Chapter 10

Shaowei appeared far too suddenly; her move was an unexpectedly ruthless killing strike, one ordinary people would find very hard to dodge.

But Qin Fu had dominated this bandit stronghold built on violence for many years, so he was by no means comparable to an ordinary person.

He stood eight chi tall, broad and powerfully built, ruthless and seasoned, with extremely fast reactions; just as the dagger in Shaowei's hand was about to touch his neck, he leaned back to dodge while simultaneously swinging his arm to block her wrist; his strength was immense, the dagger fell from Shaowei's hand, and the next instant he had seized her throat and slammed her to the ground.

Even though the eleven-year-old Shaowei was sturdier than ordinary children, she was still just a child; pinned to the ground by the throat by the tall, burly Qin Fu, she seemed as weak as a civet cat.

Qin Fu glared at her: "Little beast... do you really think that just because a few bowls of blood flow in your veins, I won't kill you?"

He knew this "little cat" would scratch and bite from time to time, and when truly vicious would even leave two bloody gashes on him, but she had never dared go for his throat — the "little cat" was certainly desperate enough, but because the "mother cat" was in his hands, the former remained fairly obedient, and would never dare bare a knife at him like this!

Qin Fu watched the girl struggling in his grip; unable to breathe, bloodshot veins soon cracked across those pitch-black eyes of hers, every strand dyed with killing intent scorched by the flames of hatred.

Qin Fu vaguely felt something was not quite right.

His murderous intent toward that woman had been spontaneous; this little beast could not possibly have known in advance, so what reason did she have to suddenly harbor such ruthless killing intent toward him?

This suspicious feeling, mixed with anger, made the large hand clamping the girl's neck tighten further; under Qin Fu's gaze, he saw the girl's hands straining to pull his arm away —

But her futile upper-body struggle was merely a feint to lower his guard; in a flash, she seized the moment, violently folded at the waist, heaved her lower body up, and her legs flew up to lock around Qin Fu's neck.

The not-yet-grown girl of eleven virtual years had always possessed astonishing strength, and now she erupted with a killing desperation; Qin Fu's neck was twisted and strangled, his face changed instantly, he was forced to release the hand choking Shaowei's throat, and as he straightened he switched to grabbing her shoulders with both hands, trying to fling her away.

Shaowei's legs locked dead around Qin Fu's neck; dragged by his grip, her whole body left the ground; the moment she got a breath, a hoarse, shattered sound rolled from her throat:

"Mother... run out! Hide!"

— As long as Mother hides until the Ling Family Army enters the mountain, she can survive!

— Not only survive, but go home, become the Hou Mansion's young lady again!

This thought had hovered in Shaowei's heart more than a hundred times; she had even resented Marquis Ling Ke for a moment — clearly only half a day short, why couldn't they have entered the mountain half a day earlier? If they had arrived sooner, Mother would be alive!

But Shaowei quickly realized this thought was utterly unreasonable, and utterly powerless.

Where in this world are there "what-ifs"? And if there truly were "what-ifs", she would not need to pin her hopes on others; she herself would spare no effort to save her Mother!

Shaowei's resolve was absolute, just like now.

Even though at this moment she could not distinguish reality from illusion, life from death, it did not hinder her from giving her all.

Feng Zhu, covered in wounds and lying on the ground, tried painfully to climb up.

Shaowei was finally still flung away by Qin Fu, her body crashing heavily to the ground.

Qin Fu, already drunk, had been strangled and deprived of breath for too long; the ringing in his ears and dizziness were especially severe; he forced himself to steady his frame, and as he shook his head to clear it, his blurred vision saw the figure he had flung away almost immediately scramble up, like an unkillable, death-defying civet cat, lunging at him again with ferocity.

Qin Fu couldn't help but step back.

In this instant, for the first time Qin Fu truly saw a threat emanating from this half-grown child.

It was no longer an ill-tempered civet cat, but a fierce tiger cub, claws and fangs already showing.

The next moment, Qin Fu poured all his strength into one kick, sending the lunging child flying a full five paces away.

Shaowei's body slammed onto a low table; the wooden table shattered on impact, copper pots and ceramic vessels rolling across the floor.

Qin Fu's vision gradually recovered; he saw the girl's back trying to rise, but her injured arms and knees could not support her body; she attempted to stand several times, each ending in failure, fresh blood spilling from the corner of her mouth.

Qin Fu drew the long saber hidden under the bed, and walked step by step toward the girl lying powerless amid the wreckage.

"You've got guts." He actually felt a trace of pride and admiration: "Among all my children, you are the one with the most guts."

Too bad she can't be tamed, and now that he knows she's a tiger, she can't be kept alive any longer.

This ring-pommel treasure saber in his hand was a family heirloom; it had seen battlefields and earned merit, slain many talented warriors; to end her with it personally now counted as his praise for her...

Watching that small back prone on the ground, trembling with each shallow, uneven breath, Qin Fu gripped the saber with both hands and raised it; in his mind he already heard the sound of the long blade piercing her back and transfixing her body — he was far too familiar with that sound of tearing flesh and bone; before the motion even arrived, his perception had already rehearsed it.

Shaowei possessed perception just as sharp, if not sharper; though she lay face down, she could clearly hear and sense Qin Fu's approach from behind and his movements —

Shaowei counted her breaths silently; at the very last moment, a staggering footstep suddenly rushed close...

The woman in tattered clothes raised a wine jar with all her might and smashed it at Qin Fu!

In that split second Qin Fu felt contempt; the woman was weak and exhausted, the wine jar barely grazed his back, not even making him sway, before it rolled to his feet and shattered, the remaining dregs of wine splashing and scattering —

The wine jar failed to wound Qin Fu, but it unavoidably distracted him for an instant; and in that single breath, the girl who had already rehearsed death in his perception, awaiting slaughter under his blade, suddenly braced her left hand on the ground, her body abruptly flipping and rising to the left; her right hand, previously tucked beneath her, swung up, the ceramic shard gripped in it driving swiftly into his left neck!

This ceramic was hard pottery, harder than gray pottery, its fractured edge sharper than gray pottery; in Shaowei's plan, even if this one strike could not take Qin Fu's life, it could severely wound him, after which she could seize the long saber from his hand and counter-kill him —

Skin and flesh at the neck split open, fresh blood gushed out; Qin Fu's eyes widened in shock, instinctively recoiling.

One hand clamped over his neck, the other clenched the saber pointing at Shaowei; his eyes blazed with incredulous shock and rage.

Shaowei, instead, did not rush forward; she stood wounded and gasping where she was, face smeared with blood, brows and eyes washed by cold sweat like stubborn mountain rocks rinsed by snow, uncarved by axe or chisel, sharp and cold, not a shred of fear or evasion, let alone guilt or reluctance.

Qin Fu retreated to the front of the bed and slumped down onto it.

He covered his blood-soaked neck, one hand still propped on the saber; his face and lips rapidly turned livid pale; he tried to call for help, but the wind howled fiercely outside the room, he could no longer summon anyone; his voice was only enough for the mother and daughter inside to hear clearly, so he said: "Get Hu Wu here, otherwise, you both will die..."

Hu Wu knew witchcraft and medical theory; he did not want to die, and certainly not like this at the hands of a child... how absurd, Qin Fu's death should never be this wretched and ridiculous.

Shaowei only walked toward him.

Qin Fu wanted to raise the saber to intimidate her, but with excessive blood loss his arms trembled powerlessly; he forced the blade up for a moment, then it quickly dropped again.

And as he forcibly exerted his Qi, even more fresh blood began surging from his mouth; thus he could not even hold the saber.

Shaowei reached him and picked up that saber.

Watching this scene, Feng Zhu finally realized this man seemed to be dying...

He... was actually going to die?

He... could actually be killed like this by someone?

Wait, killed by someone...?

Chaotic thoughts were suddenly struck as if by lightning; Feng Zhu abruptly looked at Shaowei, lunged forward, seized half of Shaowei's shoulder, eyes nearly frantic: "Kill him... what will you do! How will you live! Even if we survive today, you're only eleven, how will you ever find peace afterward... he is your..."

"He isn't, I never called him that." Shaowei cut off her mother's words: "Mother, he's not worthy."

But tears of despair rolled from Feng Zhu's eyes; she suddenly snatched the saber from Shaowei's hand, gripped it with both hands, and hacked at Qin Fu.

She had no technique at all, even lifting the saber was laborious; one slash failed, then two, three...

Fresh blood kept spraying, even veiling the air with a hazy red gauze of blood mist.

The blood-and-flesh-blurred Qin Fu finally stopped twitching; Feng Zhu lost her strength, dropped the Blade, and her whole body went soft as she knelt down, murmuring: "I killed him, I killed this Evil Ghost..."

Feng Zhu's mind was in Confusion, repeating those words over and over until she herself actually believed them; she stared blankly at Qin Fu's corpse, a heap of rotting Flesh, first laughing in relief, then that laughter gradually turned into sobbing.

Thank you everyone for the Monthly Tickets and rewards, good morning.

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Chapter End