Chapter 64: Cat and Mouse Game

The three‑stone bow was extremely hard, so hard that Chen Wuji had to muster all his strength just to draw it barely.

He bought the bow intending to train with it first, then gradually try to handle it.

But by chance he encountered such a disgusting situation, forcing him to forcefully draw the bow to kill.

The first arrow from this bow was somewhat inauspicious.

Killing and hunting are two completely different feelings.

Even from a relatively far distance, Chen Wuji couldn't even see clearly the victim's appearance at the moment of death.

Nevertheless, his whole body felt uneasy, and the raging turmoil in his stomach surged again.

Chen Wuji didn't know what physiological reaction this was, but it was a strong discomfort.

After violently vomiting a bout of sour liquid, Chen Wuji finally felt a little better.

He climbed back onto the roof, the arrow shafts gleaming with cold light moving slowly, aiming at the refugees who were smashing things in the villagers' courtyard.

These refugees must be from the same family, or at least have close relations.

Chen Wuji killed one person, which made these refugees utterly angry.

They angrily cursed Chen Wuji's ancestors while stormily searching around.

If these refugees weren't close, they certainly wouldn't react this way.

Chen Wuji gritted his teeth, enduring the massive force transmitted through the bowstring; as his wrist trembled, about to lose control, he released an arrow.

The arrow streaked like a meteor, piercing the humid, sticky summer air, and lodged into a refugee's lower back.

This damn thing was bending over to strip a girl's clothing.

The girl had clearly already been killed by them.

"Over there, on the eaves!"

Someone saw Chen Wuji and shouted at the top of their lungs.

The refugees surged like a pot of boiling water, clamoring and cursing, rushing toward Chen Wuji's position.

Chen Wuji slipped quickly down the ridge and ran toward the deeper part of the village.

When he passed the Landlord Deity shrine, he placed the Fire Hemp Cloth he had been carrying on his back inside.

"Landlord Deity, could you please watch over me? I'm going to kill a few beasts that have disturbed your clean purity; you will surely protect me, right?"

The clay statue of the Landlord Deity remained silent, so Chen Wuji took it as an affirmation.

The cloth, though not heavy, was somewhat cumbersome, hindering his movement.

Zhou Buping sat on the stone steps at the shrine entrance, picking at his fingernails, which were clogged with brown sludge, using a broad‑backed Knife.

He and the brothers beside him were all mountain folk.

They were what the authorities and commoners called bandits.

When the refugees from the north surged into Shenxian Ling and headed south via the mountain trail, a grand idea quietly brewed in his mind.

He planned to seize the opportunity to incite trouble, using the refugees as his tools.

If it failed, he would raid a few villages and retreat to the mountains.

After descending the mountain, his plan proceeded smoothly; he repeatedly raided several villages, boosting his prestige among the refugees, and gradually gathered a few hundred followers, giving him a foothold for rebellion.

Zhao Clan Village was one of the few large settlements in Yunan and a rare prosperous village.

He reserved this village for his own people, intending for these brothers to earn a good sum and enjoy some fortune.

Everything went smoothly; the brothers plundered abundantly, and the pretty young women enjoyed several.

Unfortunately, they encountered a blind‑sighted passing youngster.

In Zhou Buping's eyes, he was just a little hunter foraging in the mountains—kill him.

But in the end, his sworn brother and another brother were killed.

They had already raided several villages after coming down, and this was the first casualty.

The one who died was still his sworn brother, the Leader on the mountain.

"Grand Master, that kid is as cunning as a monkey, and he killed… three brothers."

A man rushed in hurriedly, his bulging clothes jingling.

Zhou Buping's expression darkened instantly, "Tell the big ones, if you don't shed these burdens on you, we won't be able to locate that kid; the Laborers will hack you to death."

"…Yes."

Chen Wuji had only one arrow left.

He was carrying a Knife, but to slash with it he still needed some mental preparation.

More importantly, the danger coefficient of close‑quarters fighting was high, making him hesitant.

However, his right hand could no longer draw the bow.

After repeatedly forcing the Hard Bow, his right hand was nearly ruined.

If he drew another arrow, he would surely be unable to even grip the Knife later.

He shook his blood‑smeared right hand, torn by the bowstring, and tore a piece of cloth from his body to wrap it, giving himself a simple bandage.

Leaning against the wall, he slowed his breathing, rested briefly, and after a brief inner struggle, Chen Wuji put away his bow and arrow and drew the ring‑shaped blade.

This family‑passed Tetanus Blade, after days of use, had its rust wear away, its cold glint emerging, now essentially showing its former peak appearance.

He still decided to hack a few more strokes!

The bodies strewn across the ground in such a tragic state still left a lingering obsession in his heart.

He was not a saint, nor did he possess a heart full of benevolence and righteousness.

But encountering such a pack of beasts, if he didn't tear a few pieces of flesh from them, his spirit would remain unsettled, his thoughts constantly blocked.

The distant footsteps grew increasingly audible.

These people suddenly behaved obediently.

They discarded the large and small packs they were carrying, set down the woman they had shouldered, and began groups of three to five to scour the village for his trail.

In the modest village, nearly thirty people split into five or six squads, and Chen Wuji's area of movement is getting smaller and smaller.

Nevertheless, running is still possible; he is alone, lightly equipped, and running out is not difficult.

Just cut down a few more livestock, then run after finishing.

As the sound at his ears grew clearer, Chen Wuji suddenly leapt out, brandishing his Knife and slashing.

The pursuing Refugees nearly collided head‑on with him.

Fortunately, his Knife reacted faster than the opponent's.

With a single slash, Chen Wuji didn't even see what the opponent looked like; he only saw the head drop off, looking as if molded from mud, and it fell off with a swish.

This heirloom Knife is absurdly fast!

After the slash, Chen Wuji didn't linger in battle; he didn't even glance at the other Refugees, turned his head and ran.

He became nauseated again.

The sight of that guy's head falling off, blood gushing like a spring, was a bit too shocking for him.

Humans and prey are ultimately somewhat different.

Fortunately, there was nothing left in his stomach to vomit; he only retched a few times and it passed.

Chen Wuji slipped into a nearby commoner's house, then swiftly vaulted over a wall and slipped out, again wielded a Revolving Horse Spear, moved stealthily, chased the few Refugees from behind, lunged and delivered two slashes, and promptly turned and ran.

This is a life‑and‑death cat‑and‑mouse game.

It tests skill with the Knife, and even more the speed and stamina of running.

Fortunately, the latter two, Chen Wuji's current training is still fairly solid.

Every day he leaps and bounds in the mountains; whether it's the speed of fleeing or the skill of scaling walls, both are still adequate.