Chapter 22: Kill

The dock district of Huicheng was not entirely devoid of prosperity.

Living off the mountains and rivers, the harbor area naturally had places catering to foreign visitors, breeding a distorted, decadent prosperity.

“Come in and take a look—there’s something pretty.”

“Pass by, pass by—free tea if you stay the night.”

Beneath the red lanterns and wine lights, behind each window, were youthful faces heavily painted with makeup.

They forced smiles—some dazzling, some strained—dressed in garish, glittering attire that saturated the entire street with a pink haze.

Carriages couldn’t enter, too many customers and courtesans clogged the path.

This was the pleasure street of the dock district, the favorite haunt of passing sailors.

But today, the young Holy Knight strolled here, whistling a tune, to a place that didn’t belong to him.

This was where men sought pleasure; beneath the painted faces of the “True Eye”’s victims were often shockingly young faces. In this era, people were merely consumables—women in this trade rarely lasted long.

Sick? Maimed? Old? Ugly? Why not replace them? They’re cheap anyway. Not far away, there was a talent market for easy buying and selling.

In a place clearly not meant for him, the Holy Knight walked straight ahead, still smiling and nodding to passersby.

Some even tried to pull him inside, but he shook them off without hesitation.

Those who knew who he was moved as far away as possible the moment they saw him.

Ahead of him, an empty path had formed without notice.

Wherever he passed, people pointed and whispered; some even had bets going—this time, who would be next?

He didn’t make the audience wait long.

“Crack!”

This time, the door kicked open was that of the “Leisure Melody” tavern.

It was the largest brothel on the street—and the property of the street’s boss.

“Who the hell?! Come to cause trouble? Don’t you know this is Gray Vulture Boss’s territory?!” The bouncers who had been laughing nearby erupted in fury.

But in the open doorway, the young man in thin leather armor still smiled.

He crossed his arms; his pale blue gloves glowed with magical radiance as his piercing gaze swept the entire room.

“Call ‘Bald Vulture’ John out. His crimes are exposed. Hand over the kidnapped girls now—I’ll give him a whole corpse.”

His calm words were a direct declaration of war. The Holy Knight wasted no words—his sword tip pointed straight at the boss.

A worn badge was wrapped around his wrist, identifying him—but no one in the room took it seriously; upstairs, several detectives were drinking with courtesans.

“Wait, sir, we’ve already paid this month’s tribute to Chief Lu’en.”

Someone rushed forward, sleeve holding a small pouch of coins.

“Let’s talk, let’s talk. Our boss is coming right away.” To him, this was just another brat come to beg for money—send him off and be done with it.

If he couldn’t be sent off? A good beating would teach a greenhorn his place.

But this visitor? He had never come to talk.

Li En smiled. He had waited too long for this day!

Talk? Talk about what? When and in what position you scum who traffic people and force women into prostitution will be hanged?

“Judgment of Sin.” Beneath the man’s raised right hand, holy light flooded the entire hall.

When a Holy Knight cast “Detect Evil,” the situation was already beyond negotiation.

A faint red glow covered the entire hall; every patron, every thug, bore some shade of color.

When a Judgment Knight cast “Judgment of Sin,” it meant execution time had come!

“Smite Evil—”

Li En raised his Sword of Courage, drawing a lethal arc.

This time, with power behind him, he would unleash the full “Holy Sword.”

“—Slash.”

The silvery light faded; where the silver arc had fallen, purple-red heads tumbled one after another.

This long-suppressed full-force strike had an astonishing range, as if the spirits of heroes had returned.

Blood splattered the floor; the severed limbs of the wicked rolled everywhere.

Yet Li En still had time for a wry self-mockery.

“So your blood is red too? Then why are you so cruel to your own kind?”

“Aaaahhhhh!”

No matter the reason, murder in the street triggered instant panic.

Those whose bodies were colorless or faintly red—the “not deserving death”—fled in all directions.

Facing the fleeing, Li En still smiled, standing silently, as if utterly unconcerned.

“Crack.”

One man, his body black-red with sin, was snatched from the crowd and slammed to the ground.

He shattered instantly—thirteen points of supernatural strength was no joke.

“Looks like I need more practice controlling it.” He flexed his wrist, scanned the room once more, confirmed no one else merited immediate execution, and let the unlucky survivors scatter.

The greatest difference between Law Knight and ordinary Holy Knight: the result of “Detect Evil” cannot serve as grounds for sentencing, for evil thoughts and personality are not crimes.

The Law Knight’s “Judgment of Sin” judges crimes committed within the past half-month—those red enough to a certain degree had definitely taken lives.

“Pity—this legacy… I’m starting to understand Su’er’s regret.”

He still had the presence of mind to think of other things. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long.

His den had been raided, his door smashed, his thugs killed on the spot.

If that Bald Vulture boss still wanted to survive, he’d have to eliminate Li En.

“Mad Knight! Others fear you, but I’m a transcendent too—I’m not afraid of you!”

And here he came.

Down from the upper floor lumbered a bald old man, his massive frame intimidating—once a slender fox-person, now resembling a boar-man.

One eye, one hand holding a spiked club, the other a massive shield, clad head to toe in adamantine armor, gleaming gold.

At least a first- or second-rank warrior; his gear was impressive, certainly fearsome.

“You want money? I’ll give you—” If he truly had the confidence he claimed, he wouldn’t still be talking.

“Judgment of Sin.” Li En’s reply was simple, direct.

“You bastard!!” The roar was still in the air when half of it was cut off.

The silver blade was already upon him; against evil, the Holy Knight showed no honor—only ambush.

“Clang!”

But this time, Smite Evil was blocked.

In the next instant, Li En sheathed his blade and stepped back.

He frowned, staring at the golden shield—it was unnaturally hard.

“Ha! Even a Holy Knight’s strike means nothing against my shield! This is an ancient relic dug from an underground ruin—my treasure—”

“Smite Evil.”

But his reply was another swing.

“Clang!”

The massive shield remained, but the man was blasted backward several steps.

“Smite.”

Another blade strike hit the exact same spot.

“You—” The gang boss still roared, but the next blade was already in motion.

“Ding!”

Blade after blade, like hammers relentlessly striking the adamantine shield.

Each strike heavier than the last, each more brutal.

“Crack. Crack. Crack.”

The rhythm echoed through the hall like a drumbeat.

The young man’s face was cold; his hands swung the blade, retracted it—steady rhythm, each strike utterly focused.

When Li En finally sheathed his sword, the shield remained intact.

“Clang.” The shield dropped to the floor.

The man behind it? Shattered into pieces, blood gushing from all seven orifices, eyes wide open in death.

Armor Piercer—specialized can opener. Reliable.

Li En glanced around, looking for a thug to guide him to rescue the kidnapped girls.

This was only the beginning.

During these days of patrols and inspections, Li En had accumulated too many cases. Now that he possessed the “Gloves of Might,” he had the power—and began clearing them out.

One by one, dark forces fell beneath Li En’s blade.

The Oath Knight was harvesting efficiently, the so-called dark overlord in the eyes of the locals.

No one stopped him—for compared to the executioner, those mud-slicked thugs were unworthy.

Even the shadowy forces using them as black gloves had no reason to anger a sworn knight descending into madness over a bunch of trash.

“You think killing us ends it? Dream on! After we’re dead, chaos and turmoil will only grow worse—and the new boss will exploit even more ruthlessly. Hypocrite, I’ll be waiting for you below…”

One gang boss cursed Li En as he died.

He was stating a truth everyone already knew.

Such a large city must have sewers; when official authority falters, gray order naturally fills the void.

Removing one or two leaders solves nothing—new gray order still requires someone to take their place.

But what he received was the young man’s smile.

“I know.”

Li En knew perfectly well the problem lay with the system: even if these trafficker bosses died, others would rise—just another cycle.

But the deterrence of slaughter would make later arrivals more cautious, reducing the number of victims, and

“This time might be different. Someone promised me he’d break this gray cycle.” Li En shrugged.

“Though I doubt he can do it, I’m genuinely looking forward to it.” Thinking of the scene not long ago, Li En smiled—this time, sincerely.

This story begins several hours earlier.

Li En, having received his new gift, was still trying it on in his office.

Long Zhao was truly a man of refinement: he didn’t just send the cursed gauntlets of immense strength—he sent two at once.

Perhaps she hadn’t explained clearly enough, unaware of Li En’s limits, she sent one ogre gauntlet and one hill giant gauntlet.

Both were cursed gauntlets of immense strength, but their differences were vast: Li En estimated the ogre gauntlet would boost strength to over 12 points—the standard of a proper paladin—while the hill giant’s? That was beyond mortal reach, likely 17 or 18 points, possibly higher.

To put it plainly: the ogre was a maximally trained orc brute; the hill giant was a rock golem capable of toppling houses—their strength levels were not on the same scale.

Of course, the curses were correspondingly far stronger.

Li En tested one with a holy relic and found he couldn’t endure long-term use.

“Store it for now—might come in handy someday.” This thing was powerful; keeping it as a last resort was fine, but using it long-term was suicide.

With new gear in hand, Li En didn’t rush to test it.

His kill list was already long enough—he didn’t need to hurry now.

From morning until noon, he waited—for someone, though he didn’t know exactly who.

“I never expected it would be you.” Finally, someone arrived.

Through the open door stepped the person least expected by Li En.

“Bonecrusher” Dimon hesitated at the threshold, but ultimately took the step.

Yesterday, Li En had already thrown out a probe, subtly hinting that outside agents of the Heroic Souls might be lurking.

Talia, Long Zhao, even Larry—all could have guessed he was the “examiner,” since his real identity was the most fitting: a former Oath Knight of his age was something normally impossible to encounter.

The hinted identity of examiner was Li En’s tool to manipulate his pieces—signaling that everything was negotiable.

To eliminate certain things, Li En needed the candidates’ strength, and needed to directly command and control them in reality.

But this “identity” Li En could not reveal himself—he could only let them guess.

He waited alone in his office, waiting for them to come to him and negotiate—also testing their wisdom and decisiveness.

Only Dimon, Li En felt, lacked both the channel and the ability to know he was the Heroic Souls’ examiner.

It wasn’t a matter of ability—he lacked the knowledge and information networks, and the other candidates wouldn’t tell him.

“Sir Li En, the Paladin, I need your power. I know you’ve already regained your strength and plan to begin hunting.”

Oh—he came for Li En, not the “Examiner of Heroic Souls.”

“I know you: given the chance, you’d never let evil run rampant. You’ll act soon to cleanse them—if possible, I hope to cooperate with you.”

Dimon, outwardly simple-minded, was far smarter than Li En expected.

From information gained in the Hall of Heroic Souls, he deduced that once Li En obtained key gear and regained strength, he’d immediately begin killing.

So he came directly, seeking cooperation, trying to borrow that power.

“I understand you’re plainly trying to use me.”

In his calm tone lay unmasked killing intent.

“Yes.” No sooner had the word left his lips than Dimon froze—he felt the unhidden killing intent in those calm eyes.

If his answer displeased, he’d be purged as a “clever evil” without hesitation.

But gritting his teeth, he spoke the rest.

“I am using you—but you can use me too.”

“Me? Do you know what I want?”

“Peace and order in this district. You crave it—I do too!”

The boar-man stared at Li En; even as the weaker one, he refused to retreat a single step.

This was his choice—his one chance in a lifetime.

Dimon asked himself: compared to those obvious strong ones and nobles among the candidates, what right did he have to be considered among the aspirants of the Heroic Souls?

Last night’s dream gave him his revelation.

“They’re too pure.”

“But this world? It’s truly filthy.”

They couldn’t tolerate even a speck of dirt; they couldn’t walk alongside darkness—but could reality truly be any different?

Could charging ahead, shouting slogans, and fighting blindly solve anything?

No—it was impossible. Dimon, raised since childhood in the slums of the docks, understood better than anyone.

This place wasn’t without order—it was just an order cruel to the weak. It wasn’t without light—it was just buried beneath endless darkness.

“Even ignoring the lofty ideals of the Heroic Souls’ legacy, this is my chance. Those people are figures I could never reach in a lifetime. This—is my chance to change this slum!”

Though uneducated, Dimon saw clearly: this hell wasn’t about one or two people.

Boys here, when they grew up, had no jobs—either become pickpockets or enforcers.

As for women—no need to say more. He knew better than anyone what his mother did to feed the family.

Even if his brother hadn’t died at the hands of that serial killer, in a few years, when no choice remained, wouldn’t it be the same as death?

“I need to borrow your power—I want to become the greatest darkness in the docks, the top boss here.”

The words, crushed between his teeth, carried absolute resolve.

To hell with the holy Heroic Souls legacy—I just want my hometown to improve!

At least, don’t let children have no choice. Don’t let daughters of prostitutes become prostitutes. Don’t let sons of gamblers and brutes become gamblers and thugs.

If someone must be the darkness to maintain order here, why not me?

Now this outsider is betting everything—he’s about to shatter the existing order. This is his one chance in life.

“I’ll control the darkness here. Give them—give the children—a future they can choose for themselves.”

At that moment, Li En fell silent. He understood the man’s logic—but was startled by his decisiveness.

But words alone could never convince him.

“I roughly understand. You want to use my rampage to eliminate the bosses, then seize the chance to expand and become the top boss here.”

“Not just that—I need you to hint that you’re my patron.”

How bold. How blasphemous—to make a paladin the patron of “darkness.”

If this were a normal paladin—say, Larry—he’d already drawn his sword and fought to the death against this defamer of his honor.

But here was Li En—a paladin who in a week might no longer be one. A non-mainstream paladin who valued outcome justice over procedural justice.

He considered it: stripping away his personal preferences, if this man controlled the local gray forces, it would greatly aid his upcoming “frame-up” and “elimination of the serial killer.”

It meant countless eyes and tendrils embedded in the city.

But…

“How can I trust you? Even if you truly mean it now—what about the future you?”

The implication was clear: even if you’re sincere now, everyone can be corrupted by time. How can I trust the future boss of this district?

And Dimon had already thought of the answer.

“An oath. You’re an Oath Knight—you can swear an oath, right? I’m willing to stake everything.”

This time, even Li En was surprised by the man’s resolve.

The man had learned of the Oath Knight’s nature from the Hall of Heroic Souls—and applied it here.

He thought for a moment, then wrote down over twenty common paladin oaths.

“Under my witness, oaths hold power—but they’re merely constraints. Pick a few. Let me see your determination.”

The memory ended here. Even now, as Li En danced through slaughter, he was still astonished by Dimon’s utter resolve.

“He really dared to choose.” Dimon didn’t just choose—he chose the very thing Li En himself wouldn’t touch.

While Li En slaughtered wildly, at the door of a gang’s hideout, Dimon stormed in with his men.

Relying solely on an outsider’s power wouldn’t earn respect—he needed to prove himself to everyone.

His opponent, the boss, was a true transcendent.

Could he win? Theoretically, impossible. But he was willing to pay the price.

His massive frame swelled further; the hill giant bracers on his arms granted this non-transcendent terrifying physical strength.

Two cleavers had become battering rams; the cursed one unleashed fearsome power.

But the curse he suffered wasn’t as severe as expected—because Li En lied.

The origin of an Oath Knight lies in the witness of predecessors, each binding themselves to their oaths.

Constraints bring willpower—and willpower is the source of strength for paladin retainers.

“Never abandon protection of the innocent and weak.”

This was the most favored first oath among Oath Knights—except Dimon set his breach condition to grant him maximum power.

“The oath-breaker dies.”

He slammed into him, took a blow from the Boss, and shoved aside the stunned bystander.

If he could, he too would want to live as an ordinary cook. But did he have a choice? Did the children of the docks have a choice?

Is this “legacy”—either become a villain or become meat in a villain’s mouth—right?!

“No, never!”

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; the other candidates were towering figures he would never touch in this lifetime, and the Spirit Hero was a legend beyond the clouds.

“I will seize this chance to change my hometown, to change my younger siblings’ lives.” Climbing upward was merely a means—never forget the original goal.

Thus, the voice of his vow echoed in his ears, becoming a binding chain.

“Never abandon your inner morality and justice. Those who are truly consumed by darkness shall die.”

Someone must dirty their hands in this world. Since I am already in the darkness, let it be me.

This is my hometown—how could I ever entrust it to others?

“To forever cling to poverty and reject all temptations of wealth and pleasure—those who break this vow shall die.”

You feared that after becoming Boss, I would be tempted by money, beauty, and power. Yet I have no confidence I could resist such temptations in the future—so from the start, I refuse them.

A lifelong vow paid for with his life, clinging to poverty and his original heart, granted him greater vow-empowerment than when he first joined Suer’s recruits.

Three vows, three locks—this was the limit of mortals. Each breach penalty had been pushed to its extreme.

The vows protected him—two cleavers, slashing from street to street!

【The Thousand-Faced Dragon of History, incomprehensible, interferes with mortal fate, especially fond of guiding the birth of heroes. —Anonymous Historian.】

6000+ chapter, still seeking votes





(End of Chapter)