Another finger severed

Mad Xiang bit down on his collar, his features twisting into a knot, yet he did not let out a single cry.

Blood spattered, and a severed finger rolled onto the wooden table.

Master Yu pointed at the finger. "Wrap that up for me. I have an important use for it!"

"Yes, sir."

There was even laughter among the onlookers.

These villagers... never mind not being frightened, they could actually laugh?

How fucking twisted did their minds have to be?

Most chilling of all, the children of Falling Blossoms Valley were not frightened by the sight either. Instead, they clapped and giggled, singing that mocking verse in their childish voices...

"Half a life, not a bushel of wealth amassed; each spring, the cuckoo mourns the years gone past. Ask for whom this song is sung? Shibai of Falling Blossoms Valley, its hapless one."

With no more entertainment to be had, the crowd dispersed in a rush, leaving only pear blossoms drifting down across the mountain.

The peddlers went on tending their stalls, the peasant women returned to picking vegetables, and the children ran off laughing.

In the blink of an eye, the entrance to the gambling house was deserted, leaving only a pool of blood and flowers strewn across the ground.

From across the street, Mo Chen watched Mad Xiang grip a strip of cloth between his teeth and wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding, then rise from the ground as though nothing had happened.

His back slightly hunched and his steps unsteady, Mad Xiang slowly headed toward the far end of the village, looking exactly as he had on his way here.

This Falling Blossoms Valley—what a paradise secluded from the world!

Breathtaking scenery, and such... honest, simple folk...

Mo Chen drew his gaze away from