The homeowners sat on the floor, their faces splattered with blood, while red puddles spread across the wooden planks. Exhaling noisily, he left the house without delay and moved to the next one. With short dashes under cover of brush and buildings, Zhang Ming crossed the backyard and, leaping over a fence, crept up to the wall of the neighboring house. Pressing his back against it, he cautiously peeked through the wide-open doorway.

  Inside, four bandits were rummaging around. After a quick look, Zhang Ming silently stepped in and darted like lightning at the closest one. While the man was still drawing his axe, a sword pierced his throat. Shouts, the clash of steel, and the crash of breaking furniture could be heard even outside, but the chaos in the village drowned out the noise from the house. The mat that covered the window flew aside, and a bloodied head poked out, followed by a strong hand that dragged the body back in by the hair. Silence fell inside. Moments later, Zhang Ming stepped out with a cut on his shoulder.

  “Fifteen left,” he said, running his fingers over the torn cloth.

  While killing, Zhang Ming didn’t care who served Tu Hama and who had just joined the group for loot. He slaughtered everyone; in his mind, none of them deserved to live. Covered in blood like a reaper from the underworld, Zhang Ming sprinted across two yards toward a woman’s scream and approached a large barn. From inside came the sound of sobbing and sharp slaps. Three men were tormenting the house’s mistress, and the fear in her eyes gave them a sick sense of power and omnipotence.

  “Tried to hide, bitch? Ha-ha-ha!” one of them laughed. “I can smell sluts like you.”

  The woman had hidden in the hayloft, but the bandits found her. Dragging her out by the hair, they threw her to the ground and tore her clothes apart. She knew what would happen next but lacked the courage to bite off her tongue and die with dignity. Tears streamed down her battered face; her cracked lips trembled. One of the bastards began to grope her roughly, while the other two pinned her down.

  Then a silhouette flashed in the doorway, only for an instant, and the next moment, the heads of two bandits rolled off their shoulders, landing on the woman. From the shock, she lost consciousness as a fountain of blood sprayed through the air, soaking everyone nearby. The last thug jumped to his feet, reaching for his weapon, but a sword was already sticking out of his chest. He looked up at his killer with an expression of fear and desperate unwillingness to die.

  “You!” he growled, coughing blood.

  “Twelve left,” Zhang Ming whispered as he walked out of the barn and headed for the house.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” a bearded bandit stuck his head out the door, a large sack in his hand. “Aghk—khh—hh.”

  His teeth broke as the sword lodged itself straight into his mouth, and instead of any sound, only a wet gurgling came from his throat. He recognized his attacker, frowned, even tried to grab him by the clothes, but his hands no longer obeyed. Slumping against the wall, the bandit followed his killer with his eyes as he walked past him to the window, lifted the straw curtain with the tip of his sword, and looked out into the street.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A dull thud sounded behind him, the body hitting the floor, but Zhang Ming didn’t turn around. Four of Tu Hama’s henchmen were sprinting toward the house, shouting and waving their weapons, pointing at the window. Up the street, two more emerged from a yard, rushing to join them. Zhang Ming had no time for tricks; he burst out of the house and, like an arrow loosed from a bow, charged straight at them.

  “Zhang Ming, drop your sword! Then we won’t feed your corpse to the dogs!” shouted one of the bandits running ahead. “There’s more of us…”

  For just a moment, he turned to check on the others, then felt a cold touch on his neck. The horrified expressions of his companions froze him in place; the hairs on his body stood on end. A familiar silhouette flashed past him, but he somehow couldn’t raise his axe to strike. Warmth spread across his chest like a crimson waterfall, soaking his clothes, and then the world went black. As his consciousness faded, he heard the ringing of blows and pitiful screams.

  The difference between an ordinary man and a warrior who had reached the second stage of Body Tempering was staggering. The bandits couldn’t keep up with Zhang Ming and were far weaker. With a swift, furious rush, he crashed into them, slashing the first one’s neck before the man even reacted, then cleaving the second from shoulder to ribs, splitting both flesh and sword.

  Barely dodging a swinging axe, Zhang Ming slammed his shoulder into the third bandit, sending him flying. A spear shaft whistled over his head; he spun sharply, cut it clean in two like a branch, and drove his blade straight through the fourth man’s heart. Inner energy surged through him, feeding his strength; his muscles burned like fire, and each heartbeat thundered in his ears. With one leap, Zhang Ming was on top of the fallen enemy, stomping down with all his might. Ribs cracked under his heel.

  “Seven left,” he growled.

  The fight ended in a few breaths. The bandits rushing to help froze where they stood, shocked by the carnage before them. They flinched when the blood-drenched beast turned toward them, staring through tangled hair with a gaze that froze their souls. Pale with terror, two of them spun around and bolted, screaming. But after breaking through to the second stage of Body Tempering, Zhang Ming’s speed far surpassed that of ordinary men, they didn’t get far. The headless body of one stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing face-first into the dirt.

  “Don’t kill me! Mercy! I’m not with them!” shrieked the other, spinning around and thrusting his spear out in front of him. “You’ll be executed if they find out… wait! I’ll pay you! I’ll put in a word with the commander…”

  The sound of a bowstring cut through the air, and a moment later, Zhang Ming dropped to one knee from a sharp pain in his back. He heard the faint scrape of an arrow against leather, barely audible amid the chaos. The bowstring twanged again. Zhang Ming barely managed to dodge, then in a lightning motion deflected the incoming spearhead from the nearby bandit. In a single step, he was face to face with him, grabbed his throat, snapped his neck with one hand, and used the body as a shield. Another arrow whistled through the air, burying itself in the corpse, followed by a second.

  “Zhang Min! Traitor! Son of a bitch! First you poisoned my men, and now you murder the others,” came a familiar voice. “Don’t expect a quick death! You’ll beg me to kill you!”

  “Careful, sir! The bastard slaughtered the others!”

  “So you were hiding your strength?” Tu Hama snarled, ignoring his lackey.