with a splat.

Even seeing that the man seemed thoroughly dead, Fang Shu was not reassured.

Since the man's bones were hard and his head could not be easily severed for the moment, Fang Shu smashed his eyes and skull to pulp.

Only after doing so did he finally dare to step closer and examine him carefully, feeling around his body.

After checking him once more and confirming he was truly dead, Fang Shu finally relaxed completely.

Then, without hurry, he began methodically cleaning up and destroying the wounds on Cheng the Jar's body.

He also inspected the bloody trail left by the man's crawling inch by inch, overlooking no trace that might expose him.

When he returned to Cheng the Jar's paper house, Fang Shu considered for a moment. He did not enter to loot the place, lest he fall into a trap.

Crack!

Fang Shu lit a fire-starting talisman and boldly threw it into Cheng the Jar's paper house.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! The paper house immediately caught fire. Like a chimney, flames surged up and burned fiercely.

Only then, as Fang Shu watched the flames, did he silently mouth the words:

"Good death."

Crackle, pop! Explosive sounds rang out from within the house. Some mechanism or talismans seemed to have caught fire, but Fang Shu was already standing far away and could not be affected.

He stood upright in his fox form, silently watching the paper house burn. Only after making sure the fire would not die out anytime soon did he bend down and slip into the darkness.

The blaze raged, while the Paper Workshop remained quiet.

Until daybreak, not a single person emerged. Everyone seemed to be sleeping deeply.

Only by the ditch—

Cheng the Jar lay there like a dead dog, eyes wide open, sprawled motionless.

The water in the ditch flowed on without cease. The bloody water had long since been washed clean, leaving not a trace of red behind. It would not delay anyone's morning washing, cooking smoke, or meals.