Chapter Six: The Severed Blade

“How dare you pull a knife on me!” Butcher Zhou’s eyes flashed with a murderous gleam. With a thunderous roar, he launched a heavy fist, hurtling straight for his opponent.

Ke Bei’s eyes narrowed to slits. The broadsword in his hand slid upward in a natural, slanting arc. Before Butcher Zhou’s fist could unleash its power, a rusted blade appeared above it, blocking the punch entirely.

Butcher Zhou snorted coldly and withdrew his fist, his face clouded with anger. The force he prided himself on was rendered useless. This feeling of powerlessness infuriated him.

Ke Bei’s lips curled as he watched Butcher Zhou draw his fist back to his waist. This was the blade technique left behind by his bearded father—a technique Ke Bei had only mastered the first form of, which he named “Intercepting Blade.”

The principle behind “Intercepting Blade” was simple: halt the opponent’s power before it could erupt, preventing them from unleashing their full strength.

Butcher Zhou was a first-level gene-enhanced fighter, his physical strength three times greater than Ke Bei’s. Yet, through the use of “Intercepting Blade,” Ke Bei was able to cut off his power at the very moment it began to surge.

Thus, despite his superior physique, Butcher Zhou’s actual strength didn’t surpass that of an average person. Naturally, Ke Bei no longer feared him.

“You’re looking for death!”

The frustration of being unable to release his power drove Butcher Zhou into a rage. Eyes bulging, he roared, stamping his left foot and pivoting on it. Drawing strength from the spin, his right leg swept out like an iron whip.

“Idiot,” Ke Bei spat, stepping decisively forward. As Butcher Zhou began his rotation, his right leg had yet to be unleashed when Ke Bei’s broadsword was already horizontal, barring its path less than a hand’s breadth away.

“Die!” Butcher Zhou shouted, his eyes red with fury. Driven mad by Ke Bei’s tactics, he was now determined to kill, even at the cost of injury.

Coldly, Ke Bei watched the berserk Butcher Zhou advance. With a sudden slash at Zhou’s right leg, he retreated swiftly.

A dull chop and a thud resounded almost simultaneously. Ke Bei’s blade struck Butcher Zhou’s right leg, while Zhou’s fist landed on Ke Bei’s chest. Fortunately, Ke Bei had already retreated, absorbing most of the impact, but even so, the force—three times that of an ordinary man—sent him staggering, pain shooting through his chest.

“Still lacking…” Ke Bei gripped his chest, frowning with dissatisfaction, not even glancing at Butcher Zhou, whose calf now bled freely from the wound. “If only I’d drawn back my blade sooner, I could have blocked that punch,” Ke Bei reflected.

“You little bastard, I’ll kill you!” Butcher Zhou, eyes bloodshot, lunged on one leg.

“Look out!” Li Qianqian, standing nearby with her hand over her mouth, cried out as Zhou’s fist was about to smash into Ke Bei’s head, who seemed lost in thought and unmoved.

The wind of Zhou’s fist howled. Ke Bei had no time to bring up his blade, yet he kept his head bowed, lost in contemplation, oblivious to the looming threat and Li Qianqian’s warning.

At the critical moment, Ke Bei’s head snapped up. With a sharp whistle, a flash of steel streaked through the air.

A three-inch throwing knife pierced straight through Butcher Zhou’s throat.

His fist fell limply. Clutching his neck, Zhou’s eyes went wide in disbelief. He was not a Red-haired Zombie; though his strength was similar, his defenses were much weaker. Ke Bei’s knife had severed the great artery in his neck, and blood spurted wildly.

With a final spasm, Butcher Zhou’s body collapsed to the ground, lips quivering wordlessly. He struggled for a few moments, his pupils dimming, and thus, a once-feared tyrant of the Slum Maze fell beneath Ke Bei’s flying blade.

“Come with me,” Ke Bei said impassively, sparing a single glance at the corpse before addressing Li Qianqian, who trembled beside him. Nearly a million commoners lived in this warren; deaths were a daily occurrence, and none paid much mind.

“Okay,” Li Qianqian replied softly, carefully skirting around the corpse to follow Ke Bei out.

Old Man Li gripped the ten crystal coins in his fist, glanced at Butcher Zhou’s stiffening body, and gave it a savage kick. Producing a tattered sack from who-knows-where, he bundled the corpse inside. Deaths were commonplace in the Maze; Old Man Li had seen too many to count. Disposing of bodies was routine—just haul them to the abandoned hillock in the southwest and burn them.

Ke Bei led Li Qianqian back to his own quarters, handing her the key to the door.

“From now on, this is your home. There’s water and food inside. Eat when you’re hungry. I’m heading out and may return late.”

With that, Ke Bei left for the city outskirts. The system’s task required him to slay three hundred Red-haired Zombies within ten days; four days had already passed, and he’d only killed two. Six days remained.

“Time is tight,” Ke Bei thought, clenching his fists, his face grave.

In three months, the once-in-seventy-years Purge would arrive. As a resident of the Slum Maze, if he wished to remain in Lingfeng City, he had to hunt one thousand Red-haired Zombies and trade the red crystal coins for enough contribution points.

“Three months. One thousand coins. I need to kill at least a dozen a day.”

He glanced at the thirty throwing knives at his hip and let out a slow breath.

“Killing a dozen Red-haired Zombies daily isn’t too difficult with my flying knives; the real challenge is this current task.”

Ke Bei frowned. “Three hundred zombies in six days—at least fifty a day!”

He shook his head with a wry smile. Averaging fifty zombies a day—how could that be easy?

His main method for killing zombies was still his throwing knives. The “Intercepting Blade” was powerful, but with his current physique, engaging Red-haired Zombies in close combat was unwise.

The “Intercepting Blade” was for saving his life; the throwing knives were the true killing move.

But he couldn’t throw knives endlessly; his strength was limited. Once he exceeded his physical limits, his accuracy would plummet. Out in the wasteland, a normal man like Ke Bei losing his aim meant certain death.

“I’ll risk it this once. If I can complete this mission, perhaps I’ll draw something good from the system. If my strength leaps forward, hunting zombies will become much easier!”

The memory of the last time—when the Purple Cloud Divine Art appeared—set Ke Bei’s heart ablaze. He glanced at the towering walls of Lingfeng City and set out toward Chen Village.

From afar, a solitary, lonely figure could be seen hunched over, making his way slowly down the broken road.