Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: [Undisclosed]
Chapter Title: No Pardon for Thieves of Fate
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Chen Shi wiped the blood from the small knife on his sleeve cuff, gazing at the corpses strewn haphazardly across the camp. His face was as calm as still water.
"Confucius said, 'Since you've come here, then make yourself at home.' Your duty was to protect my enemy, so your deaths are hardly unjust."
He walked toward Li Xiaoding.
A single spell from Li Xiaoding could have killed him, yet he felt no fear whatsoever. He didn't know where this surge of confidence came from, but he was absolutely certain he could take Li Xiaoding down before the man could cast.
It was strange—this was his first time killing anyone, but he felt not even a shred of fear. The moment his hand closed around the knife hilt, his mind focused solely on the fastest way to eliminate his foe.
Blackie Pot still crouched by the table, staring blankly at the sprawled bodies all around. It hadn't yet come back to its senses.
—It couldn't reconcile this ruthless, decisive youth with its little master at all.
The old Chen Shi had been a mischievous prankster, a cheerful boy without a care in the world. But now? Chen Shi was a god of slaughter!
"Thud!" "Thud!" "Thud!"
Chen Shi hammered out punch after punch. With every raise of his hand or foot, he unleashed a force of a thousand jun, shattering the Golden Light Great Bell outright. He strode up to Li Xiaoding.
He was much shorter than Li Xiaoding, barely reaching the man's chest. Yet Li Xiaoding reeled from his sheer presence, stumbling back before collapsing to the ground with a thud. Propping himself up with both hands, he shuffled backward, eyes wide with terror.
"B-brother, don't—don't..."
Chen Shi seized him by the collar, trying to haul him to his feet. But whether Li Xiaoding was simply too heavy or Chen Shi had exhausted himself in the fight, he couldn't manage it.
After all, this was his first time killing. He'd wiped out his enemies without noticing the strain at the time, but now that it sank in, a wave of weakness crashed over him.
His hands felt sore and shaky. Chen Shi drew a deep breath and circulated the Three Lights Righteous Qi Art, easing the fatigue somewhat.
That battle had looked swift and clean, but it had drained him immensely. He was ravenous now, craving food.
"Don't kill me!"
Li Xiaoding burst into sobs, a wet stain spreading across his crotch.
His cultivation realm outstripped Chen Shi's by far. His true qi was orders of magnitude denser. He even carried talismans for protection. And yet terror had gripped him—he'd lost every ounce of fighting spirit.
He dangled like a lamb to the slaughter in Chen Shi's grasp.
"You stole my Divine Embryo. You think you'll live?"
Chen Shi gnashed his teeth, snarling viciously.
"My skull was pried open by the expert you hired. They took my Divine Embryo. You never dreamed I'd survive, did you? You should've rammed a stick into my brain right then and churned it to pulp! But you left me one breath—and now I'm here for revenge!"
Li Xiaoding went limp, his face ashen white.
His talent had never been impressive. He spent his days carousing, barely cultivating. He'd never formed his own Divine Embryo. Forget juren—even his xiucai degree had been bought with family coin.
His family hadn't fretted over it, never pushed him to study diligently. So he'd reveled in his idle bliss.
That changed one day when his third uncle brought a fresh Divine Embryo. With a secretive grin, the man promised that transplanting it into his Divine Shrine would catapult him straight to Divine Embryo Realm. Passing the juren exam? Child's play. Forming a Golden Core for even greater heights? Within reach!
When he pressed for the Embryo's origins, his uncle brushed it off—no need to worry, everything was handled. So he transplanted it without a second thought.
Sure enough, he aced the provincial exam. Tales of his genius spread far and wide. Noble houses took notice. Even daughters of great clans cast admiring glances his way.
But who'd have thought his uncle botched the job? The victim lived—cultivated some devilish art, slaughtered all his Embroidered Uniform Guards, and now hungered for his blood!
"Do you have any idea how I've lived these past two years?"
Chen Shi growled viciously.
"How much suffering? How much humiliation..."
Li Xiaoding shuddered violently, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. He stammered,
"Wait—s-strong one..."
Calling this boy in his early teens a "strong one" felt absurd, but he pressed on desperately.
"Wait, strong one! Were you robbed of your Divine Embryo two years ago? I only transplanted someone else's last year! Strong one!"
Trembling yet bold, he added,
"Did... did you get the wrong man?"
Chen Shi paused mid-rant. His heart lurched; his killing intent ebbed. Suspiciously, he asked,
"You're saying you only transplanted someone else's Divine Embryo last year?"
Li Xiaoding nodded furiously, his face a twisted mask of forced mirth and misery. He wailed,
"After the transplant last year, I sat for the provincial exam and became a juren! It's all on record—just ask around!"
Chen Shi froze. His grip slackened, dropping Li Xiaoding.
Li Xiaoding hit the dirt hard but ignored the pain, babbling on.
"If you lost yours two years back, it wasn't me. It wasn't my Li family. A Divine Embryo doesn't survive long outside the body—it dissipates! Yours couldn't have lasted a year!"
"Impossible...?"
Chen Shi faltered, mumbling,
"So you're not the thief who took mine. I killed the wrong person?"
Li Xiaoding snapped, exasperated.
"Wrong? You butchered my seven Embroidered Uniform Guards! Nearly got me too! And you killed the Ding family's Purple Calyx girl!"
Chen Shi's expression flickered darkly.
He'd heard from Second Miss Zhao and the others about Li Xiaoding's meteoric rise at the provincial exam. They'd speculated he must've stolen Chen Shi's Divine Embryo. From that moment, he'd marked this Li scion as his sworn foe.
But looking back... it had only been a guess.
"So I did kill the wrong person..." Chen Shi muttered.
"You absolutely did!"
Li Xiaoding fumed, griping,
"Why didn't you just ask first...?"
"Shk—"
A cold gleam slashed across his throat. Li Xiaoding froze, clutching his neck. Gurgles escaped as blood gushed forth.
Blood flooded his lungs, forcing coughs that bubbled from the gash and his mouth.
Chen Shi wiped the fresh blood from his knife on his sleeve and glanced at the writhing man.
"But I didn't kill the wrong sort after all. It might not have been my Divine Embryo you stole, but you preyed on some other genius. He wasn't as lucky as me—I survived. He didn't. Fiends like you deserve death!"
Chen Shi turned to the table, sliding the knife into his book chest. He packed his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, then shouldered the chest, muttering to himself,
"I've avenged him. Shame I can't slaughter every noble who crushes poor scholars' futures—and lives!"
He slung the chest onto his back and promptly staggered. His stomach rumbled fiercely; hunger gnawed from chest to spine.
Just then, the aroma of stew wafted over. Chen Shi followed it to a yurt, where a massive pot bubbled. Li Xiaoding and his crew had hunted some beast, butchered it, and set it to boil. The meat was done.
He lifted the lid. Chunks of meat floated in the pot—fatty and lean mingled, bones nestled amid them. Bubbles rose from the bottom, jiggling the sauce-red slabs.
He ought to flee this den of trouble pronto, lest someone stumble on the scene and complicate things. But hunger pinned him in place. He flung the lid aside, gripped the pot's handles with both hands, and hauled the whole vat to the table.
"Thud!"
He slammed it down, dropped his book chest, and perched atop it. Plunging in a hand, he scooped meat, heedless of the heat. He devoured it in huge bites, stripping fat and lean with his tongue before spitting the bones with a "pah!"
Blackie Pot shook off the battle's shock, still quivering. But beast instincts kicked in at the sight of those bones on the ground—it lunged to snatch them.
"No spine at all."
Chen Shi chuckled, hefting the pot to dump half the meat onto the dirt.
"Eat up. Chow down quick—get full for the road ahead."
Blackie Pot shivered, wondering if "the road" meant shouldering the pot to send it packing.
But no—little master wouldn't mean that. Besides, as a dog, it couldn't haul this pot anyway. Reassured, it tucked in boldly.
Man and dog—one at the table, one below—gorged themselves.
Soon sated, Chen Shi shouldered his chest and scanned the camp. No sign of Li Xiaoding or his crew's ghosts. Odd.
"Did Grandpa not lie to me after all? Is there truly some nether force dragging souls to the underworld? Then why weren't Scholar Zhu and those three water ghosts summoned?"
He whistled for Blackie Pot and headed out of camp.
Too much meat had left Chen Shi parched. He spotted fruits spilled from Purple Calyx's basket—one big sweet melon intact. He snatched it up, smashed it open with a fist, and chomped greedily as he marched from camp with Blackie Pot in tow. His figure melted into the mountain woods.
"By nightfall, when the moon rises and evils prowl, these corpses will vanish. No skill under heaven will trace this back to me!"
Ere long, Chen Shi emerged from the woods. A wooden cart waited by the roadside, Grandpa in his conical hat seated nearby—as if he'd known the boy would exit precisely here.
Chen Shi blinked in surprise and approached.
Grandpa tossed over some clothes.
"Change. Bloodstains—they'll track you down."
Chen Shi nodded obediently, stripping off his soiled garb and donning the fresh set. He pondered the bloody rags when suddenly they burst into flame, crumbling swiftly to ash.
He knew Grandpa's doing and inwardly praised him.
"Confucius said not to gaze on impropriety. If no one sees, it's no crime. Grandpa's thorough—bet he pulled plenty of shady deeds back in the day!"
He hadn't spotted whether it was a spell or something else.
Grandson climbed aboard the cart. Talismans on the wheels glowed faintly, and it rumbled off along the post road toward Huangpo Village.
"You play talisman master over there this time—get paid?"
"Yep."
"How much from the wronged soul?"
"Fifty taels of silver. Big ingot like this."
"Hand it over. I'll keep it safe."
"...Grandpa, I'd rather hold it myself."
"Kids' fists are leaky. Money slips right through five fingers spread wide. Grandpa's grip? Ironclad. Give it here—I'll save it, not squander a copper. For when you grow up and wed. You think I'd covet your coin?"
"Nope."
Chen Shi surrendered the silver ingot, daydreaming of his future bride.