Translator: Cinder Translations
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In the next second, he turned and ran.
He saw the middle-aged woman already pulling out the spear from behind her, her face covered in blood, chasing after him.
The black-faced man under Fatty felt extremely frustrated. He could sense that Fatty had no martial training, just brute strength.
But they were too close to each other, and his staff was lost during the fight. It became a matter of throwing punches at each other.
There was no strategy—just a test of endurance.
He had clearly underestimated Fatty. Fatty grabbed his neck with one hand, and with the other clenched into a fist, he began to relentlessly punch his face.
With every punch, he yelled that the man would pay with his life, and the black-faced man's nostrils started bleeding.
In desperation, the black-faced man reached out to grab Fatty's face, apparently trying to gouge his eyes out. But Fatty didn't dodge at all; he opened his mouth wide and bit down on the black-faced man's hand, causing him to scream in pain.
Fatty took the opportunity to grab a handful of dirt and shove it into the man's mouth.
He continued to punch the black-faced man in the face, his eyes wide with rage.
Meanwhile, someone tried to rush to help the black-faced man but was stopped by Jiang Cheng, who landed a punch on a man resembling a thin monkey, almost snapping his neck.
After witnessing their brutal skills, the remaining members of the group were already filled with fear. The moment they saw An Xuan catch one of their men and slowly slit his throat, like slaughtering livestock, their morale completely collapsed.
An Xuan flicked the blood off his knife as if tossing away trash and let the already dead man fall to the ground.
The life quickly faded from the man's eyes.
Stepping over the corpse, An Xuan walked toward the steward, Zhou.
With the knife still dripping blood, the few remaining soldiers huddled around Zhou, constantly retreating.
They were no longer the arrogant group they had been when they first arrived.
Jiang Cheng and Xia Meng had suffered minor injuries. Xia Meng had a small cut on her leg, and blood seeped out with the slightest movement.
Jiang Cheng was slightly better off, the injury on his arm less severe.
He hadn't expected that among these people, someone would use hidden weapons.
Jiang Cheng chased the man for two rounds before finally catching him and returning the hidden weapon to its owner.
On Fatty's side, things had come to an end. He staggered out, his face and head covered in blood, his costume torn to shreds.
With little effort, they made quick work of the remaining men, cutting them down like vegetables.
One man, whose arm had been broken, was still not dead, crawling toward Jiang Cheng, opening his mouth as if trying to bite him. But Jiang Cheng raised his foot and silenced him with a kick.
Fatty was holding a brick covered in sticky blood, his eyes red as he prepared to settle the score with Zhou, the true culprit behind all of this.
Staring at the screams and lifeless bodies on the ground, Jiang Cheng's expression grew strange. He stopped Fatty, his gaze resting on Zhou's face.
Wasn't this a little too much?
When they first fought, these people should have known they weren't their match, but they still threw themselves at them. Even now, when they had been almost wiped out, none of them tried to run away.
Why?
Some of the injured, still barely breathing, weren't pretending to be dead to escape—they still struggled to get up and try to fight.
In fact, the outcome didn't have to be so ugly. If most of them had just run, the others wouldn't have bothered to chase them.
Taking advantage of the moment, Zhou reached into his sleeve and pulled out a knife, suddenly lunging toward An Xuan. But An Xuan had anticipated the move, sidestepping it and grabbing Zhou's arm. With a loud snap, it broke.
Zhou fell to the ground, desperately trying to grab the dropped knife.
His gaze was filled with determination, a cold and chilling resolve.
"Stop!" a voice, tinged with desperation, shouted—it was the middle-aged woman's voice.
Two figures emerged from the darkness.
One ahead, one behind: Chen Qiang, whom they hadn't seen for a while, and the middle-aged woman.
A knife was pressed against Chen Qiang's neck, held by the middle-aged woman. His face was one of awkwardness.
To be precise, he was being taken hostage.
"Let him go!" The middle-aged woman glanced at the fallen Zhou and then looked at An Xuan, shouting, "Otherwise, I'll kill him!"
The blade drew closer to Chen Qiang's neck.
But what surprised the middle-aged woman was that, except for Fatty, whose eyes were bloodshot and fixated on Zhou's body, seemingly ready to tear him apart, the rest of the group remained calm, unfazed by her threat.
They didn't seem intimidated by her or the hostage—Chen Qiang.
"I told you," Chen Qiang raised his hand and said with a wry smile, "It's useless to capture me."
"Shut up!"
Chen Qiang swallowed, reluctantly falling silent.
He first made eye contact with An Xuan, then quickly turned his gaze away, landing it on Jiang Cheng. "Mr. Hao," he said sincerely, "You saw it. The item is not on me; I've hidden it. If I die, I worry you won't find it in time."
Jiang Cheng thought for a moment before replying, "Don't worry. We'll take our time searching. We'll find it in time."
Chen Qiang: ...
The middle-aged woman seemed to have lost her resolve. She had originally thought that taking a hostage would deter the others.
But clearly, she had overestimated the value of her hostage.
She wished now that she had taken someone else.
After a long silence, Xia Meng spoke up, suggesting, "How about this? We each take a step back. You give us the person, and we'll give you this one." She looked at the middle-aged woman. "What do you think?"
Looking at Zhou, who was suffering on the ground, the middle-aged woman agreed without hesitation, "Fine." She glared at the group. "It's a deal!"
"It's a deal," Xia Meng nodded.
Zhou stumbled to his feet and wobbled toward the middle-aged woman. In turn, she released the knife from Chen Qiang's neck.
Turning around, the middle-aged woman extended her hand to help Zhou, but in the next second, a flash of cold light streaked through Zhou's vision.
Warm blood splattered across his face.
A knife's blade was buried deep in the middle-aged woman's throat, with only the trembling handle visible.
Life quickly faded from her eyes, and she collapsed to the ground.
Zhou reached out, but his hand froze mid-air.
Taking advantage of the moment, Chen Qiang sprinted toward Jiang Cheng. When he reached their side, he looked back at the woman on the ground, her body soaked in blood.
An Xuan's strike had been precise and merciless, leaving no room for error.
"Mother!"
The door swung open, and a small figure rushed in, screaming as she fell to her knees beside the dead woman.
Fatty paused for a moment.
It was Xiao Wan.
TL/N: My dear readers, it would be really appreciated if you left some reviews.
(End of the Chapter)
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