Chapter 63: Aftereffects

Zuo Zhicheng escorted Jiang Qing back to the martial hall.

Jiang Tianzheng asked for the details of what happened, then said, “Xiao Zuo, why don’t you stay here for the night?”

“It’s fine. I can take a roundabout way back.” Zuo Zhicheng smiled warmly. “Those guys probably won’t even remember me after a few days if they can’t find me.”

Jiang Tianzheng nodded. “That works too. But if you run into them alone again, remember not to act recklessly.”

“If you see them, run fast!” said Jiang Qing, who was lying on a chair with a sprained ankle. “But I’m not worried about that. You’re surprisingly quick on your feet. Actually, how about this…” She looked at Master Jiang. “Dad, why don’t you walk him home? And if we see those jerks, you can beat them up!”

Jiang Tianzheng seemed tempted, though not by the idea of fighting, but by the thought of accompanying Zuo Zhicheng home.

After some more polite conversation and declining Jiang Tianzheng’s offer to walk him home, Zuo Zhicheng finally left the martial hall. The father and daughter’s enthusiasm felt more troublesome to him than fighting Blood Rakshasa.

By then, night had completely fallen. A bright Moon hung in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the streets.

On his way home, he noticed someone following him. Then he spotted several figures at the next corner. Through thermal imaging, he detected over twenty people hiding in alleyways, corners, and behind doors.

Zuo Zhicheng hadn’t expected them to come for him tonight when he hadn’t even gone looking for them yet. Of course, it also had to do with his route home—he had taken his usual path, which cut through their territory.

Tuoki, his face still swollen, stepped forward and sneered, “Run! You’re good at running, aren’t you? Let’s see how you run now.”

Surrounding Zuo Zhicheng were more than twenty Western Indians, all watching him with mocking, malicious expressions.

In their experience, any ordinary person—even those used to street fights—would be terrified when surrounded by so many people.

Zuo Zhicheng glanced around. Though it was a small alley, people lived behind these walls. It wasn’t the right place for a fight.

He looked up at the Moon and said, “Lead the way. I don’t have much time. Let’s get this over with quickly.”

“Still talking tough, huh?” Tuoki took Zuo Zhicheng’s calm tone as false bravado. With a menacing glare, he said, “We’ll see how tough you are in a minute.”

“Soon we’ll see him crying.”

“Haha, let’s go. It’s too late to beg for mercy now.”

Zuo Zhicheng frowned but didn’t bother arguing. Surrounded by the group, he walked toward the outskirts on the west side of the city.

Along the way, the Western Indians hurled insults and threats at him. Seeing Zuo Zhicheng remain silent, they assumed he was scared out of his wits.

It made sense—being forced along by over twenty people, not knowing what would happen to him, would frighten anyone. Remembering the men and women they had dragged here before, they grinned excitedly.

But things began to change slightly once they entered a small grove on the outskirts.

Zuo Zhicheng sniffed the air. It’s the smell of a corpse. He glanced down and fixed his eyes on a patch of freshly turned soil.

Is the body buried there?

Of course, what might horrify an ordinary person seemed clumsy and amateurish to Zuo Zhicheng—like a child playing at murder.

In modern times, they’d probably be caught the next day. As he thought this, the twenty-plus people closed in around him. Tuoki picked up a shovel from under a tree; its edge was stained with a dark reddish color.

Zuo Zhicheng knew that color well—it was the shade of dried blood.

Gripping the shovel handle, Tuoki gave a vicious smile. “Kid, I’ll ask you once: who was that woman? It’s better if you don’t answer. I’ll break one of your legs, then the other, until you talk.”

Someone whispered, “Boss, he’s from Haoran Martial Hall. Maybe we shouldn’t go too far. Let’s just…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Tuoki’s bloodshot eyes glared at him fiercely. As someone who had long been part of the underworld in Xinlu Port and risen to lead this group, Tuoki carried an intimidating, murderous aura. His stare silenced the underling.

The worst thing in these situations was disunity. After scanning the crowd and seeing no further objections, Tuoki smirked and turned back to Zuo Zhicheng. “Kid, if you get on your knees and beg now, I might go easy on you.”

It was a lie, but in Tuoki’s experience, most people would still yield under such threats—no matter how tough they seemed before.

This was his favorite part of the process. But under his expectant gaze, Zuo Zhicheng showed no sign of submission.

The next moment, a sharp whistle cut through the air—the sound of a fist tearing through the atmosphere.

Tuoki didn’t understand the power behind that sound, but he saw the thin teenager throw a casual punch at his companion, Suosi. Suosi was the strongest and best fighter among them, someone who could hold his own against three or five opponents.

But now, after that seemingly effortless punch, Suosi let out a cry, clutched his nose, and collapsed to the ground, blood streaming down his face.

“Get him!” Tuoki roared. He swung the shovel hard at Zuo Zhicheng’s head.

Faced with this attack, Zuo Zhicheng calmly raised his right hand, caught the shovel’s handle, and with a slight tug, took it from Tuoki. His composure made it look as if Tuoki had handed it over.

Tuoki braced himself, expecting Zuo Zhicheng to strike back with the shovel. Instead, Zuo Zhicheng simply tossed it far into the bushes—just to keep anyone else from using it against him.

In his mind, he thought, Don’t damage the shovel. I’ll need it later to dig a hole.