Shan Mei raised her hand, not hurried, not tense… just a light, horizontal motion, like she was brushing away dust from the air.
It seemed pointless.
Even laughable.
A desperate girl swinging her arm in fear?
But then, a gust formed.
And a concentrated green crescent of light shot from her fingertips like a wind-blade.
It whistled once, sharp and clean.
And in the blink of an eye, the three men walking toward them were cleaved clean through the waist.
Their upper halves slid forward.
Their lower halves crumpled.
Blood sprayed into the air like a crimson fountain.
Their mouths twitched open in disbelief… and then silence.
And just like that, the laughter died.
Not from the dead.
But from the living.
Those who had just been howling with delight, mid-jest, now froze in place.
Those who had raised cups to mock Hong Wei coming back… now trembled.
Even Hong Wei, who stood behind Shan Mei, witnessing the strike of a cultivator for the first time, was left breathless.
The chaos of jeering and revelry vanished.
The clearing fell eerily silent.
Only the sound of Shan Mei's footsteps remained, echoing with a chilling calm as she walked forward, as if blood had never touched the ground.
Then came the voices.
A few stunned, broken mutterings from the men who had not yet found the courage to run:
"…H-how did she do that?"
"She didn't even touch them… just waved her hand…"
"Is she… a cultivator?"
"Why is a woman like her following that brat!?"
The trembling grew louder. Some scrambled back on all fours. Others who were holding their weapons dropped them altogether.
And yet, Hong Wei didn't even glance at them. He didn't care for their pleas, their regret, or their pathetic attempts at begging for mercy. His eyes remained fixed on Shan Mei, glowing with awe, lit with desire. Not for blood… but for power.
When? When would he have this kind of strength?
"Aaaaagh!"
Another scream echoed as Shan Mei moved again, and another body was torn apart like paper.
And in that moment, something inside Hong Wei began to calm.
The boiling fury… it all started to settle.
Should a man from the modern world, one raised with laws and restraint, stay unphased in the face of this kind of slaughter and even rejoice at it?
Maybe not. But these were not humans.
They were beasts in human skin.
No, less than beasts… they were filth.
Filth that had to be cleansed.
The Black Dog Gang had long ruled the fringes of this town like wolves in a sheepfold. They extorted. They killed. They violated.
There was no wickedness they hadn't committed.
And the town magistrate, the so-called governor of this place? He had never raised a sword against them. And simply put some restriction on them… or so, it was said.
Anyway, if the law would not act, then Hong Wei would.
Was this not a world where the strong preyed on the weak?
Then let this be his first step into that truth.
The screams of the dying, their panicked wails and pleading shrieks… to him, they became melody.
Each cry was a note, and each death a verse in the symphony of justice.
Soon enough, no one remained.
No one… aside from Wang Ergou, who was still screaming, half-crawling, half-wailing in the blood-soaked dirt.
And at last, Hong Wei began to move.
He stepped through the shattered gate of the Black Dog Gang's courtyard, past broken bodies and puddles of gore, toward Shan Mei, whose presence was like a white lotus shining on this filthy swamp.
She stood in the middle of the yard, her sleeves unstained, her gaze distant
"Thak you for your hard work." Hong Wei said quietly as he approached, his voice calm, but filed with emotion.
But Shan Mei gently shook her head and said, "I still haven't finished the job. There's someone hiding."
Hong Wei blinked, then swept his gaze across the dilapidated compound. He looked over each shack, each leaning wall, but he saw nothing.
Still, he let out a soft breath and replied, "Even so, you did well."
Shan Mei simply smiled, before she turned and began walking toward one of the buildings.
It was larger than the rest, built with better wood, and cleaner windows… a place meant for someone who believed himself above the rest.
Hong Wei didn't follow. His attention had fallen to the man writhing on the ground before him.
Wang Ergou.
He had bullied his predecessor since they were children.
Only two years older.
But now, looking at that pathetic figure, snot dripping from his nose, tears running down his cheeks, legs butchered, groveling in blood and filth, the gap between them felt like more than just years.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Hong Wei's fists clenched. He stepped forward, lowering himself slowly, calmly, until he stood just over the trembling wreck of a man.
And then, he began to punch.
How dare this scum have some thoughts about my mother?
The thought repeated in his mind like a curse.
How dare he laugh at her suffering?
His fist connected with flesh. Again. And again.
His knuckles split. Blood spilled. Not just Ergou's, but his own, yet, he didn't stop.
Wang Ergou screamed for mercy. Screamed for his life.
The same voice that once laughed at another's pain now cracked and whimpered.
Somewhere else, the sound of the gang leader, who had actually recognized that Shan Mei was a cultivator and was begging for her to spare his life, didn't register in his ears.
And all his mind was on paying the fucker under him… for what he had done to him previously, and for what he said about his mother.