Chapter 15

The fugitive Bai Lang had only two or three thousand yuan in his pockets; although there was money in his bank card, he estimated that the card would likely be frozen—and even if it weren't frozen, it would still be tracked. "Being tracked isn't scary, but if the card gets frozen, that's trouble." Thinking it over, he realized being tracked would be just as troublesome. Although UnionPay ATMs are now common even in larger villages, withdrawing money would expose him. The first few times he could still claim safety, but after the police learned Bai Lang had cross‑country ability, the later withdrawals would probably be truly dangerous.

"It's just accidentally killing a societal thug; it's not like I wiped out their whole family, so they probably wouldn't mobilize that much police force," Bai Lang thought while running, though he might have been underestimating the importance of so‑called criminal cases involving loss of life.

That thug was nothing more than a petty hooligan—not even an organized crime gang, at most a low‑level street ruffian. So he was actually a small‑time player; in daily life he probably wouldn't dare to rob or extort, just getting drunk, picking fights, and pretending to be tough to collect debts. Yet, ironically, this scumbag happened to have a heart condition—likely unknown even to himself—and after drinking heavily, a single palm strike to his chest caused a myocardial infarction, killing him on the spot and inadvertently implicating Bai Lang, who had acted bravely.

"It was clearly just stopping an unlawful assault; I never expected this to possibly lead to a negligence or injury charge.... The worst part is that even the incident where I beat up that guy in a hat and stole his car might be exposed. Life imprisonment is unlikely, but a ten‑year sentence is possible—and the key is that I'd have to pay compensation to those scumbags. I've got money, but I refuse to pay those scumbags! So I have to run!" By now Bai Lang had left Lan Zhou Cheng over a hundred kilometers behind; that's what a night of running amounted to.

After routinely practicing his fists in the wild and drawing in the first breath of morning sunlight, Bai Lang sought a place to rest. Although his breath was enduring and his internal force didn't tire him anywhere, he knew he couldn't keep this up: "Fatigue accumulates; at this stage my Golden Bell Cover internal force cultivation isn't high enough to smooth out hidden wear and tear or speed up muscle and bone recovery." If he kept running like this, he'd be bedridden within three days.

But he figured he could run a thousand li in those three days, then lie in bed for three or four days—maybe that wouldn't be so bad? While resting in a sunny mountain hollow, Bai Lang thought this way. He had a compass—bought long ago—and a map, which let him roughly identify his direction. Heading south was definitely correct, and these areas weren't so desolate as to become uninhabited; asking for directions posed no problem. Matching place names to the map made it easy to tell where he was.

Inside Lan Zhou Cheng, they were indeed searching for Bai Lang; this sector had surveillance, though not high‑definition, it still showed what happened. "Look," said an officer, "that's the suspect walking down the road. Someone from the opposite side bumped into him, he dodged, and that person fell to the ground. Then the victim came over and surrounded him in an attack......" The officers watching the footage also snorted contemptuously; this kind of thug deserved to be locked up for at least fifteen days.

Then came the suspect's attempt to stop the fight, after which the thugs tried to beat him up—only to be turned back on them. "Has the suspect's background been checked?" someone asked. "Indeed, and it's linked to an assault case that occurred recently in **. The suspect once went by the alias **, his real name is Bai Lang, a person from Magic City...." No wonder the public security network database is so powerful—if you look carefully, you can find basically anything.

But that was already twenty‑four hours after the incident came to light. Before that, Bai Lang's photo existed, but it was a grainy screen‑capture from the surveillance footage, somewhat blurry. Police stationed at Lan Zhou Cheng's major exits had been told to pay special attention, yet they found no trace of him. So they held a meeting to discuss whether he was still in Lan Zhou Cheng or had fled. His temporary lodging was surely unoccupied, and there was no sign he'd returned—some personal belongings were still left behind. Moreover, it was through this that the police managed to identify Bai Lang's identity.

Although this case involved a death, at bottom it was merely a fatal injury. The thug's family were no pushovers either, constantly raising a fuss. But after one detention, things calmed down; the wanted notice went out, and the police gradually lost confidence in catching Bai Lang—he had been missing for over a week with not a hint of news. The monitored phone and bank card he was supposed to have were never used.

Bai Lang pressed straight ahead through the wild mountains and ridges—given his martial arts cultivation, as long as he wasn't deliberately courting death by scaling sheer peaks and steep ridges, a slight detour would keep him from dying in the wilderness like a backpacker. Moreover, since he knew his direction, there was no need to stray far from the main roads; that way he could resupply at small shops and inns along the route—a few thousand yuan would be enough.

But Bai Lang inevitably invites trouble—this time he couldn't look away. In a mountain village he saw a woman locked up; though he had no business being curious, he used his lightness skill to jump straight to the chained woman and said, "Hey, what's going on? Are you mentally ill or have you been trafficked?" The woman had gone numb; hearing Bai Lang's words, her dull gaze finally focused on this unfamiliar man, and she burst into tears, heedless of her state of undress, shouting, "Save me! Save me, I was sold into this place!"

Bai Lang raised his eyebrows. "Really? This kind of thing still exists? I'll save you first—truly lawless!" He struck with a palm; the wall cracked and collapsed halfway, and with both hands he pulled, snapping the iron chain. At that moment the man inside the house rose up, charging forward while still gripping a pickaxe handle. Since locking up a woman says everything about his character, Bai Lang didn't even bother to look twice; his killing intent flared and he unleashed another palm strike.

That palm strike snapped the pickaxe handle, and in the process it completely caved in the man's chest, breaking all his ribs which then pierced inward, even spiking out from his back. Bai Lang then switched hands and struck again, driving the man's head into the sunken chest cavity, the blood that should have spouted being forced inside.... The woman was dumbfounded, but she seemed to recover quickly. "You can go put on some clothes, even take a bath. It's fine—I don't quit halfway when I save someone." Bai Lang glanced at the main door; sure enough, an old woman came out.

The old woman opened her mouth to shout, but Bai Lang merely gave a side kick, snapping her at the waist and sending her flying into the wall, where she fell to the ground lifeless. "She wasn't a good person either, so it's not wanton killing."