Chapter 175

"Cut her off, old lady!"

Letting out a roar utterly devoid of feminine grace, unusually clashing with the sounds of golden spears and iron horses, full of bandit wind and fierce spirit, An'an gripped the kitchen knife with both hands and swung it forward.

A trace of red aura intertwined with the blackness coiled above the kitchen knife.

The blade sliced through the clothing, cut into the abnormal muscle within, and finally severed an entire arm completely from the body.

However, the opponent did not lose combat ability due to the severed arm; on the contrary, the other hand gripped an exaggerated pair of scissors, snipping toward An'an's face.

An'an, having exerted all her strength, remained off-balance and could only twist her body as much as possible to dodge.

Seeing the scissor blades about to pierce her chin, a hand extended from the side, grabbing the wrist holding the scissors.

Just like a high-speed vehicle suddenly coming to a halt, An'an even felt a gust of wind blast her face.

Because she forcibly twisted her body, An'an completely lost balance, fell to the ground, then rolled on the spot, creating distance.

"Hoo—hoo—"

Panting violently, An'an gazed at the person and "ghost" before her.

The one holding the scissors was the urban legend "Slit-Mouthed Woman."

The one stopping her was naturally Master Xuanzang.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman, whose wrist was seized by Tang Luo, had lost another arm, leaving only her mouth capable of attack.

It opened its mouth, revealing shark-like teeth, and bit toward Tang Luo.

The next second, Tang Luo smashed it to the ground, leaving several cracks on the surface, with numerous fragments bursting forth, demonstrating the force of that blow.

Even so, the Slit-Mouthed Woman continued to twist and struggle.

Its resistance to blows was astonishingly strong.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman, stunned by Tang Luo's blow, lost all capacity for resistance; even when Tang Luo produced the Cursed House and tossed it inside, it offered no further struggle or counteraction.

"The fifth one." Tang Luo said, putting away the Cursed House.

Ten days had passed since he entered this mission world.

Compared to the fulfilling yet turbulent days of the past few days, the coming week or so could be described as calm and peaceful.

Aside from encountering the Slit-Mouthed Woman when Tang Luo wandered the streets, there was basically no disturbance at all.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman's corpse beneath the rental bed had vanished, but the staircase-imitating evil ghost did not appear.

The legendary videotape evil ghost also had not a trace of news.

Suddenly shifting from hunting evil ghosts in a dungeon to peaceful daily life made Tang Luo feel heartbroken—this back-and-forth, how much merit power had he lost?

An'an, who had fallen to the ground, rose again and said: "Still not good enough—I didn't expect I couldn't even beat a Slit-Mouthed Woman."

"Not bad already." Tang Luo said.

Besides their numbers, the Slit-Mouthed Woman's greatest abnormality was its astonishing strength, coupled with its habit of asking people "Do you think I'm beautiful?"—no matter how one answered, it would kill them.

Belonging to the standard berserker type.

Its physical condition and combat power had already surpassed that of an enhanced first-rank God-Demon Walker.

If lacking skills, a first-rank God-Demon Walker encountering a Slit-Mouthed Woman in a head-on clash would mostly end in hatred and death on the spot.

An'an could sacrifice her own life to sever one arm of the Slit-Mouthed Woman—her record was actually not bad.

Don't forget, she had obtained the Fate Fragment for less than ten days; despite being a Fate Holder, instant success is rare.

"But compared to the Master, I feel the difference is too great." An'an said.

"... An'an, do you have some misunderstanding about the poor monk?" Tang Luo said, "The poor monk is no ordinary God-Demon Walker—saying this, you might not believe me, but I used to be formidable too, chatting and laughing with many great figures; taking me as a benchmark—"

"Indeed, it's too lofty, huh?" An'an said.

"Exactly." Tang Luo nodded, "Just like that—let's first set a small goal, say, becoming a fourth-rank God-Demon Walker."

"If I recall correctly, that rank can directly pierce through tank cannons and even aircraft on a modern thermal weapons battlefield—though not necessarily moving freely, at least one should be able to go from east to west without dying?"

"Roughly how it's divided." Tang Luo said.

Regarding the ranks of God-Demon Walker, Chu Zhongtian had given An'an a popular science explanation.

Though not rigorous or scientific, what's wrong with having ranks? Without ranks, how would one go out and boast?

"What! He's actually a fourth-rank powerhouse!", "Impossible—just a month ago he was third-rank level, now he can tear apart veteran fourth-rank powerhouses bare-handed!" and similar remarks.

Without ranks, how would background extras express their shock?

Just saying "so strong, so strong" isn't enough—one needs clarity, needs comparison.

Humans with the nature of a repeat player, their greatest fondness is leveling up; watching ranks rise is a very pleasant thing.

"Small goal, good." An'an nodded heavily, gripped her kitchen knives tighter, her aura brimming with killing intent.

If not for her good looks, she'd give off the feeling of a pig-butcher.

But because she's good-looking, even two real pig-butcher knives would be no problem.

"Actually, you're already stronger than Xiao Chu." Tang Luo said, "Being a person, the most important thing is to be happy—no need to push too hard."

"Ah-choo—" In some corner of the city, Chu Zhongtian sneezed, a solemn expression on his face, "Could it be... someone is speaking ill of me behind my back?"

An'an threw the two already inadequate kitchen knives into the corner, utterly lacking any awareness that she was littering.

Slit-Mouthed Women and such also prefer to appear in places with few people.

Now it is a weekday afternoon.

In this seemingly peaceful small city, such little streets and alleys with few passersby are still not few.

Tang Luo and An'an each day wander about like unemployed vagrants.

They even specially choose such places to stroll.

However, today the two did not come out to await a fierce ghost's arrival—they went to get An'an's pre-ordered weapon.

Ordinary kitchen knives and cutlery could no longer satisfy An'an's current combat strength; after an introduction by Chuan Shangjiangzi, they found the legendary "hidden shop."

Simply put, it is a place that forges cutlery, where they had custom-made two small axes.

At first, the shop owner naturally refused outright—he was a bladesmith; what did it matter if he forged a small axe?

And the sooner the better, ideally within a week—did you think this was some modern assembly line?

I, the bladesmith, am a man who pours his heart into crafting blades; before I even begin, I must at least burn incense and bathe, calm my mind for a month, only then can I set to work.

Less than a year, more likely two, the price of a house—any less and I won't do it.

Threats are useless too; even if I die, I'll die in the shop—Lord Kawakami is always right!

The evil spirits inside the Cursed House can step slightly beyond its boundaries, come out to get some air.

When dealing with the beggars, the Cursed House had already shown this trait.

So whenever Lord Kawakami Jiangzi was needed, Tang Luo would let her out, feeling just like he'd raised a little pet spirit.

Speaking of which, the shrunken size of the Cursed House is just right to be "held" in one hand.

Tang Luo thought he could cosplay as Nezha's father.

Arriving at that rather remote shop—closed for three years, open for three years eating nothing—everything fit the mysterious shop trope perfectly, except the owner was a sorrowful simp of a "forging shop."

Tang Luo and company successfully obtained An'an's small axe.

Two in total, not the woodcutter's axe of Li Kui on the Little Raccoon card.

But two much more refined axes; the axe heads aren't broad, with the curved surface as the edge, yet the back is also very sharp, like a black dagger.

Both front and back have considerable killing power; the haft is wooden, wrapped in non-slip material, blending classical and modern perfectly.

"Master! It's gear! Master!"

An'an's eyes lit up, her tone brimming with uncontainable delight.

"Huh?" Tang Luo blinked.

Gear?

They hadn't even imagined they could directly forge gear—just planned to make a decent weapon to get through the next twenty days.

At least not to be embarrassed at a critical moment by a broken cleaver.

Who would've thought they'd actually forged gear?

"No wonder you're the Chosen One." Tang Luo said, thinking about how his own gear came to be.

The first ominous revolver was obtained when he infiltrated the nobles' secret base, wiped them out, and took it—those people were local bigwigs.

This "side quest reward" isn't easy to come by.

The second item sold, that broom, came from another god-demon wanderer.

Later, the Light Spirit's Tread was simply a quest reward; the Little Gale Wind was self-made, entering the mission world and gaining recognition from god-demons—none of it was simple.

Who'd have thought An'an would get gear so easily?

"No." An'an said after serious thought, "This should be the Master's doing. That bladesmith isn't someone who yields easily; the mission time is only thirty days, and the pressure and inducements from god-demons make it hard for him to forge weapons for us—even if he agreed, that reluctant state probably couldn't produce true gear.

"Perhaps this bladesmith has some 'side quest' on him, like saving him or something, but Lord Kawakami Jiangzi isn't a bad option either."

And getting Lord Kawakami Jiangzi to obey meekly isn't simple.

It's just that letting her completely submit—head to toe, inside out—allows Tang Luo to charm the bladesmith into wholeheartedly forging weapons.

Normally, even if terms were reached with Lord Kawakami Jiangzi, a slight hint from her might make this bladesmith forge a junk item instead.

Forget "becoming" gear—it could just snap at a critical moment.

"Although you've analyzed it thoroughly, I still intend to try." Tang Luo said.

"Try what?" An'an asked.

"Back then, I was testing whether his other weapons could become gear—go on, Chosen One, unleash your Hand of God." Tang Luo reopened the locked door.

"…I think the chances are slim." An'an said, still following Tang Luo's lead, feeling every blade and weapon like that.

Sure enough, none of them were gear.

Still, under Tang Luo's "I'll speak well of you before Lord Kawakami Jiangzi" sugar-coated bullet, that bladesmith brought out his hidden treasures.

Too bad they still weren't gear.

Let Tang Luo take all these blades away, dump them in the dream of a clearance sale between near-science and martial arts mythology—shattered.