Chapter 3: Killing Upon Waking

These movements appeared simple, but in truth, every muscle in his body strained with exertion. In just a short while, he was so exhausted his whole body trembled and his vision dimmed.

He found a corner, lay down on the ground, and rested for a long time before managing to get up again.

Moving slowly along the street, he kept an eye on his surroundings with his peripheral vision. It was now around the end of the hour of You (about 7 p.m.).

Shops lining both sides of the street were preparing to close; panels were slotted back into the door frames, leaving only a small entrance for the owners.

From a nearby tavern drifted the tantalizing aroma of food, making Ling Chi swallow hard, eyes reddened by hunger.

He was searching for someone, looking for the city’s beggars.

Where there are people, there are beggars, and where there are beggars, there are slave traders. Slave traders were the ones Ling Chi despised most—taking some money from them was only just, and if possible, taking their lives as well was even better.

Yet he walked the entire street without spotting a single beggar. Just as he was pondering where to look next, the sounds of shouting, scolding, and crying came from a small courtyard ahead.

Peering through the fence, he saw a small, shifty-eyed man wielding a whip, berating a scrawny, frail beggar child.

“This is all you made today? And you still want me to hire a doctor for your brother? Consider yourself lucky I haven’t beaten you to death. Take your brother and get lost.”

“If you come back tomorrow with so little again, I’ll break your brother’s legs and stew him to feed you little bastards.”

“Have mercy, master! I won’t dare again. I’ll go back now and beg properly tomorrow. Please, don’t eat my brother,” whimpered the filthy little girl, her voice trembling with sobs.

“Good that you understand. Look at your worthless lives—how could you ever be worth medicine? Get back, and make sure you’re here with the money tomorrow,” the man, known as Dog Master, snarled viciously.

Ling Chi watched as a filthy little girl, carrying an even dirtier boy on her back, hobbled out of the yard.

A fragile body bore another, even smaller one, their steps unsteady.

He followed them quietly, winding through alleys, until they reached their home—a tiny, makeshift shack.

The shack had no door, only a rotten plank carelessly propped up. The dirty girl pushed the plank aside and squeezed in. Just as she was about to close it, a hand smeared with black mud seized the wood.

Ling Chi slipped inside, pressing his stone knife against the girl’s grimy neck.

Startled by Ling Chi’s sudden appearance and the blade at her throat, the girl trembled in terror. Thinking he had been sent by Dog Master to take her brother, her already swollen eyes grew redder, and her legs gave way as she knelt, clutching her brother in confusion.

“Please, don’t kill my brother. He’s only three. I have no money—have mercy on us,” she pleaded miserably, not daring to look up.

“Quiet. I’m not sent by Dog Master. I just want to ask you a question—answer honestly, no lies. As long as you tell the truth, you’ll still have a way out.”

Ling Chi withdrew his blade and placed a hand on the boy’s forehead. Just a slight fever.

Terrified by the stranger’s intrusion, the little girl could only nod, promising not to lie.

“Tell me, where does this Dog Master usually go? Who lives in his courtyard? Is he a martial artist?”

“I don’t know if... if he’s a martial artist. I’ve never seen him practice. He lives with his wife. He likes to drink at the Yixiang Pavilion, always comes back drunk, and when he’s drunk, he beats anyone he sees. Several of my companions were beaten half to death and then disappeared,” she answered, her voice hoarse and hesitant, eyes fixed on the ground.

Ling Chi crouched down. “How old are you? Do you have a name? How long have you been begging in He County?”

“My name is Huanhuan, I’m nine. Dog Master calls us little bastards... My brother is three, his name is Akun. Our parents were killed by slave hunters while we were fleeing, and my brother and I were sold here months ago.”

Seeing that Ling Chi had no intent to harm her, Huanhuan relaxed a little; at least she no longer stammered.

A nine-year-old child struggling to survive with a three-year-old brother—what a damned world.

“Don’t call yourself a slave anymore. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here for Dog Master because of a personal grudge; it has nothing to do with you. If I succeed, life goes on as usual. If I die, just pretend I was never here.”

“Stay here. If anyone asks if you’ve seen a stranger, you know what to say. Whether your brother lives depends on you.” Ling Chi’s expression was stern, but his tone was gentle.

After asking for directions, Ling Chi, without money for nightclothes, had no choice but to take a risk, sneaking toward Yixiang Pavilion along a deserted path.

Night fell with a gentle breeze as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

At the onset of night, the streets of the county were deserted. In these times, the poor had nothing to do after dark but return home and produce children.

Curfews were meant for the common folk; those with influence paid them no mind, especially here on the borderlands, far from the central capital.

Ling Chi moved cautiously, hiding near the Yixiang Pavilion.

He had made his plan upon entering the city. In his previous life, he started with people like this.

No one would mourn a dead slave trader. Whatever money he could take from them would help him settle down, find a martial arts school to learn some skills, and begin to understand this world.

The night gradually swallowed the county. Crouched in the darkness, Ling Chi bit his tongue, the pain momentarily dispelling hunger and fatigue.

He gripped the obsidian knife, wrapped in cloth, in a reverse hold. The stone needle was tucked where he could easily reach it.

Ling Chi, used to firearms, did not trust these primitive weapons, but he had no other choice.

Yixiang Pavilion was the only brothel in town, catering to all tastes, depending on one’s spending power.

As a monopoly, it was secretly controlled by unknown forces—most likely the local magistrate and gentry.

Its ornate facade stood in stark contrast to the surrounding shops.

Several guards waited by the entrance, mainly to fend off irate townsfolk or the families of women sold inside.

“No, I can’t wait any longer. If I keep waiting, I’ll starve to death before the bastard even comes out,” Ling Chi muttered, frustrated by his own body’s weakness; after so little time hungry, he was already lightheaded.

Not a good sign, especially before a fight.

He decided to circle around to the back door. Brothels often had a rear exit for clients to escape in emergencies.

The back door was ajar, with a cloth curtain hanging behind it. Ling Chi listened—no sound of breathing or footsteps.

Unlike taverns, the brothel’s cooks prepared food early in the evening. By now, they were likely gambling in the storeroom.

Ling Chi grabbed a roast chicken and left without lingering, finding a dark corner to devour it, ignoring the stench of urine nearby.

With a whole chicken in his belly, he finally felt his strength return. He flexed his arms and legs, doing a few stretches.

He picked a place along Dog Master’s route home and settled down to rest, eyes closed.

Time passed. One by one, patrons with families staggered out, heading home.

Ling Chi watched the entrance, finally spotting his target—a drunken, hunched figure with triangular eyes. No doubt about it.

With his experience, Ling Chi felt no nerves, only a trace of excitement—this was to be his first kill in this life.

Rather than stare directly at Dog Master, he slipped toward the preselected spot.

“Take care, Dog Master! Next time, come earlier—Yingying will be waiting for you! I’ll have that pill you like all ready; I guarantee you’ll have a great time,” called out the madam, her voice syrupy as she held Dog Master’s rough hand.

“No problem! I’ll come for Yingying next time. Make sure she’s available—I don’t like leftovers,” he replied with a leering laugh, reaching to grope her.

She twisted away, slapping his hand. “Come early, Dog Master. The boss’s words—remember them. Pure boys and girls are all the rage with the high and mighty. Your day of glory is near; don’t forget to take care of me when you’re prosperous.”

Her coquettish glance nearly bewitched him. By the time he recovered, she was gone.

He sniffed the lingering scent of powder on his fingers, chuckling to himself—these brothel women were far more fun than anyone at home.

Drunk, he staggered along, humming a tune.

Ling Chi watched from the shadows, breath slowing as his target neared, stone knife and needle at the ready.

As Dog Master swayed past, Ling Chi sprang.

Left leg planted, waist and hips twisting, right leg swinging in a full arc.

Body like a drawn bow, foot like an arrow.

His toe drove fiercely into the back of Dog Master’s left knee. The sudden assault left the man no time to react; he toppled backward.

Ling Chi finally found the angle he dreamed of.

Left hand plunged the stone needle diagonally beneath the fifth rib—closest to the heart.

Right hand, gripping the stone knife in reverse, drove it into Dog Master’s neck and dragged it sideways.

The expected scene didn’t occur—the blade wasn’t sharp enough, stuck at the Adam’s apple. But that didn’t stop blood from spraying five or six feet.

“Tsk, tsk, you must have high blood pressure, you bastard.”