Kill swiftly, and let the matter rest.
Hidden in the brush, Jiang Heng held his breath, waiting as his prey drew near.
Rat Li and the guard, oblivious to the danger, chatted and laughed, their voices crude and vile.
This was the miasma zone’s edge, less perilous. With their skills, they barely heeded the snakes or bugs, eager to return to camp.
Their footsteps grew louder, matching the thud of Jiang Heng’s heartbeat.
Their figures came into view.
He waited until they’d passed a few steps.
Then, he leapt from the brush.
The guard reacted fastest, hearing the rustle. He spun, hand on the hilt of his spring-blade saber.
But before he could draw, a lean, wiry figure loomed, raising a massive stone and smashing it down on his skull.
It was the last thing he saw.
The rough, mud-caked stone filled his vision, growing impossibly large.
Bang!
A dull thud.
The guard’s head shattered like an egg, blood and brains splattering in a gruesome spray.
As a mountain dweller, Jiang Heng had no proper weapons. The Division issued only wooden sickles, shovels, and insect nets—useless for killing.
So he’d dug up a hefty bluestone from the dirt.
Rough and filthy, but paired with [Barbarian Strength], it crushed skulls with ease.
“You… you…”
Rat Li’s face drained of color, his voice trembling. He hadn’t expected the sickly kid he’d scorned to become a ruthless predator, killing a stronger guard in one blow.
His pupils shrank, and he stumbled back.
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But Rat Li wasn’t some pushover. Shaking off the shock, he drew a dagger and lunged.
Too bad he underestimated Jiang Heng and overestimated himself.
Jiang Heng didn’t budge. His hand shot out like lightning, clamping Rat Li’s wrist.
With a slight twist, Rat Li squealed like a slaughtered pig, his dagger clanging to the ground.
“You…”
Rat Li’s shock deepened. His hand felt trapped in a steel vise, immovable.
How’s this kid so strong?!
What’s going on?!
Panic flooded him, but he had no time to think.
He knew—linger here, and he was dead.
“Brother Jiang, mercy! I was wrong, I swear! I’ll be your dog, your slave, anything!”
Tears and snot streamed down his face, his voice pitiful.
“Begging already? Didn’t you say you’d crush my skull and torment me?”
Jiang Heng sneered, slamming a kick into Rat Li’s gut, sending him sprawling a meter away.
Rat Li writhed, pain twisting his face, but terror gripped him harder.
He heard everything I said?!
Despite the agony, he rolled to his feet and bolted, desperation fueling a burst of speed.
But he was fast—Jiang Heng was faster.
“Running already? Come back and torment me proper.”
Jiang Heng smirked, closing the gap. A kick to Rat Li’s calf sent him crashing face-first into the dirt, blood streaming from his nose, a tooth knocked loose.
“Lord Jiang, Grandfather Jiang, spare me, please!”
Realizing escape was impossible, Rat Li kowtowed frantically, his head bobbing like a pestle.
But Jiang Heng knew mercy for scum like this was cruelty to himself.
Without a word, he raised the stone, [Barbarian Strength] surging. Ignoring Rat Li’s terrified screams, he smashed it down.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The dull thuds rang crisp in the silent forest.
Soon, Jiang Heng stood, wiping his hands. Rat Li and the guard were dead.
But he didn’t leave yet.
He rifled through their corpses.
The haul was rich.
The guard’s spring-blade saber, a standard Great Qing weapon, wasn’t a treasure but was sturdy and reliable. On the black market, it’d fetch two taels.
Rat Li’s dagger was lesser, worth maybe five hundred coppers.
More intriguing was a bone flute on Rat Li’s body, carved from what looked like human bone, radiating a cold, sinister aura.
Likely how he’d contacted the Witch Clan.
It could be valuable, but Jiang Heng knew too little to price it. He’d ask around when he hit the black market for a medicinal recipe.
The guard also had three hundred coppers in loose change.
Killing and looting’s not a bad gig.
If the flute’s worth five hundred coppers, that’s three taels and three hundred in total.
Jiang Heng grinned.
But the bodies posed a problem.
Their blood’s stench could draw spirit beasts. He didn’t want to linger.
After a quick scan, he dragged the corpses to a nearby cave and dumped them inside.
It’d buy him time if Zhao came sniffing.
With that, he left to find other mountain folk, asking them to pass a warning to Tian.
As dusk fell, Jiang Heng headed to a cave he’d scouted as a temporary hideout.
Night in the miasma forest was too dangerous for treasure-hunting—not yet, at least.
From now on, he was no mountain dweller. He was a fugitive of Great Qing, or a dead man in their eyes.
The world had changed.
As for Tian, Jiang Heng had done what he could. Whether the guard survived was up to fate.
