Chapter 182: Killing the Official

Thinking carefully, it really doesn't matter; at worst it's just the old incident of Xuewu Erlang at the Mandarin Duck Tower. Bai Lang, wearing his bamboo hat, arrived at the governor's office; it was already near dusk. The guard soldiers in front of the governor's office saw this tall man standing there and immediately moved to drive him away. "Go, go, go! Don't cause trouble in front of the governor's office! Watch out for the board!"

Bai Lang's face was fiercely imposing; a wildly flaring beard and thick, hanging eyebrows, tiger eyes radiating a threatening aura, a naturally heroic appearance befitting a peerless general—so the Junior Guardian's looks were indeed fine. He laughed heartily, grabbed his hat with his left hand and tossed it aside, while his right hand effortlessly pushed the guard aside, and he strode straight into the office.

"You soldier, your tone is fierce but your heart is still decent; today you're lucky and escape death! Hurry home," the guard said, slamming heavily into the wall, though he was not seriously hurt, and Bai Lang entered after uttering those words. The guards at the doorway were not just one; there were seven or eight of them.

Bai Lang removed his hat, instantly revealing a head of short hair—full black short hair, which openly violated the Qing law. The Qing soldiers shouted "rebels", but only a few rushed forward—just two dimwits charged at him.

A smile curled at Bai Lang's mouth; he seized the two men's heads, and with a lightning‑fast touch, a "Kong—" sound rang out as both skulls shattered, blood spattering white and red. The two broken skulls twitched, and when Bai Lang released his grip they fell to the ground. The others also collapsed; the veteran soldiers simply played dead, not even uttering a cry, fearing the ferocious man would kill them.

Bai Lang had no interest in those petty soldiers; he wasn't getting any silver for beheading them, and the heads of Luying Bing? Forget it—now even a Tartar's head is probably worthless… Bai Lang walked down the main hall—government offices are arranged along a central axis, so entering the middle would most likely lead him to Zhong Yin.

There were indeed several men in Qing military robes who rushed to block Bai Lang, and they were far stronger than the earlier guards. Yet Bai Lang only smiled, stepped forward, and delivered a charging punch that split the first man in two, followed by a sweeping kick that took the other two down together.

In Bai Lang's hands, these men were no different from straw puppets; a single hand movement or foot lift could kill them easily. The servants fled, and the maidens screamed, collapsing on the ground. Bai Lang paid them no mind; he activated Lightness Skill and effortlessly vaulted over one and two layers, quickly reaching the rear courtyard.

Now it depended on Bai Lang's eyes—to see whether Zhong Yin had shed his official robe for civilian clothes, which would allow him to judge the dignitary's bearing. Still, Bai Lang could slaughter every man in the rear courtyard; if he missed none, he was sure to slay this Tartar minister.

Fortunately for Bai Lang, he instantly spotted a middle‑aged man surrounded by guards, still wearing an official robe—Bai Lang wasn't well‑versed in civil officials' insignia, but this bird was clearly a high‑ranking officer, his hat adorned with jeweled plumes. "Probably him, lucky indeed, hahaha," Bai Lang said, "Are you the Shaanxi Governor Zhong Yin?"

The middle‑aged man was indeed very dignified; his guards and he stared at Bai Lang's hair. "Sir…" Zhong Yin was at a loss for words. Bai Lang moved like the wind, with no one able to block him; faced with this man, he initially intended to persuade the ferocious fellow with words—yet the man's appearance was striking, clearly a peerless warrior, and Zhong Yin exuded an inexplicable sense of "friendliness", making thoughts of a "Manchu First Warrior" swirl in Bai Lang's mind.

But seeing the man's short hair all over his head, it was the attire of a blatant rebel, a law‑defying lunatic; logically such a brazen rogue should be wearing the proper Qing uniform, yet his hair contradicted that—perhaps just a matter of mismatched style.

Zhong Yin could no longer find words; before he could decide how to deal with the rogue, Bai Lang let out a wild laugh and charged forward. The spear guards on his left and right brandished their weapons and lunged, but Bai Lang laughed while reaching out, grabbing both the men and their weapons in a tangled mess; the waist knives, soft armor, flesh and bone were crushed into a lump, which he tossed against the wall, turning it into a splatter of rotten meat.

From then on, Bai Lang's gestures were like a long spear or a massive halberd, like a great hammer or iron mace; not only could people and weapons be easily cleaved, they could also be smashed, pierced, and shattered. The ferocious foe finally broke the morale of those spear guards because their weapons could not pierce him; they smashed their arms onto him, causing the weapons to explode outward, some even spitting blood as their bones shattered, collapsing and dying.

Everyone was shocked, their limbs trembling, yet Bai Lang showed no mercy; he wiped out more than twenty spear guards in just a few breaths. "All right, Zhong Yin, are you ready?" Bai Lang said, looking at the upright Manchu governor before him, his palm slicing horizontally to decapitate him, without a word of idle chatter.

Blood spurted several feet high, and Bai Lang tore off a piece of cloth, dipped it in the blood, and wrote on the wall, "Murderer: Prince of the Crown Bai Lang of the Ming Dynasty!" He then tossed his foot, entered the rear courtyard and began a blood‑soaked rampage—Bai Lang thought it best to kill every man there, lest anyone attempt a golden cicada escape.

Children could be spared, but no middle‑aged man could escape. Even in the governor's office there was no armor, so Bai Lang's wish for a suit of armor fitting his style was futile. Slaughtering all men over thirty in the rear courtyard took Bai Lang little time; the only trouble he met was a middle‑aged woman crying "Lord, my life!" and lunging at him desperately.

"Companion swan, very well!" Bai Lang threw a single punch, lightly killing the woman. Another pair of men and women screamed and rushed at him to fight, and Bai Lang swiftly dealt with them. This brutal fellow surveyed the scene; with the targets all dead, he simply punched a straight hole through the rear courtyard wall and left.

"My stomach's rather hungry; let's go have a meal," Bai Lang pulled out a pouch of broken silver coins and cheerfully headed to the tavern. Despite the chaotic times, the tavern still offered plenty of good food for those who could pay. Bai Lang strode in like a dragon and tiger, and the patrons, seeing his head, immediately slipped away quietly.

But the waiter and the owner couldn't escape; they could only watch the golden‑blade on a great horse sitting before the table, trembling as they asked, "What would you like to eat, sir?" Their faces were full of fear and misery… because the guest looked like a rebel, he would likely suffer the fate of a trapped fish.