Chapter Eight: The Hunt

The indifferent, emotionless voice sent a chill straight through Song Jixin’s heart. Before he could even beg for mercy, a fist the size of a sandbag slammed into his face.

"Spare..."

With a jarring, sickening thud, Song Jixin collapsed backward, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"I will give you unimaginable wealth..."

Blood was just beginning to trickle from Song Jixin’s nostrils when, in the next instant, a hand as large as a meditation cushion loomed instantly larger in his vision.

*Crack.* Song Jixin, whose bones were sturdy enough, felt his neck twist at an unnatural angle, emitting a series of sharp, crisp sounds of bone against bone.

One could only say that youth is a fine thing; his bones were hard, clattering as they shifted. Could he really just fall asleep like that?

Seeing this, Su Ling felt no pity. He traded his open palm for a fist, leaned over, straddled the unconscious Song Jixin, and unleashed a torrent of blows.

"You are quite arrogant."

*Bam.* A massive, purplish bruise swelled on Song Jixin’s otherwise handsome and slightly sinister face.

Stung by the agony, Song Jixin struggled to pry open his swollen eyelids. His crooked mouth opened, attempting to continue his desperate, fearless pleas. But Su Ling, who believed in never sparing a man once he had the upper hand, was not about to let him off so easily.

His fist tore through the air with a piercing whistle, slamming ruthlessly into Song Jixin’s abdomen.

Song Jixin groaned in pain, his expression contorting, nearly vomiting up the meal he had eaten at noon. Su Ling felt the body beneath him begin to twitch and thrash like a victim of a seizure.

He looked like a fish cast ashore, gasping for air and flopping about—a truly unpleasant sensation to be sitting on. Su Ling glanced at him with disdain. Song Jixin, unable to speak and having no chance to push off the plague-bringer pinning him down, was suddenly released as Su Ling stood up.

Song Jixin had just begun to breathe a sigh of relief when, the next moment, a bone-deep agony surged through his left leg.

"Argh!"

Song Jixin stretched his mouth into a hideous grimace, letting out a shriek of unrefined, pathetic agony that sounded like a dying chicken.

"I keep my word."

Su Ling had said he would break one of Song Jixin’s legs, and he would not go back on his promise.

***

Song Jixin, enduring the agony of his broken leg, was now curled around the limb, wailing on the ground like an earthworm, completely devoid of dignity.

Su Ling picked at his ear. When Song Jixin’s screams had nearly exhausted his strength, Su Ling slowly approached.

"Don't... don't come any closer..."

Song Jixin had developed a profound psychological trauma; he longed only to flee this place, unable to bear the sight of Su Ling for another second.

Su Ling ignored his pleas. He cornered him against the wall, crouched down, and leaned close to the boy’s comical, swollen face, whispering softly.

"Kid, you’ve crossed the wrong person. This is just the interest. If I ever catch you doing anything out of line again, what follows will be far worse than this."

"…Understood."

Song Jixin had lost his initial arrogance. He looked like a hound that had spent too long in the Pan Hong training yard—his spirit broken, radiating a deep, resentful gloom.

Su Ling snorted coldly. Leaving the wretched Song Jixin behind, he turned and walked toward the courtyard gate, showing no concern for potential retaliation.

Su Ling was not entirely unconcerned, of course; Song Jixin’s status was unique. But as of now, the boy held no power, and his uncle, Song Changjing—a martial artist at the peak of the ninth realm—had not yet arrived. There was no need to worry. Still, one had to remain vigilant; the man was petty and narrow-minded.

"Brother Su, you are amazing!"

Outside the courtyard, the townspeople who had been watching had already dispersed; such a commotion was bound to attract trouble, and it was typical for the locals to leave early to protect themselves.

But Chen Ping’an was not a typical man; he was a bit of a simple, honest soul. He first glanced into the open courtyard, where the black-clad guards lay wailing on the ground. Then, he looked at Su Ling, who stood calm and unruffled, his clothes not even rumpled. His shock was beyond words.

"Mm, let’s go."

Su Ling brushed the dust from his hands—dust gathered from beating Song Jixin—and flashed a brilliant smile. He hooked an arm around Chen Ping’an’s thin shoulder and walked away slowly.

After a brief exchange, and amidst Chen Ping’an’s envious gaze, Su Ling pushed open his own wooden door, gathered his tools, and set off toward the remote mountain forest to hunt.

The sun was bright, and the trees cast deep shade. In the depths of the lush, rarely visited forest to the east of the town, near a bubbling stream that flowed down from the mountain peak, a beast that resembled both a deer and a leopard stood with its ears pricked. Finding no danger, it slowly lowered its head.

The beast opened its mouth, and as its tongue touched the sweet water, a shadow—ghostly and sudden—emerged from the woods behind it.

The beast shrieked. Before its muscles could even tense for a sprint, a dull thud echoed: a fist, swift as the wind, struck the creature’s head.

The skin split, and raw muscle was exposed to the air as chunks of flesh were blasted away. The beast, bleeding from its seven orifices, collapsed like a boneless snake. Its fifty-kilogram frame hit the water with a splash, sending ripples through the stream.

The brook began to carry the crimson blood and flesh downstream.

Sure that the beast had perished from that single blow, Su Ling did not move it immediately. He took out his gear and began to gut it by the stream, discarding the entrails that were too cumbersome to carry. He was not worried about whether this would attract hungry predators; he was familiar with this forest. If a beast came, he wouldn’t mind the delivery—after all, a beast was a treasure trove of parts.

Before long, Su Ling packed the cleaned meat into a cloth bag. He waited ten minutes, but to his slight disappointment, no predators came sniffing the blood.

"Was I too heavy-handed before?"

Su Ling shook his head with a wry smile. This method had worked perfectly in the past, but since he had hunted the beasts in this area to the point of near-extinction, even leaving fresh, delicious entrails by the stream no longer guaranteed a visitor.

Although he wasn't an expert in zoology, he knew that beasts, especially large carnivores, had a sense of smell many times stronger than a human’s.

"It seems I’ll have to find a new place to hunt."

The beasts had likely grown clever. They ignored free meals, perhaps even fleeing as soon as they caught the scent.