Chapter 15: Ruthlessness
At night, inside a dark, foul-smelling thatched hut, two rugged men—one tall, the other short—lay sprawled on their straw mats. They chewed on flatbreads snatched from a refugee and muttered to each other.
“What did Zhang Dalang say?”
“That scoundrel said, one big and one small, four strings of cash. If we ask for more, he won’t pay a single coin...”
“Heartless bastard. One day, I’ll chop off his head to drink with.”
“Sigh, I say four strings isn’t too bad. Save up a bit more, and when we get out of here next spring, it’ll be enough for us to enjoy some carefree days in the city.”
“Who knows what next year will be like? Aunt Pang said the grain prices in the city change daily. By the time we get out, our hard-earned winter savings might not even cover one night in her boarding house.”
Truth be told, both men were somewhat disappointed. Though earning a bit more with one big and one small kid was better, it didn’t compare to having a young woman to hold and call comforting.
“To get her to the marketplace will take some effort. That bigger kid looks cold and distant—forcing her might not work.”
“Hah, how tough can a kid be? She can’t overturn the heavens.”
“Hmm, then tomorrow we’ll try to persuade her to go. If that doesn’t work, we’ll act tomorrow night—tie her up and carry her over.”
“Not waiting for Aunt Pang? She needs servants in her boarding house...”
“Waiting for what? It’s freezing cold; who knows when she’ll come.”
Having settled on their plan, the two men broke into coarse, filthy laughter. In the darkness, their vile chuckles echoed miserably.
These two were desperate outlaws—roofless above, without a foothold below—living on the edge of the law. Their talk, aside from past glories, always circled back to women. If they made it into the city, they’d mingle with lowlifes and thugs, among the lowest rungs of the Sui Dynasty’s social order.
Their age dictated they were no longer fit for work as hired knives, bodyguards, or killers. Their existence was truly precarious.
Yet, here in the refugee camp, these two could decide others’ fates.
But on this day, their luck finally ran out.
---
The two men chatted idly, trying to distract themselves from the biting winter cold. Suddenly, an unexpected knock echoed from the broken wooden door.
They fell silent, startled.
The knocking continued. They exchanged wary glances in the dark.
“Who is it...?”
After a pause, the tall, thin man reluctantly rose, hunched his shoulders, and moved to open the door.
Though feared by others in the refugee camp, these two were untouchable here—this place was their safest haven. No one dared cross them.
Despite the oddity, they felt little alarm, only curiosity about who would knock at their door.
No answer came; the knocks paused, then resumed.
Irritated, the tall man flung open the door, ready to confront the bold trespasser.
A shadowy figure stood there, outlined in darkness. Two gleaming eyes shone in the night. Upon seeing the door open, the figure smiled, revealing a row of white teeth.
The tall man sensed danger instantly, instinctively raising his head and opening his mouth to shout.
But in a flash, the figure’s fist struck his throat. The knuckles slammed into his Adam’s apple with a crisp crack, muffling his scream.
His eyes widened to their limits, face contorted as he clutched his throat, gasping with a rattling sound. His complexion shifted from purple-red to pale as death.
When he tried to retreat or collapse, a badly scarred hand grabbed his collar, preventing him from falling, pushing him back inside the hut and slamming the door shut.
It was Li Po.
Peering inside, Li Po saw the dark interior illuminated faintly by moonlight filtering through holes in the roof, revealing the other man’s form.
In moments, the tall man’s body slackened, eyes rolled white, and blood-tinged drool dripped from his lips.
Li Po had crushed the man’s Adam’s apple, extinguishing his life utterly.
It all happened too fast. The limping man, never having faced such deadly peril, was stunned.
He couldn’t imagine that merely exchanging glances with these two men earlier would prompt such a brutal, midnight attack.
---
Though their lives were riddled with strife and sin, they had never encountered someone so ruthless.
The limping man leaned against a pillar, staring blankly at the tall man’s retreating body, making strange noises. Then terror gripped him; tales of mountain and forest ghosts flashed through his mind.
“A ghost... possessed?”
Li Po gave him no time for such fantasies.
Releasing his grip, the tall man’s corpse fell lifelessly to the ground, eyes blank and white, face turned up to the moonlight, saliva mixed with blood staining his mouth—an eerie, dreadful sight.
Like a mountain antelope, Li Po nimbly vaulted over the corpse, bounding forward in two swift leaps.
The terrified limper couldn’t rise but instinctively grabbed a short knife nearby and drew it.
Before the blade was halfway out, Li Po’s knee crashed into his chest.
With a grunt, the limper gasped, mouth wide open but no sound escaping.
The pillar behind him held him upright but robbed him of any chance to struggle.
The pillar cracked with a snap as Li Po slammed down hard, simultaneously flinging the broken wood far away.
The splintered wood pierced the limper’s waist under the force.
He whimpered in pain, suddenly arching his body.
Li Po pressed him down, immobilizing him completely.
His fierce eyes locked onto the dying man’s gaze, watching the light fade from them before slowly standing.
The commotion stirred the neighboring huts, voices arising—clearly alert to the disturbance.
(Two updates today; please recommend and bookmark.)