Chapter 26
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Die and Come Back to Life (Fainting and Awakening) (1)
Four Thousand Four did not open the box.
A single month was not enough time to even recover his body. The wounds inflicted by the Twelve Nightmares ran that deep.
He had come back from the brink of death, one step away from the afterlife.
If just one more person had stabbed him, he might never have returned.
Martial arts? He had no desire for them.
If he had to chase after Vanguard in a month, recovering his body took priority over learning something new.
He had clearly decided what to do for that month.
He had slept so much that sleep no longer came. So he lay there staring at the ceiling with his eyes open. His eyes were open, but he did not move his body. He just lay still, gazing upward.
Rats scurried across the roof.
"Martial arts?"
"No need to learn them."
The murder ghosts confined to the Nineteen Hells all knew at least a bit of martial arts by default.
Some among them were even proper martial artists who had trained orthodoxly.
Four Thousand Four had not trained orthodoxly. But it was not as if he had learned nothing. He had learned, yet since he had not received direct instruction from a master, it could not really be called learning.
Neither this nor that...
Moreover, the Nineteen Hells held people utterly unrelated to martial arts.
They were serial killers who had been captured precisely because the world deemed they must be isolated from society without having learned any martial arts.
Killing and martial arts were unrelated.
Martial arts might aid in killing, but one did not need to train in them to commit murder.
It was the impulse to kill that defined a killer.
Those who killed by accident or in a fit of impulse were not imprisoned in the Nineteen Hells. Even planned murders targeting specific individuals did not land one there.
The Nineteen Hells confined only those who could not endure the itch without killing.
Of course, the Nineteen Hells in his mind referred to the Killing Chambers and Killing Prisons on the fourth underground level. He did not even consider those in other prisons.
Human scum who felt an unbearable itch when the killing impulse arose, unable to resist without murdering!
They cared nothing for martial arts.
High martial prowess did not make one good at killing. Lacking it did not prevent one from killing.
Martial arts were irrelevant to chasing Vanguard.
"If he doesn't want it, I have no intention of forcing him to learn. Then how about I just unblock your true energy? You don't want that either?"
"Please do."
This time, Four Thousand Four made the request.
Martial arts he could take or leave, but his true energy had to be unblocked. Only then could he move his body as he once had.
"I'll open your meridians little by little. Fortunately, they've only been sealed for a few years, so they should come open easily... but turn around and lie face down. Today, I'll use acupuncture."
Four Thousand Four turned and lay face down, exposing his back.
The old woman yanked off his upper garment and began inserting the needles.
There was a book called Death Verdict.
Given the title on the cover, one might assume it was about death.
It was a martial arts manual.
No. If it were a martial arts manual, it should describe weapon techniques, movement arts, mental cultivation, or sword forms, but not a single such thing appeared.
Most martial arts manuals included illustrations to aid understanding, but Death Verdict had not even a scribble—only densely packed text.
Most martial arts manuals had sections explaining forms, with short paragraphs and sometimes numbered sequences.
Death Verdict had numbers too. But after "One," the text stretched on for three or four pages. Extremely long sentences continued unbroken.
Death Verdict did not even list the author or sect.
The writer was unknown.
It seemed like a martial arts manual, yet it was not.
Death Verdict detailed the fastest ways to kill a person.
If strangling the throat with both hands... most people gripped crudely and squeezed with all their might. Thus, nearly all strangling victims had broken necks.
And it took a long time to die.
Strangling to death meant suffocation, after all.
Beyond the time, the pain was excruciating. The thrashing went without saying. They struggled desperately to survive.
Reading Death Verdict solved this simply.
The moment you grab the throat, press both thumbs on the Tianrong acupoint. Strike the Tianding acupoint with both middle fingers.
The victim dies instantly upon contact.
One must know the exact points and train finger strength for lethal pressure, but... with a little practice, anyone could do it.
Death Verdict brimmed with such methods.
The fastest kill.
The pain-free kill.
He had stumbled upon Death Verdict by chance—a strange book that seemed like a martial arts manual but was not. Out of boredom, he practiced it... and that birthed Four Thousand Four.
"Your body's in good shape."
"I worked as a messenger."
"Looking at you, I can tell you did well."
"I ran more and harder than kids my age."
"Messengers suffer, but the pay's decent? They say once you build trust, you're better off than most merchants."
"Heh! It paid alright."
Four Thousand Four laughed.
He had not run for fun. He ran to eat and survive. A boy not yet ten stuffed a few frozen rice balls and a letter into his clothes and traversed a hundred li.
The few coppers he earned were snatched by gamblers.
The boy had no choice but to run. He ran and ran. Running made him faster, and speed meant more jobs.
Messengers lived on the roads.
Like most who lived on the roads, the boy faced many dangers. Thieves like Fox, bandits like Wild Boar, ruffians... countless people tripped him up.
So he learned to hide.
Hiding was not hard. Following Death Verdict taught it naturally.
Do you know the fastest, most comfortable way to kill? Ambush. Assassination. Strike without being seen. The target feels like they've been hit by lightning and dies without a scream.
Those who hide well strike well.
After learning to run and hide, people appeared begging him to kill.
He did not want to kill... truly did not... but they pleaded.
So he killed.
But killing a person... a person killing another... it was monumental.
From the moment of killing, everything changed. The world he knew vanished, replaced by another. Peaceful days fled, leaving only a hell teeming with demons.
Killing meant entering hell.
After killing, the boy could not return to normal life.
He wandered hell instead. He kept killing, growing accustomed after one, two times, then seeking better ways. And killed again.
Eventually, he grew numb to killing and the sight of the dying.
It was something he had forgotten for a while.
If the old woman had not touched his body, praising its firmness and quality, it might not have resurfaced.
As she removed the needle from the Yongquan point on his sole, the old woman asked,
"How'd you get into killing?"
Four Thousand Four did not answer.
Memories surfaced unbidden, but he refused to dwell on them. He just wanted to forget.
Yet he could not.
Even a casual question brought them back vivid as if fresh.
'I shouldn't have met that man.'
He met one person.
The man deciphered Death Verdict for the young boy. Explained in detail the ways to kill—and the fastest ones at that.
Teaching a child killing methods... the man was not sane. No need to mince words: he was mad. Utterly mad.
Only a madman would do such a thing.
Yes. Death Verdict passed from madman to madman. It could never go to the sane.
Ask about killing, and that man came to mind.
An old man nearing a hundred, almost.
Teeth all gone, speech leaking through gaps; eyes dull gray, lusterless; unwashed stench of breath and sweat choking the air.
The old man passed him Death Verdict.
The old man... a killer of over a thousand, never once suspected.
He thought he had forgotten Death Verdict and the old man in the Nineteen Hells. They no longer came to mind. Forgetting was enough. He was content.
But all that effort crumbled in an instant.
The old woman merely mentioned "killing," and the old man resurfaced. Death Verdict too.
- Kekeke! Congratulations. You're now the scum even hell's denizens despise. Kekeke?!
"You should unblock the seal more slowly."
As Four Thousand Four clammed up about killing, the old woman changed the subject.
That was better. But best would be no questions at all.
She could not stay silent while needling, moxibustion, and pushing palace-over-acupoints, but... silence would be ideal.
The old woman said,
"Your condition's too poor. In this state... suddenly opening blocked points could backfire."
"It's fine."
"Even if I go slow?"
"I can barely move anyway."
"Others are desperate to unblock even a moment sooner. Thanks to you, I've got it easy."
After removing the needles, the old woman began massaging each point with her fingers.
Death Verdict had a section on treating injuries.
Mostly ways to staunch bleeding fast, set broken bones, forget pain.
The injury treatment chapter focused on immediate effects.
A sword wound? No blood flows. Shattered bone? Set instantly. Only then could one flee at once. Without blood trails or footprints.
Even fleeing, if caught, it was death. Better to die on the spot and save strength. But Death Verdict's injury chapter detailed trace-free escape methods.
And something even funnier.
Death Verdict feared exposure more than death.
Lose life if you must. But never reveal identity. Even dying, flee to a secluded spot undetected.
That was the core of the injury chapter.
Neither the old man nor Four Thousand Four had honor to uphold. Caught killing and executed? No one would shed a tear.
No need to bother fleeing.
Nor families to protect.
Branded killers? Sacrifice one life, done. No one suffered for their murders.
Even if exposed, fleeing was preferable.
Yet Death Verdict claimed death better than exposure.
And the injury chapter overflowed with methods to reach seclusion: forgetting pain, suppressing blood temporarily, moving despite broken limbs—unbelievable techniques.
One more thing!
The highlight of the injury chapter: ways to mutilate one's own body upon death.
Mangle the face, the body...
Ensure no one recognizes you. No one knows whose corpse it is.
It guarded ruthlessly against discovery.
Four Thousand Four reviewed the injury chapter meticulously.
He sifted through every treatment he knew.
But none aided true healing. Quite useful for escape, though.
He rested deeply, relying on the old woman until his body recovered.