Chapter 58: The Bounty (Part 1)

Zuo Zhicheng raced ahead without stopping. On the way, he used his large coat to wrap up Blood Rakshasa and Junior Brother Ellis, who were both unconscious. This stopped the constant dripping of blood onto the road.

They weren’t actually dead, of course. He had just beaten them to the brink of death. Such valuable captives could yield who-knew-how-much intelligence; killing them carelessly made no sense when Zuo Zhicheng needed information. He simply let everyone at the Martial Hall believe they had perished.

So he sped onward. After shaking off the last few pursuers, he reached the deserted courtyard.

Moving aside the enormous water jar on the ground, unlocking the chains on the iron door, Zuo Zhicheng slowly descended with his captives into the darkness below.

After securing them both and applying hasty bandages to their wounds, he quickly removed his disguise. Then he hurried towards Chaoyang Martial Hall.

Even from a distance, he could see a blaze of lights illuminating the area. People crowded around the Martial Hall in concentric circles.

Stretcher bearers carried the injured to medical clinics without stopping. Others already lay in coffins. Over ten doctors had been summoned through the night, rushing to treat the wounded.

Zuo Zhicheng inched his way through the throng of people, finally reaching the Martial Hall’s training ground.

Heavy silence hung in the air. Amidst the field of corpses, a young woman in white knelt on the ground. She flipped through the bodies one by one.

The thick pools of congealed blood, the shattered body parts—it was clear each motion cost her effort. Her face went as pale as paper. She looked like she might break at any moment.

Zuo Zhicheng paused for a moment. Silently, he walked to stand before her. She lifted her head. Tears still shimmered in her eyes. Her hands, soaked in blood, clutched at his clothes fiercely. She pulled him close.

Then she abruptly shoved him away. Thud! Thud! Her fists pounded his chest one after another.

“Why did you have to act like that!? Showing off?”

“Your Martial Arts level is so low! Why did you stand guard out there!?”

“Why be so stupid!?”

After this barrage of fists and feet, she finally stopped, panting heavily. She saw Zuo Zhicheng grimacing tightly. His complexion had gone slightly green. Panic flooded her face. Worried urgently, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say something when I hit you?”

Seeing her pale, tearful look, Zuo Zhicheng let out a weak sigh. “It’s nothing. Think I broke a few ribs earlier.”

“How? Did Blood Rakshasa hit you?”

Zuo Zhicheng shook his head simply. “After you hid under the bed, I stayed outside guarding the door. Blood Rakshasa came later. I thought we were dead for sure. Tried to charge out to draw her away. But suddenly, a masked man appeared. He rescued me.”

“Though when he pushed me aside, Blood Rakshasa kicked me unconscious before I got out. Just woke up.” He gave his side a bitter tap. “Lucky it’s just the ribs though. Better than… these brothers on the ground.”

“Then why didn’t you go to the clinic first?” Jiang Qing nodded decisively. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him toward the gate. “Broken ribs are dangerous! Bad break punctures a lung or something, you’d die! Why run around like this?”

“Doctor! Doctor! We have an injured man here!”

Zuo Zhicheng watched the girl fussing beside him. The anxious, flustered look on her face… a strange light flickered deep within his eyes.

Serious wounds like this… countless times in his past life. Hiding in civilians’ homes to recuperate, fleeing through forests while patching himself up. Sometimes, rushed to top-tier surgery rooms. More often… just deep in darkness, licking my wounds alone in the dark.

‘We are butchers, scum. Fiends of the Mortal Realm.’

‘Emotion is a weakness. Friends are nothing but burdens.’

Fragments of that past life still echoed vaguely inside his head.

But this time… someone stared at him with concern. Complained about him. Wanted to care for him.

Jiang Qing turned around. Noticing the strange look in Zuo Zhicheng’s eyes, she rubbed her face absently. “What is it? Pain somewhere? Other injuries too?”

“Nothing,” Zuo Zhicheng shook his head.

‘Killing her would eliminate one possible weakness.’

Though the thought surfaced clearly, Zuo Zhicheng naturally didn’t kill Jiang Qing in the end. Yet… in doing so, his life gained one extra self-imposed weakness.

As for Blood Rakshasa’s death… it unleashed violent chaos throughout Xinlu Port. After this event, the Sea Dragon Gang collapsed further. They retreated from over seventy percent of their territory.

Meanwhile, the previously suppressed Hundred Families Association rose as Xinlu Port’s strongest faction.

Among Xinlu’s eighteen Martial Halls, thirty-six practitioners perished. After solemn funeral rites, they forged the Xinlu Martial Arts Association. This made it Xinlu Port’s only organization strong enough to rival the Hundred Families Association in pure fighting strength.

But naturally, these turbulent, cascading changes… bore little relevance to Zuo Zhicheng himself.

…

Ellis was mixed-race. Weight pressed against his eyelids. Total darkness surrounded him. Stops felt tight against both wrists and ankles.

That hazy, semi-conscious state seemed eternal. How long? He vaguely recalled waking. Something fed to him? Then a distinct foul odor… Such brief moments of alertness never lasted. He always plunged back into nothingness.

Impossible to measure how long passed… Slowly, Ellis stirred. Crawled up from that murky void of unconsciousness. He opened his eyes. Blinding light stabbed at them everywhere!

Either seconds or minutes later, his eyes finally adapted to the brightness.

This appeared to be some kind of cellar. Yet oil lamps burned all around. Over a dozen. Everything shone brightly. They’d strapped him into a chair. Binding technique old-school-professional. No wiggle room whatsoever. His original wounds? All neatly bandaged.

Right before him sat an enormous laboratory bench. Covered entirely with glass jars and bottles. Spacious arrangement. Strange liquids and solids filled some containers.

‘Resembles the labs of those Taoist Priests,’ Ellis thought unconsciously. But the jars here stood meticulously aligned. Each had a pasted label with writing Ellis didn’t recognize. An entirely alien script.

Any Earthling there would understand: labels read “Alum,” “Aluminium Hydroxide,” “Methane,” etc.

To his left, Ellis saw an imposing cabinet. Dozens of identical black big coats hung neatly inside.

The overall impression? Scrupulously clean. Utterly organized. Every item appeared sorted logically. Room’s master must be obsessively strict. Meticulous thing-filed-where-it-goes sort.

‘Ghost Fist?’ Ellis had already recalled being defeated, then captured by Ghost Fist. Right then—a muffled sob from behind him. Female. His pulse jumped. Excited, “Senior Sister? Is it you?”

At that moment, chains scraped harshly. Metal door frame thudded below the stairs. Footsteps approached steadily. Then a tall man walked calmly towards Ellis.

Ellis saw the white mask. He began struggling wildly. Aggressive tone snapped out, “Ghost Fist! Don’t know who I belong to?! I’m Dìyù Gate! They will hunt you! They will find this place! Capture you—kill you! Not just you, idiot! Every friend, relative, loved one… all die!”

Zuo Zhicheng ignored the threat entirely. Piece by methodical piece, he stripped away his Ghost Fist disguise. Carefully collected hair into a cloth bag. Retracted padded inserts back into the cabinet. The coat bore bloodstains now—tossed casually into an iron drum. For burning later.

He’d just spent hours outside wearing the Ghost Fists mantle, monitoring Xinlu Port’s latest turbulent shifts.

No matter the furious curses Ellis hurled, Zuo Zhicheng remained silent. Expressionless. He meticulously stored each item. Like some emotionless constructed thing.

Seeing the real face when Zuo Zhicheng uncovered completely—Ellis stared shock-still. Behind him, the choked muffled sounds stopped hushed—then renewed explosively after a deep inhale!