Chapter 29: What Are You?

“You… you…”

The thin head monk had also spoken with the black-clad youth and knew well the terrifying background behind him.

Those foxes on North Cliff—even the Green Lin Old Mother dared not provoke lightly, let alone a martial artist like myself, who came alone from Qingzhou.

Bowing before them is not shameful.

The only thing he hadn’t anticipated was that someone would dare not bow?

“Cough…”

Master Yin Seven’s features twisted as the flesh and blood he’d swallowed mixed with saliva and vomited out.

He forced himself to roll over, eyes blazing, his breath growing heavier and heavier, no longer human-like but more like some beast.

“Roar!”

He opened his mouth, a bellow echoing like a great bell, deafening.

If one had even beginner-level cultivation, it would be fine—but Chen Ji, a constable with some martial skill, staggered back two steps despite his best efforts to hold his ground.

As for the Lin family steward, he was even worse—collapsed straight to the ground, his silk robe stained with filth.

“It’s over, over! The Lin family will have deaths!”

With a quavering voice, he stole a glance ahead.

He saw Shen Yi as if he hadn’t heard a thing, stepping steadily, unhurried, drawing his three-foot-long blade.

Unlike Chen Ji’s dramatic draw, Shen Yi showed no grimace or clenched teeth—instead, he seemed casual, as natural as pulling an oiled paper umbrella from his sleeve during an autumn rain.

But the moment he saw Shen Yi draw his blade—

Master Yin Seven instantly silenced his roar, fear flashing in his eyes, then turned and fled!

Inside the room, at the instant the man moved, he had sharply sensed the thick aura—far from a mere beginner… at least a fully accomplished beginner.

Master Yin Seven powered his legs, crouching low, leaping six zhang in a single stride.

He didn’t even spare a glance back.

Seeing his panicked state, even the two Golden Body Sect brothers showed surprise.

Both were beginners—why fear him so much?

“The imperial court is handling this case; we have no business interfering.”

The thin head monk, seemingly guessing the man feared Shen Yi’s companion, suddenly spoke in a mocking tone.

The butcher glanced at him and sighed slowly.

Yet even so, inexplicably, Master Yin Seven did not stop—he sprinted even faster.

The next instant, Shen Yi moved with fluid grace, stepping forward two or three paces and appearing silently behind the black-clad youth.

His long blade slashed down—its fierce, brutal energy finally sent a chill down Master Yin Seven’s spine, forcing him to turn and block with his elbow.

Sssshhh!

The blade, wreathed in crimson and gray-white energy, came crashing down!

The sharp edge tore through Master Yin Seven’s flesh like paper, his hardened elbow bone cracking on impact; the slashing blade energy surged through his arm, carving a deep gash across his face, bone exposed.

The gash stretched to his right shoulder, emitting a sizzling sound as the surrounding flesh visibly rotted into pus.

As blood sprayed, dark yellow hairs sprouted from his face, the foul stench of a beast spreading through the air.

On the dark yellow fur, black markings revealed his true identity.

The “human skin” he wore lost its effect—he opened his bloody maw, revealing a terrifying tiger head.

Master Yin Seven gritted his teeth, vision blurred red, fleeing blindly to the side while screaming in terror: “You madman! She won’t let you live!”

These words struck the thin head monk right in the heart.

He stared at Shen Yi in shock, his gaze as if looking at a dead man.

The butcher watched the tiger demon charging toward him, clicked his tongue, pulled a plain pork-killing knife from behind his waist—under his broad palm, the black knife looked like a toy.

After a moment’s thought, he flipped the blade and struck with the flat side, swinging his thick arm down hard.

With brutal force, the already panicked tiger demon was flung back again.

Desperately grasping for something, his red vision suddenly revealed a clean face—eyes slanting down at him, movement swift and decisive.

Puch!

A flash of silver passed.

Head and body separated, falling one after the other, kicking up dust, then rapidly swelling into a massive, muscular tiger carcass.

Shen Yi sheathed his blade, bent down, plunged his long, powerful fingers into the creature’s abdomen, probed slightly, and withdrew a small beast core.

【Slain a Beginner-Stage Tiger Demon. Total lifespan: 520 years. Remaining: 132 years. Absorption complete.】

“Are you out of your mind?!”

The thin head monk glared angrily at his junior: “I’ve warned you countless times—don’t bring me trouble!”

The butcher sheathed his knife, said nothing, pulled a fresh blade of grass into his mouth, then grimaced and spat it out: “Pah, do you even keep dogs? Feels like it’s soaked in urine—stinks like hell.”

“Thank you.”

Shen Yi tucked the beast core away.

“Just my bad habit—I feel like slapping anything I see.”

The butcher glanced over and smiled indifferently.

“Scoundrel… scoundrel…” The ignored thin head monk trembled with rage.

Shen Yi turned his gaze away, noticing Chen Ji’s blade, his expression darkening with confusion.

“A bit nervous—took it to steady my nerves.”

Chen Ji hid the blade behind his back, forced a weak smile, eyes tinged with shame.

How many more demons must he slay before proving he isn’t one who colludes with monsters?

That unnamed ghost fire earlier—deep down, even he doubted himself; otherwise, why care about others’ gossip?

But…

Shen’s martial progress is too fast! This was Chen Ji’s first time witnessing him slay a great demon—in Shen Yi’s hands, the tiger demon never once showed the slightest desire to resist.

The only thing that comforted him was that Shen didn’t use the Demon-Slaying Sword Art.

That meant Shen must have been secretly training for a long time—likely trained under another master.

“Enough. Take the demon’s corpse back to the government office.”

Seeing he didn’t wish to elaborate, Shen Yi didn’t press.

“Your servant obeys.” Chen Ji moved swiftly.

At that moment, the same cold voice spoke again.

“Young Master Shen, he doesn’t need to steady his nerves—he’s so bold he nearly slashed old man here with his blade, and even asked what I am.”

The thin head monk walked over, sneering.

Wearing imperial robes doesn’t let you pretend to be a dignitary before martial artists—even without underhanded tricks, your own superior can silence you with a word.

Hearing this, Chen Ji froze, a pang of regret rising in his chest.

Demons were already hard enough to deal with—why stir up bigger trouble over a moment of temper?

Thinking this, he lowered his head, rubbed his face, preparing to apologize—when Shen Yi’s calm voice cut in.

“You really said that?”

Hearing this, Chen Ji stiffened, helplessly replied: “I did.”

The thin head monk sneered harder, standing with arms at his sides.

Shen Yi nodded, turned, and walked toward him.

“It’s not a big deal—I’m not without tolerance. But, Master Shen, you really ought to discipline your subordinate…”

Before he finished, he saw Shen Yi stop before him, hand resting on the scabbard.

He met his gaze calmly, lips parting slightly, voice laced with mockery:

“So.”

“What are you?”

(End of Chapter)