Chapter 14: The First Kill
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
Qin Ming got up slowly from the low wooden bench where he’d been sharpening his old woodcutting blade. After hours of careful grinding, the rusty tool now shone in the torchlight. He ran a thumb along its edge and nodded with quiet satisfaction.
“Yeah, this’ll do,” he said softly to himself. He gave a small grin and murmured, “Feng Yi An, Shao Cheng Feng… you lot have it coming. Still, it’d be a pity if someone decent got caught in the mess.” He paused, sighed, and began thinking through what he’d have to do next.
Later that evening, Old Man Liu and Xu Yue Ping sat across from each other, perched on rough stools in a cramped little room. They held tiny cups of fiery, spiced liquor, taking careful sips to make the drink last. The old man’s face was worn and tired as he swirled his cup thoughtfully.
“A deer for a life,” Old Man Liu muttered bitterly. “No sense of human decency at all. But I’m not about to tell the Qian family what I really think—not yet.”
Xu Yue Ping said nothing at first. He seemed distracted, worried about something else entirely. He knew Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng were on the verge of their second awakening, and that spelled trouble. If they gained more strength, things could get much worse for everyone here.
Just then, Qin Ming slipped into the room. He stood by the door, arms folded, and asked in a low voice, “So, is there anyone good left in the Mountain Patrol, or are they all rotten?”
Old Man Liu heaved a long sigh. “If most apples in a basket have gone bad, it’s just a matter of time before the rest turn too. The Mountain Patrol’s supposed to have twelve members, but now they’re down to nine. Anyone who doesn’t fit their ways is either shoved out or ‘taken care of’ in the mountains.” He made a grim face and took another tiny sip of liquor.
Qin Ming leaned against the short table, eyebrows raised. “So there’s no one out there to keep them in line?” His tone sounded both curious and annoyed, like a teenager frustrated with adults who never did the right thing.
Xu Yue Ping reached for the clay wine jar and poured Qin Ming the tiniest splash. He tapped the table, inviting Qin Ming to sit. The older man hesitated before he spoke. “Some of the other patrol groups don’t fancy them, either. Some hate their cruelty; others just see them as rivals for the best spots on the mountain. There’s been blood spilled over that, too.”
After a short pause, Xu Yue Ping went on, “And there’s Green Mulberry Village. They never got forced into planting Black Moon crops. That’s all thanks to a certain relative of Er Bing Zi—someone with real skill. Hard to say what their secret is, but it sure kept them safe.”
The older man looked Qin Ming straight in the eye. “Kid, you’ve got a strong start. Listen to me: once spring comes, you should head out of here. Don’t let yourself get stuck in this place like the rest of us.”
Qin Ming shrugged, trying to sound casual. “A plan, huh? I dunno… I just want to figure out where I came from. Before I got here, I remember running from some awful famine. After that, it’s all a blur.”
Xu Yue Ping’s expression softened. “Oh, right. I’d nearly forgotten.” He looked as if he wanted to comfort Qin Ming but didn’t quite know how. Instead, he changed the subject. He told Qin Ming about Red Glow City—how brightly it shimmered, how it bustled with people, how it offered richer meditation techniques and better breathing exercises. Maybe Qin Ming could find answers there, or at least new opportunities.
Old Man Liu nodded in agreement. “Yes, Qin, you’re still young. Why not set out and chase your dreams? Trust me, if you stick around here, you’ll end up like me—too old, too tired, and filled with regrets.”
Xu Yue Ping chuckled. “Uncle Liu, weren’t you something special back when you were my age?”
The old man gave a sheepish grin. “Who wasn’t young once, lad?”
Qin Ming leaned forward, curious now. “C’mon, Uncle Liu. What kind of ambitions did you have back then?”
Old Man Liu’s gaze drifted off into memories. “Oh, back in my day, I was wild and fearless. I dreamed of taming a Named Beast from the mountains. And I planned to marry the prettiest girl around.”
Qin Ming smirked. “So… how’d that turn out?”
The old man chuckled, raising his cup as if to toast his younger self. “I joined the Mountain Patrol for a mission and ran headlong into that Named Beast. Nearly got me and my pals wiped out. I was hurt so badly I never managed a second awakening. And the girl? She wed my biggest rival!”
Qin Ming made a sympathetic face, lifting his cup. “Ouch, that’s rough, Uncle.”
Old Man Liu laughed louder this time. “Don’t feel too bad. In the end, I married my rival’s sister. Now he has to call me ‘brother-in-law’ every time he sees me. Small victories, lad!”
Qin Ming couldn’t help grinning. “That’s priceless!”
The three of them stayed there, stretching out their half-cups of liquor, talking and laughing until the night sky began to pale.
Back at his little home, Qin Ming cleaned his iron bow. It had beast carvings etched into it, though it was old and worn. He tested its pull carefully—too much force and it might snap now. “Still good enough,” he murmured, deciding it would serve for at least one more night. He filled his beast-hide quiver with iron-tipped arrows and packed a spare set of clothes.
He gazed up at the sky, dark and distant. “Tomorrow’s a full moon,” he whispered, deciding to get a good night’s rest. He needed to be ready.
He woke in the small hours, long before sunrise. The silence outside pressed in heavily. Slipping into the courtyard, he nudged open the old wooden gate and stepped into the night. The world beyond was pitch-black and bone-chillingly cold. Most people wouldn’t see a thing in that darkness, but Qin Ming’s awakened senses let him catch enough details to find his way.
He avoided the Fire Spring area, choosing a more isolated path through thick woods. Snow had been falling for days, and now it was piled high, muffling every sound. The night air was razor-sharp, and his black hair drifted in the wind, dusted with icy flakes. Although he looked slender, there was a quiet strength in his body, and his footsteps were calm, measured.
Images of hurt villagers flashed in his mind—injuries caused by the Mountain Patrol’s cruelty. He remembered Feng Yi An bringing that deer to Old Man Qian’s funeral, mocking them all. Enough was enough. Tonight, Qin Ming would settle things.
He pushed deeper into the mountains. He didn’t feel like an attacker—more like he was returning somewhere familiar. The forest crackled with hidden life. He saw strange silhouettes flicker behind trees, heard low growls, the beat of wings, and spotted eyes glowing red, green, and silver in the undergrowth.
Then he moved—fast as a spring-loaded trap. He lunged at a large beast lurking in the shadows. His blade flashed once, and a heavy thud followed. The creature’s head hit the snowy ground, blood spraying out. Its six-hundred-pound body slumped in silence. At once, other glowing eyes blinked out, vanishing into the dark. Nothing dared challenge him now.
He continued on, focused on his goal. Behind him, hidden predators tore into the dead beast’s corpse, snarling as they fought over the bloody scraps. But Qin Ming never looked back.
At last, he reached a high vantage point overlooking the Fire Spring base. It was still dark, but he saw a tall figure already awake, feeding raw chunks of meat to a fierce golden mastiff. Qin Ming recognized him from the stories—Fu En Tao, a huge man nearly two meters tall, with curly black hair. One of the strongest men in the group.
He spotted Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng, too, stepping out of rough wooden huts. “They got here early,” Qin Ming thought, frowning. They must have arrived before dawn.
He didn’t rush down. He decided to take out the four who weren’t there yet. He moved lower along a narrow path, choosing a perfect spot to lie in wait. Snow drifted steadily, dusting his hair and shoulders. Gradually, the sky paled, but it was still dim enough for an ambush.
Soon, a man in a beast-fur cloak appeared, trudging up the trail. Qin Ming recognized him—one of those who tormented Xu Yue Ping in Silver Vine Town. Without warning, Qin Ming sprang from behind a tree, slamming into the man with a force that cracked his bones. The man’s eyes bulged in terror. Before he could let out a single scream, Qin Ming’s fingers tightened around his throat, twisting with dreadful strength. The man’s neck snapped, and his head flopped to a terrible angle. Dead in an instant.
Qin Ming dragged the body into the dark forest. The corpse stank of booze and cheap perfume. Qin Ming took a shaky breath. This was his first human kill, and it felt odd, but he steadied himself. He’d seen blood before—hunting beasts, witnessing cruel violence—and he’d do what needed to be done.
“You killed villagers just to force them into planting Black Moon,” Qin Ming said under his breath, glaring at the lifeless form. “You were worse than any monster in these mountains.” With that, he pushed his unease aside and focused on the task at hand. He would stop these men tonight, whatever it took.
Not long after, a second man came along, wearing armor like Shao Cheng Feng’s. Qin Ming waited, still as a statue, then rushed in. The armored man tried to duck and dodge, but Qin Ming was faster. The blade flashed, the head flew, and the body collapsed forward into the snow.
Qin Ming wiped the blade clean, his heart oddly calm now. The snowfall thickened, swirling in the wind, and he welcomed it. The heavier the snow, the easier it would be to hide his tracks.
He stood waiting again, silent and patient, for the third and fourth men. When they finally appeared, they met the same swift, merciless end. Qin Ming did not flinch. He simply did what had to be done.
All his gentle smiles for little Wen Rui in the village and his quiet respect for Uncle Liu existed side by side with this ruthless determination. If these men wanted to live like beasts, then Qin Ming would treat them as such.
Now, with four bodies left behind in the snowy darkness, Qin Ming turned toward the Mountain Patrol’s base. There was no turning back. He would face them alone, a single figure in the swirling snow.
And so Qin Ming’s first human kill marked the start of something dark and far from finished.