Butcher in a Turbulent Age, Killing Livestock Brings Joy

A Butcher in a Muddy World, Killing Beasts Brings Joy

Everlasting Prosperity Town, northern Great Yue.

Snow had fallen just last night, and few pedestrians dotted the morning street.

Chen Mu braved the chilly wind to catch the early market, setting up his meat stall on West Street.

He was a butcher.

Having transmigrated here for nearly half a year, Chen Mu had already adapted to this lowly trade.

Slaughtering livestock, chopping meat, and cleaning offal, his body always reeked of blood, earning him disgust wherever he went.

Yet this was not necessarily a bad thing.

Now, the border had suffered consecutive years of defeat, the dynasty was in turmoil, bandits were ubiquitous outside the city, local bullies ran rampant within, and demons occasionally wreaked havoc, leaving ordinary people with almost no path to survival, where even eating a full meal became an extravagant hope.

Though butchers were cast among the lowest strata, it was at least a trade that could keep one alive.

Just like right now, Chen Mu had barely set up his meat stall when he welcomed a wave of early morning customers, numbering about seven or eight.

A scrawny ruffian walked at the front, chewing on a straw pick, shrinking inside a sheepskin jacket, and greeting him with a cheeky smile:

"Chen the Butcher, that mutton hind leg looks not bad. Cut two catties for me, lean meat."

"Put it on the tab."

Chen Mu recognized this person.

Huang Silang, a genuine vicious customer.

Right then he could not be bothered to respond, and with two heavy thuds he chopped off a piece of meat, tossing it onto the chopping board along with the connective tissue.

"Ten cash, no credit!"

Hearing his cold tone, Huang Silang's hand, reaching out to grab the meat, froze mid-air.

"Ten cash? Heh, starting to guard your food now, are you?"

"Could it be you've forgotten how many eyes Lord Ma has?"

He tilted his head to spit out a glob of phlegm, lifted a foot to step onto the meat counter, and threatened in a low voice: "Today I am taking this meat regardless. Do you dare refuse?"

The surrounding townspeople changed expression at this sight and hurriedly backed away.

Chen Mu knew what they were afraid of.

Huang Silang was merely a parasite, accustomed to eating and taking things for free by relying on connections with the local bullies.

In the past, Chen Mu would have simply endured it.

Yet for the past half-month, snow had fallen continuously, and this fellow still came every single day to freeload.

Chen Mu could not be bothered to show him a pleasant face anymore and shoved his knife directly straight into the chopping board.

"Either pay up or get lost, pick your poison!"

The force behind this movement was considerable, the blade-tip burying itself deeply into the board, which, matched with his stalwart physique, exuded a thoroughly murderous aura.

Huang Silang shrank back for a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing instantly as he sized Chen Mu up for a long moment, ultimately not daring to flip out on the spot.

"Fine, Chen the Butcher, you've got a spine!"

He thrust his yellow teeth close to Chen Mu's face, saying sinisterly, "You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeiture, so let's wait and see."

"I remember you still have a sickly little wife at home, right? Master Ma happens to be short a foot-washing maid—tsk, what a pity..."

Hearing his ill-intentioned, cunning laugh, Chen Mu's gaze turned chillingly cold, instinctively gripping the hilt of his knife.

Yet it was broad daylight, so he forcibly suppressed the murderous intent in his chest and barked in a cold voice:

"Get lost!"

Thud--!

The cleaver chopped heavily into the cutting board, landing a mere half-inch from where Huang Silang had stepped.

This strike was so fast and fierce that it startled the ruffian into a shudder, stumbling back several steps before catching his balance, his face turning an alternating shade of blue and white with anger.

Yet when he saw the fierce malice faintly glinting in Chen Mu's eyes, not daring to provoke him further, he immediately turned to curse at the surrounding crowd:

"What are you looking at? Stare again and I'll dig your dog eyes out!"

After shouting, he kicked over the crossbeam supporting the stall and retreated with a somewhat disheveled air, vanishing around the street corner.

Only then did the surrounding neighbors dare to gather around, helping Chen Mu tidy up his stall while offering advice all at once.

"Chen the Butcher, you're muddle-headed! That fellow Huang holds grudges like nobody else. You have a whole family to support, why bother arguing with him?"

"Sigh, Huang Silang isn't worth a damn, but behind him stands Master Ma. You ought to grab a couple catties of good meat, Brother Mu, and go over later to make an apology."

Most of them meant well, but Chen Mu acted completely unconcerned.

He picked up the mutton that had rolled into the snowy mud, wiped it with a burlap cloth, and said to the surrounding folk:

"Alright, uncles and aunts, stop crowding around here. It's cold today, grab a couple of big bones to take back and make soup. Put the money on the tab."

As he spoke, the blade-light flashed continuously in Chen Mu's hands, the sharp knife slicing smoothly along the gaps between the ribs, and within a few breaths he had stripped the half-side of mutton of its bones and tendons, chopping it into uniform one-inch-long chunks.

Everyone watched in amazement and clicked their tongues, secretly praising this young Chen the Butcher for his exquisite craftsmanship, while their gazes toward him grew increasingly filled with pity.

It was a pity. After all, he was young and full of vigor, and rashly offending Master Ma San meant this young fellow likely did not have many days left to live.

"Sigh, Xiao Mu. If worst comes to worst, take A-Ning and flee the city to hide. Take this money."

A few familiar uncles and aunts refused to let Chen Mu's kindness go unreturned, shoving several strings of copper coins into his hands. Not daring to stay long, they grabbed their pork bones and hurried away.

"Alright, Aunt Wang, I know what I'm doing."

Chen Mu did not mind, casually putting the money away.

After sending the neighbors off, he smoothly packed up his morning stall, grabbed a piece of prime meat he had intentionally set aside, and walked back to his small courtyard.

Thinking of Huang Silang's sinister look before leaving, he knew the other man would not let the matter rest.

The scoundrel behind Ma San had ties to the salt smugglers and bandits of the north, with dozens of blade-wielding thugs under his command, controlling the "peace money"—essentially protection fees—on West Street.

A lowly-registered butcher like Chen Mu had no human rights to speak of, and no one would care if he died.

If he were hacked to death by a mob of blades tonight, the yamen would dare casually slap a "demon calamity" label on the case the next day and close it on the spot.

Thinking of this, Chen Mu could not help quickening his pace, passing through several dilapidated streets and alleys to reach a small courtyard with rammed-earth walls.

Pushing open the gate and entering the yard, Chen Mu glanced at the inner room in the back, not rushing in to see A-Ning.

A-Ning was a wife he had picked up, and she had recently contracted a cold. There was no need to let her know about these vexing matters.

He first took the meat into the kitchen to tidy it up, set it over a slow fire to stew, and then stood in the snow to begin sharpening his knife.

Having slaughtered livestock for nearly half a year, he had yet to try killing a person.

After first transmigrating, he had been cautious in word and deed, and it was not as though he had never endured things, terrified of provoking trouble.

Yet Huang Silang had no business whatsoever targeting A-Ning.

This made Chen Mu completely resolved to kill.

That fellow also hailed from a lowly registry with a worthless life; killing him would be just like slaughtering one more beast.

If that bastard truly dared to bring people over to his doorstep today, Chen Mu would not mind testing his blade on the spot.

Before that, however, Chen Mu still had his daily lesson to complete.

Testing the blade with his fingertip to ensure the edge was sufficiently sharp, he finally stood up and walked to the corner of the yard.

A simple stone-built livestock shed stood here, with two sheep tied inside.

Chen Mu's daily lesson was slaughtering life.

Wiping the tip of the blade against the edge of the bluestone well using melted snow, he rolled up his sleeves, walked over to the sheep, and paid no mind to the beast's bleating. Pressing the sheep's head down with one hand, he drew the blade horizontally across its throat.

"Puchi!"

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Warm sheep blood sprayed out, splashing into the snow.

The beast kicked its legs twice and quickly stopped moving.

With a flick of his wrist and a drop of his blade, Chen Mu nimbly slaughtered the second sheep.

The very instant both sheep successively breathed their last, his vision blurred, and a line of grayish-blue characters materialized out of thin air:

[Slaughtering Livestock: 2 live sheep. Seizing Blood Essence: 2 wisps.]

Chen Mu immediately felt a scorching, hot current flow through the tip of his blade and into his body, sinking into his Dantian.

His muscles swelled slightly, his grip on the knife grew increasingly powerful, and exhilaration flashed in his eyes.

Almost there! Once I break through the Hundred-Blood Trial, I'll go to the east of the city to learn boxing!

At this thought, boundless strength surged through Chen Mu's entire body, and he buried his head in hacking and dismembering the mutton.

Over the past few months, every time he slaughtered livestock, prompts like this would pop up in front of his eyes.

It was an ancient volume that had appeared in his mind after his transmigration: the Slaughter Register.

As long as he killed living things, he could seize Blood Essence.

With Blood Essence added to his body, his strength, reflexes, and physique could be progressively enhanced.

If he killed martial artists or demons, he could also acquire Karmic Slaughter, which could be used to allocate points and deduce martial arts.

Regrettably, he could not yet be considered a martial artist, nor could he touch orthodox martial arts.

Chen Mu had eavesdropped on the martial arts hall in the east of the city teaching boxing, roughly grasping the initial realms of contemporary martial arts:

Body Tempering, Qi Accumulation, Meridian Opening, Blood Exchange...

Yet before Body Tempering, ordinary people had to temper their physical strength and vitality until their "Hundred Blood" was brimming before they could officially practice martial arts techniques.

An ordinary adult possessed no more than ten wisps of Blood Essence; after painstakingly slaughtering livestock for half a year, Chen Mu was now only a single thread away.

He sank his mind into the Slaughter Register, seeing it clearly inscribed with:

[Slaughter Register · Chen Mu]

[Realm: Mortal (Blood Essence Insufficient)]

[Martial Arts: Ox-Slicing Saber Technique (Pure and Demanding: 88/100)]

[Vigor: 98/100]
[Karma: 0]

"Still two wisps of Blood Essence short, killing two more livestock will be enough."

[Karmic Sin: 0] ``` "Still two wisps of Blood Essence short, killing two more livestock will be enough."

Hanging the well-butisered mutton onto the hook, Chen Mu smiled in satisfaction.

The Hundred-Blood Trial was the first threshold to becoming a Martial Master.

Ordinary wealthy scions, even with great medicinal nourishment, often still had to bitterly practice pole-standing stances to temper themselves for two or three harsh winters.

Yet Chen Mu had used less than half a year, which greatly boosted his inner confidence and gave him faith in apprenticing at a martial arts hall.

Presently the government was incompetent and the frontier army corrupt, relying entirely on martial arts halls to suppress demons and monsters.

The imperial court therefore enacted a clear legal statute: all official disciples of martial arts halls would have their households registered and their status freed, no longer counted as humble commoners.

If they performed meritorious service by slaying demons and subjugating monsters, there were even extra rewards, though most were embezzled by others before ever reaching their hands.

Chen Mu cared nothing for rewards; he only sought to settle down and make a living.

Even if he were merely a registered disciple of the martial arts hall, Ma San and his ilk would not dare to muster the guts to come looking for trouble with him again.

This was also the confidence that allowed Chen Mu to finally flip the script today after enduring for nearly half a year.

"What a pity, I'm still a bit short. With the continuous snow disasters lately, livestock is getting harder and harder to buy."

Forcibly suppressing the palpitations in his heart, Chen Mu was just about to bury his head in boning when the small courtyard's main gate was suddenly banged on loudly with a bang, bang.

"You surnamed Chen, get out here and open the door!"

"Master Ma wants to see you, hurry up and come out with us!"

Outside the courtyard gate, a dozen ruffians wearing short grey cloth tunics were clamoring noisily. Huang Silang took the lead at the front, beating the door and shouting arrogantly:

"I say, Chen the Butcher, how did you end up acting like a shrinking turtle? Weren't you acting all high and mighty just a moment ago?"

"Hurry up and open the door, call the little beauty in your room out so everyone can warm up."

He uttered foul and filthy words, drawing roaring laughter from the dozen ruffians behind him.

Just at that moment, the old wooden door creaked open from the inside, and a frosty wind poured backward into the yard.

Chen Mu's robe hem fluttered in the wind, holding a blood-dripping sharp knife as he stepped out with steady paces.

"What did you just say? I didn't hear clearly."

His gaze was indifferent as he swept it across the crowd of ruffians at the door. Everyone felt an inexplicable chill in their hearts.

Huang Silang was standing the closest. Seeing that boning knife longer than his own forearm, his heart grew timid, yet he put up a bold front to intimidate him:

"Chen the Butcher, what are you acting so arrogant for? Master Ma San is a Martial Master who has passed the Hundred-Blood Trial!"

"You, a bottom-feeder who slaughters pigs and sheep, think you can turn the tables just because you have some brute strength? I am not afraid to tell you either! Today you are a dead man!"

"Oh? The Hundred-Blood Trial?" Chen Mu suddenly smiled, his gaze turning abruptly cold the next moment. "What a coincidence, I'm still a bit short."

"Just right, I'll take you to make up the difference."

Before his voice faded, he abruptly raised his cattail-leaf-sized palm, grabbing Huang Silang's neck with a smack, his right-hand blade smoothly thrusting forward.

Splat—!

Warm blood sprayed, splashing onto the faces of several ruffians.

Half a bright, gleaming blade tip pierced out from the back of Huang Silang's neck, blood gushing like a torrent. He wheezed twice, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"You... how could you?!"

The crowd of ruffians was struck by a mix of shock and anger. Just as they wanted to hurl abuses, Chen Mu moved again!

"Noisy."

That pair of hands accustomed to slaughtering livestock moved as fast as lightning, instinctively wielding the self-comprehended Ox-Slicing Saber Technique.

With a pull of his blade tip along the throat line, he slashed to the shoulder blade joints and fiercely twisted, plunging splat into the bone crevices, cutting and slicing consecutively against the muscles and bringing up a cascade of blood flowers.

The dying Huang Silang instantly felt a pain so excruciating he began to wail miserably.

Harden his heart, Chen Mu treated killing a man just like slaughtering a sheep. The blade tip under his palm flashed continuously, with extremely smooth deboning and tendon-pulling, followed by a fierce pull of the blade.

Clatter...

In barely two or three blinks of an eye, the bones all over Huang Silang's body were shattered, nearly dismembered.

His entire corpse scattered into a ground of mutilated limbs and minced flesh, looking intensely tragic.

The surrounding ruffians were all left with their scalps tingling from Chen Mu's ruthlessness, scared so limp in the legs they almost vomited.

Chen Mu's heart was equally unsettled, but on the surface he forced himself to stay calm.

He wanted to use this moment of murderous might to drive away the rest of the people, when suddenly blood-red light surged before his eyes, and scarlet seal script characters emerged:

[First minor evil slain today: recorded one count of Karmic Slaughter. Seized Blood Essence: 10 wisps.]

[Realm: Martial Master (Blood Essence Insufficient → Hundred Blood Filled)]

Blood Essence poured backward in reverse from the blade tip, surging and roaring along the spine's great dragon, swiftly rushing into all four limbs and a hundred skeletons, triggering the simultaneous ringing of tendons and bones.

The Hundred-Blood Trial was broken right here!