Chapter 26
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Subservience - 3
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The strong do not hide. They have no need to. A beast baring its fangs at a rabbit is free.
Because it is certain no petty insect can steal its victory. Because it knows even if the rabbit struts right in front of its eyes, it cannot escape.
The tiger's path, stained with the blood and gore of its victims on its claws, becomes history in itself. Sometimes, revealing oneself induces greater terror.
And the Dragon Star Clan was never a rabbit.
They do not hide.
"Anyone who helps or harbors her will be considered an enemy of the Dragon Star Clan."
They do not evade.
"Come out, you son of a bitch!"
They do not even bother hunting the culprit. They do not know the culprit's identity. Nor do they care to. If they catch their eye, they kill.
It was a complex problem with a simple solution. A sharp blade that restricted the opponent's movements.
Seal off the entire back alley and create a menacing atmosphere. Unleash experts to rummage indiscriminately.
Forcing a choice was a cunning tradition of the unorthodox sects. Hide, and you became a cowardly bandit who tucked tail and fled. Show yourself, and you had to prepare to face the Dragon Star Clan's wrath.
Either way, the Dragon Star Clan's face remained unscathed. The ghost's scheme was insidious.
"I heard your parents fucked a dog!"
"You coward! Come out and take a punch from your big brother here!"
The Dragon Star Clan's red poles charged through the streets like mad stallions. Men who cracked skulls with clubs as casually as they ate rice. The people of Fire Mountain held their breath. Every house bolted their doors and shunned the outside. The refugees who had flowed into these streets were no different.
Through rumors. Through information. Through tales, or firsthand experience of brutal beatings. Fear dominated the alleys. Places beyond the Huangfu Clan's reach were the Dragon Star Clan's domain, and they knew how to demonstrate that power. Today, no one visited the girl's shack.
Passing refugees merely cast pitying glances at the girl. Some, like Zhang Ping, even urged her to flee.
But the girl did not vanish. As always, she pulled out her needle and waited for the guests who would not come. Bai Hui beside her did not twitch either. Sword at his waist, eyes fixed afar, he stood like a stone statue.
Zhang Ping pounded his frustrated chest.
"It's not too late even now."
He was afraid. The girl realized it.
Her eyes had grown even keener since emerging from the cave. Gradually expanding their range. Zhang Ping's emotions appeared as clear as spring water. The instinctive fear buried deep in his heart, masked by his own facade. The girl smiled at Zhang Ping. His aura calmed slightly.
Good.
The girl watched him quietly, then suddenly glanced at her own hand. The pale white hand seemed a shade whiter than before. As if no blood flowed through it. The tips of her fingers, drained white, trembled faintly now. Ever so slightly. Barely perceptible unless one stimulated the energy encircling her heart.
Who could see this?
Zhang Ping's meager qi could not. Even Bai Hui would struggle. The girl knew. The flow of qi visible to her revealed much. Only she knew of this tremor.
Yet, even so.
The girl hid her hand. Naturally tucking it into her clothes. Out of sight.
Her beautiful voice spread through the cold winter air.
"You can run if you want."
You.
As she replied, qi surged back to Zhang Ping's face. Frustration. That was the emotion. The girl chuckled lightly and waved him off. Her fingertips still trembled faintly.
A martial artist was coming.
Uncle Jang, the woodcutter who loved tales of the jianghu, had said it. Martial artists in big cities were the real deal.
They bent iron like noodles and crushed rocks like tofu. They thought of nothing but martial arts all day, even after fighting nonstop. Mad fighters, monsters who swung swords endlessly. Beings who had likely killed far more than the girl ever had.
Could she kill them?
Would their flesh and hearts be as fragile as before? She did not know. The girl had lived her whole life unconnected to the jianghu. Until that day, she had never even struck a person. Never resolved to kill... naturally. Staking her life in battle still felt awkward. The sensation of crushing a human heart was unfamiliar to her hands.
From now on, it might be tough. Luck might not favor her.
But she was not afraid.
The reason was likely that her heart had no room left. It held only one thing.
Hatred for martial artists.
No space for other emotions. The pitch-black true qi, packed tight, swirled around her heart like a vortex. The viscous mud filled in the cave of her hometown embraced her heart and would not let go. Only the burning hatred made it pulse. It gave the girl the power to grow strong.
She whispered.
"They're coming."
Black-clad warriors branded with punishment marks on their backs appeared one by one, approaching the shack. Their strides bold, without hesitation or doubt. In an instant, they surrounded the girl and stood with hands behind backs.
Suddenly, one warrior burst from the ranks, twirling two short swords recklessly. Chewing some unknown weed with a slovenly air, he asked the girl in a brash tone.
"Pah. Don't you know you're not supposed to come out?"
He kicked at the girl's shack flippantly.
"Don't you know? Huh? That looks pretty nice, hand it over and scram while I'm being nice."
"That bitch too."
One of the Penalty Squad leaders chimed in, sparking raucous laughter. Bai Hui furrowed his brow at the sound.
His left hand moved silently toward his sword hilt.
The twin short sword wielder sensed the thick killing intent and slowly turned. At a glance, his posture seemed utterly arrogant, but he had twisted at a perfect angle to evade the death line. His footwork allowed retreat at any moment—quite cunning.
A strange silence settled, as if they might lunge at each other any second.
"You little..."
"Wait, squad leader. Big brother hasn't arrived yet."
But at those words, the twin short sword man retreated far back. Discipline rare in unorthodox sects. And then.
Thud.
The sky was overcast. Footsteps echoed. Thud. Thud. The strong exuded pressure not just in presence, but in prelude.
Under heavy clouds, the girl's eyes reflected brown qi rising from the alley mouth. Her qi sense rippled from the erupting aura. In the narrow lane, the Penalty Squad warriors lining both sides bowed at right angles.
A massive giant strode through their midst.
The Dragon Star Clan's vanguard, the greatest blade the Fire Mountain's mountain lord could deploy.
True to his name, Spotted-Scar Lone Dragon was a man whose face was covered in scars.
His tempered external arts filled him with rock-hard muscles even the White Lotus Pure Steel Legs could not breach. His palm alone matched an adult man's head, and his thighs rivaled a house's main beam in girth. He was truly like a boulder.
The giant halted before the girl. A heavy shadow fell.
"Ten of the Dragon Star Clan's red poles are dead. They were brothers who shared righteousness with me."
"Proud little brothers, one and all. They knew loyalty, knew style, true heroes who united hearts with kindred spirits."
Pffft. A scoff rang out. It was Zhang Ping. Beside him, Bai Hui leaked killing intent in streams. Spotted-Scar's heavy gaze turned to them, but none turned away. Zhang Ping's smirk lingered. Bai Hui's hand rested on his sword hilt.
Spotted-Scar ignored them. They would be rags in an hour anyway. Instead, he focused on the girl.
An alien aura he had never felt before. Not the refined qi of the orthodox paths, nor the clear qi of Daoists. Not even the tenacious, sturdy presence unique to the unorthodox. Something deeply sunken. Viscous, hot.
Like black flame. He had never heard of such a technique anywhere in Guangdong.
An unknown martial art. A qi so hostile it stung the skin.
Spotted-Scar asked.
"Did you kill them?"
"I did."
The girl's answer was plain. No weight in her words.
No resolve shown. Sitting in her shack, head tilted up, whispering with an expressionless face. To her, the death of ten Dragon Star red poles seemed to leave no impression.
Just that kind of death.
"Then."
Hearing that, Spotted-Scar's body flushed red-hot. His Ten Refinements Golden Vajra Art writhed. The indestructible body forged through ten temperings, every meridian in his body awakening.
His frame doubled in size, hair unbound, entire body glowing red with scars everywhere. Spotted-Scar declared.
"The Penalty Squad hereby sentences you to trampling execution."