Killing Rong Futong

After Lin Qing struck, he quickly searched the man and found a short blade and a few copper coins.

Petty thugs this low on the ladder really were dirt poor.

Lin Qing retreated into the darkness again, stones in hand, and waited patiently for the next man to come out.

With that skinny fellow making no move outside the courtyard, someone was bound to come check on him.

Sure enough, before long, someone inside noticed.

"Master Rong, what's taking Deng San so long? He only went out for a piss. Did he fall into the latrine?" asked a fat man with a dark face.

At the reminder, Rong Futong came to his senses. "Go take a look."

"Right away." The fat man rose and opened the door. A dark shape flew straight at him. Before he could make it out, agony shot through his right eye.

"Ah!"

He screamed and fell backward, flat on his back. Blood streamed from his right eye. He was blind in it now.

Rong Futong started. With a clang, he drew the saber at his waist and roared, "Who's there? Get the hell out here!"

Another thug beside him rose from his stool, a vicious look on his face.

The two rushed through the doorway one after the other. Dark shapes whistled out of the night toward them.

Rong Futong reacted fast, dropping into a roll to dodge. The thug beside him was not so quick. He screamed as the stones smashed both his eyes, then fell to the ground howling in pain.

Smack!

Rong Futong's arm went numb, and his saber fell from his hand.

Only then did he realize the dark shapes were stones. His heart lurched. What skill with hidden weapons!

"Hero, please spare me. I work for an officer of the Soul-Calming Office. If I've offended you before, I had no choice. If it's silver you want, there's some inside. I'll fetch it for you right now. Rest assured, I'll take what happened today to my grave."

Rong Futong had caved at once. Anyone this skilled with hidden weapons had to be a martial artist. How could he fight one?

He needed to stay alive first. Then he could turn to Han Tai and Jiang Baihe for revenge.

But before he finished speaking, a figure charged out of the darkness and kicked him.

Rong Futong failed to dodge. The kick struck his chest and sent him sprawling.

Lin Qing showed no mercy. He darted forward and hurled a packet of lime powder straight into Rong Futong's face.

Rong Futong's vision went black. "Hero, have mercy! Don't kill me!"

Lin Qing raised his foot and stamped hard on Rong Futong's right arm. With a crack, it twisted out of shape.

"Ah!"

Rong Futong screamed even louder. Lin Qing did not stop. Another stomp ruined his left arm.

The searing pain made Rong Futong pass out on the spot.

Lin Qing had held back from killing him. Death would have been too easy for scum like Rong Futong. Crippling him was the greater punishment.

He kicked Rong Futong aside like a dead dog and slipped inside. The thug whose right eye he had blinded lay on the floor, his face covered in blood, groaning in pain.

With a black cloth over his face, Lin Qing had no fear of being recognized. He grabbed the thug by the collar and hauled his upper body off the floor.

"Talk. Where's the money?"

"Under the bed!"

Lin Qing drove his blade through the thug's throat, ending his life. Then he went to the bed and bent to look beneath it. Sure enough, there was a small pearwood chest.

He snatched it up, tucked it under his arm, left the courtyard, and vaulted over the wall.

Before long, after winding through several turns, he reached a secluded alley nearby. A reeking drainage ditch ran alongside it.

Lin Qing put away the black cloth, changed quickly into clean, fresh clothes, and carefully thought over what he had done.

Rong Futong is crippled. The authorities will investigate, but finding the culprit in this world won't be easy.

Lin Qing replayed the entire encounter in his mind and found no obvious mistake. Still, he had acted too hastily and without enough preparation. His lack of combat experience had shown, too. Perhaps he could have ended the fight more cleanly.

After reflecting for a while, Lin Qing set the matter aside and opened the chest. Inside were two banknotes worth a hundred taels each, plus more than thirty taels in loose silver.

It was a fortune, all of it wrung from the common people by Rong Futong.

Lin Qing pocketed the banknotes and silver, threw the chest into the filthy ditch, and strode away.

Gurgle, gurgle!

In the courtyard of the Artisans' Office, Lin Qing was brewing a medicinal decoction. Reddish-brown liquid churned in the copper pot, sending up curls of steam and a rich herbal fragrance.

He was making it for Shen Lian to treat her shingles.

Once it was ready, Lin Qing took another copper pot, added a dozen or so medicinal ingredients, and began brewing again.

This time, he was making a health-preserving, qi-nourishing decoction according to the Chen Family Medical Arts. One bowl a day could strengthen his blood and nourish his body.

Before long, the second decoction was ready. Lin Qing waited for it to cool, then lifted the bowl and drained it. Comfort spread through his whole body.

He carried the other bowl to Shen Lian's room. She was lounging on the bed, looking him up and down.

"Lin Qing, the assessment is in seven days. How's it going? Have you reached minor mastery?"

"Not quite, but don't worry, Lord Shen. I'm confident I can reach it within three days," Lin Qing said calmly.

"Not bad. I knew I had the right man. Oh, and that old hag Yin Muhua has shown up again. Be careful when you go out, and stay off the streets at night," Shen Lian added with a smile.

"She's back?" Lin Qing frowned.

More than a month had passed since he crippled Rong Futong, and the authorities had discovered nothing. He had not dared use the two banknotes, but he had spent the thirty-odd taels of loose silver on medicinal ingredients. A bowl of the health-preserving decoction every day had made his body steadily stronger.

His martial arts had improved greatly as well. On the panel, his proficiency in the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake had reached 59%, just short of minor mastery.

He had also made great strides with the first move of Tathagata Fist. Life had felt secure. He had not expected that old witch Yin Muhua to turn up again.

"Just be careful. That old hag isn't likely to trouble you for no reason," Shen Lian said with a smile.

"Understood. I'll be off." Lin Qing turned and left.

That night, he practiced the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake beneath the moonlight. His movements grew smoother, every punch and kick more forceful.

He ran through the eight moves again and again, tireless as a machine.

On the panel, his proficiency crept upward.

Then it ticked over to 60%.

Lin Qing shuddered, delight flashing in his eyes.

"Finally. Minor mastery!"

He could clearly feel his body undergoing another transformation. The vital energy within him was growing stronger again.

If proficiency had been a current of water, it was now a stream. Every part of his body transformed with it. Muscles, sinews, skin, and bones all grew tougher.

Before long, the transformation ended.

Lin Qing opened his eyes and flexed. His joints answered with a string of pops.

"I must have two thousand jin of strength in one arm now. An ordinary person couldn't withstand a single punch."

Lin Qing marveled at it, then turned his thoughts to the panel and equipped his newly mastered Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake. Another surge of strength appeared within him, and his physique improved dramatically.

What a rush!

Lin Qing wanted to shout. His body was already at the late stage of bright force, and the Rebirth Record had granted him another boost. Together, they doubled the strength of one arm to four thousand jin.