Chapter 22 - 22 14 First Kill

22: Chapter 14 First Kill 22: Chapter 14 First Kill Editor: Henyee Translations “Sharp enough!” Qin Ming rose from beside the whetstone.

The rust on his woodcutting knife had been completely polished away.

Its surface is now smooth as a mirror, like a pool of still autumn water.

“Feng Yian, Shao Chengfeng…

People like them deserve to die.

But if someone decent dies along with them, that’d be a shame,” he murmured.

He wanted clarity.

He needed to know for sure.

That evening, Old Liu was drinking with Xu Yueping.

They each had only a single cup, sipping slowly to savor what little was left as their jar of spicy aged liquor was down to its final drops.

“A whole deer for a human life… Utterly inhuman!” Old Liu cursed between sips.

His chest was heavy with anger, but he couldn’t share the truth with Qian’s family.

What Xu Yueping feared most was that Feng Yian or Shao Chengfeng might achieve a second rebirth.

That would make everything even worse.

“Is there no one decent in the entire patrol group?” Qin Ming arrived.

Old Liu sighed, “If most of the pears in a basket are rotten, and no one intervenes, the rest won’t last either.

The group can have up to twelve members.

Right now, there are only nine.

Those who didn’t fit in either got pushed out or had ‘accidents’ in the mountains.”

“No one can check or confront them?” Qin Ming asked casually.

Xu Yueping gave the wine jar a few hard shakes, managing to pour out a little for Qin Ming, and motioned for him to join them.

Old Liu thought for a moment.

“Some of the other patrol teams aren’t on good terms with them.

Some can’t stand them; others have fought over mountain resources.

There’s been bloodshed between groups before.”

Xu Yueping added, “And Qingsang Village nearby wasn’t forced to plant Black Moon.

That relative of Er Bingzi there must be really capable.” Then he looked at Qin Ming.

“Qin, with your solid golden foundation, it’s time to make a plan.

When spring comes, you should head out and see the world.

Don’t get stuck here.” He feared for Qin Ming’s future; afraid those wolfish patrolmen might target him next.

Qin Ming thought for a moment and said, “A plan…?

I want to know where I originally fled from during the famine.”

“Ah, you’ve never brought that up, and I almost forgot.

I’ve always just seen you as one of us,” Xu Yueping said, unsure how to comfort him.

He changed the topic.

He spoke of Chixia City’s brilliance, its prosperity, its gifted talents, and the potential to learn advanced meditation and qi cultivation techniques.

Old Liu chimed in, “I support it too, Qin.

Young people should be sharp and full of dreams.

Otherwise, you’ll be like me, too old to travel, left with nothing but regrets.”

Xu Yueping grinned, “Uncle Liu, I heard you had big ambitions back in the day.”

Old Liu wasn’t embarrassed.

“Who didn’t when they were young?”

“What were your goals?” Qin Ming asked curiously.

Old Liu reminisced, “Back then, I was brash and bold.

I wanted to rise, subdue a notable beast in the mountains, and marry the prettiest girl in the area.”

“And… How’d that go?”

“There was a joint operation with the patrol group.

We accidentally encountered that beast.

It charged through us and nearly wiped us all out.

I was badly injured and could no longer reach the threshold for a second rebirth.

I gave up.

That girl?

My rival married her.”

Qin Ming raised his cup in salute.

“That’s rough.”

Old Liu chuckled.

“Later, out of spite, I married my rival’s older sister and made him call me brother-in-law for life.”

“You’ve got spirit!” Qin Ming laughed.

The three of them nursed only half a cup each, but it lasted them the whole evening.

Back home, Qin Ming wiped down his iron-backed bow, engraved with beast motifs.

Unfortunately, it was no longer a “hard bow” for him.

If he pulled too hard, he’d snap it.

“Still usable.” Then he filled his beast-hide quiver with iron arrows and packed a set of spare clothes into his bundle.

“Tomorrow’s the mid-month,” he murmured, staring at the deep night sky.

That night, he went to bed early, focusing on getting his mind and body into peak condition.

He woke during the second half of the night, rested and ready.

Although it wasn’t even Shallow Night yet, he silently pushed open his courtyard door.

The world was silent.

The darkness was dense and chilling.

An ordinary person wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

But after his rebirth, Qin Ming’s senses had been enhanced, including his eyesight.

Even in this near-absolute darkness, he could make out vague shapes.

It didn’t hinder his movement.

He didn’t pass by the fire spring, instead, he took the most secluded trail around the back.

It had been snowing for days, and the snowfall only seemed to be getting heavier.

His long black hair fluttered in the night wind.

His body was tall and lean, strong and steady, his steps firm as he walked deep into the mountains.

The faces of the wounded villagers flashed through his mind.

So did the moment when Feng Yian handed over a deer at Uncle Qian’s funeral.

The bitterness had taken root in his chest.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Tonight, he would deal with the patrol team.

Qin Ming entered the mountains calmly, without hesitation.

He had long been prepared.

There was no fear, no anxiety.

Only the sense of returning to the place where he belonged.

From the depths of the forest came all manner of howls.

Shadows flitted across the sky.

In that abyssal darkness, many hostile eyes appeared.

Some blood-red, some ghost-green, some silver-white.

They all locked onto him.

He could even hear the beasts breathing, hear the cries of raptors cleaving the air, all so terrifyingly close.

Then, Qin Ming suddenly accelerated.

His speed is beyond the limits of a golden foundation.

He dashed toward a large, mutated beast.

His woodcutting knife slashed out like a bolt of lightning.

Shlick!

A massive head flew.

Blood sprayed, and the six-hundred-pound corpse crashed to the ground.

Silence fell.

Every glowing eye in the darkness—green, red, silver—vanished at once.

Qin Ming pressed on, heading toward the patrol group’s base.

Moments later, the headless corpse was torn apart by scavengers, their snarls echoing through the forest.

Qin Ming arrived at a nearby mountain peak and looked toward the base nestled around a fire spring.

It wasn’t Shallow Night yet, but figures were already stirring.

A tall, curly-haired man—nearly two meters—was feeding chunks of raw meat to the ferocious golden mastiff.

“Fu Entao,” Qin Ming recognized him.

He had heard descriptions of this captain: his curly hair, his build.

The strongest among them is already here.

Then he spotted four more figures, including Feng Yian and Shao Chengfeng, stepping out of the cabins.

“They got here early,” Qin Ming muttered.

Probably arrived yesterday.

He wasn’t in a rush.

Instead, he moved to a choke point leading to the base.

Four patrol members were still unaccounted for.

He would take them out first.

Snow had turned his black hair white.

He stood silently.

The fog thinned with the coming shallow night, and the darkness wasn’t so oppressive anymore.

For someone reborn, visibility was good.

Qin Ming saw a man approach, cloaked in a beast’s hide.

He recognized him.

This one had stood behind Feng Yian during the humiliation in Yinteng Town.

Like an ice statue, Qin Ming moved.

With a burst like thunder, he appeared before the man and rammed into him with bone-crushing force.

The man’s bones cracked in multiple places.

His eyes bulged in agony, but before he could scream, a strong, slender hand gripped his neck.

Crack!

His neck snapped.

Qin Ming had squeezed so hard that the spine nearly tore free.

The man’s head flopped to the side, held by little more than skin.

His face was frozen in terror and disbelief.

Qin Ming dragged him into the woods.

The man reeked of alcohol and perfume.

No wonder his reflexes had dulled.

A hangover from indulgence.

He died a deserved death.

After a quick search, Qin Ming discarded the body and took a deep breath.

His emotions fluctuated.

It was his first time killing a person.

Even though he was mentally prepared, it still hit him.

But he quickly composed himself.

He’d hunted countless beasts.

He could handle this.

His resolve was steel.

“You killed villagers to plant Black Moon.

You’re worse than the monsters in the mountains.

Tonight, I’ll wipe you all out.

I’ve made up my mind.”

Calm again, Qin Ming saw these patrolmen for what they were—monsters in human skin.

He waited.

The second target approached through the snow.

Broad-shouldered, armored like Shao Chengfeng.

Qin Ming unsheathed his woodcutting knife, blade gleaming beneath the snow.

As the man neared, a flash of silver exploded in the dark.

Qin Ming launched forward like lightning, closing ten meters a heartbeat.

This patrolman reacted better.

He sensed the deadly danger and tried to dodge by leaping sideways and diving to the ground.

For an ordinary opponent, it might’ve worked.

But Qin Ming was faster—blindingly fast.

He had already predicted the move.

The blade flashed—shlick!—the man’s head flew off.

Blood sprayed far, painting the snow crimson.

The body crumpled face-first into a drift.

Qin Ming sheathed his blade calmly and steadily.

The heavy snowfall wasn’t drifting anymore.

It came pounding down, wind slapping his face with an icy sting.

He looked up at the sky.

“Came at the right time.”

Wind and snow would cover his tracks.

He stood like a statue, motionless with a blade in hand.

Two more patrolmen came, one after the other.

Both died to his silent, sudden strikes.

He felt no discomfort anymore.

He could still smile gently at little Wenrui.

And he could march into the mountains, blade in hand, and slaughter the patrolmen more dangerous than wild beasts.

Qin Ming walked on—steady, unwavering—toward the patrol base.

Alone.

Resolute.