Chapter Forty-Four: The Outcome

The fastest runners were Lei Yongyuan and Ding Wanhao. Any Red Sect members who attempted to block their path were swiftly struck down, allowing them to break through the encirclement by sheer force.

Qin Yi refused to be left behind, following the two not far behind, head down as he ran.

To be honest, he hadn’t expected that a simple mission to leave the city would end with them being ambushed by the Red Sect.

Behind them, the slower constables fell one after another, hacked down to the ground.

Shrieks of agony filled the air.

“Ah, don’t kill me, please, I surrender, I surrender!” One constable, who had joined the yamen the same day as Qin Yi, found himself surrounded. Despair and terror gripped him as he raised his hands in surrender.

But with a sickening sound, his head flew into the air, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if to ask, “I’ve already surrendered—why kill me still?”

Qin Yi slashed a Red Sect member who charged at him from the left, sending the enemy flying, and continued after the captain and the others, who were fleeing desperately ahead.

Gradually, the screams behind him faded.

Only five or six people managed to break out, while more than a dozen Red Sect experts pursued them relentlessly.

“Heh… Now that you’ve delivered yourselves, don’t bother running. It’s pointless!” Wang Kuntai laughed coldly as he chased after them at high speed.

More screams erupted.

The few colleagues behind Qin Yi were effortlessly dispatched by Wang Kuntai, Zhang Can, and their men.

Now, only three fugitives remained: Lei Yongyuan, furthest ahead; Ding Wanhao, a few strides ahead of Qin Yi; and Qin Yi himself.

“Qin Feng, I order you, stop them!” Ding Wanhao glanced back and saw Wang Kuntai only seven or eight zhang behind. Panic overwhelmed him.

Qin Yi glanced at Ding Wanhao but said nothing. Instead, he picked up his pace, about to overtake him.

“You! Stop them for me!” Ding Wanhao, furious that Qin Yi ignored him and was about to pass him, lashed out with a kick.

But in the next instant, he realized he’d kicked nothing but air, and suddenly pain exploded in his abdomen—he was kicked to the ground!

Ding Wanhao lay there, face full of shock and confusion. Wasn’t Qin Yi only at the third stage?

A dull thud. Wang Kuntai had somehow appeared beside him, smashing a fist into his head. Darkness claimed Ding Wanhao immediately.

“Ha! Infighting, is it?” Wang Kuntai mocked with a laugh.

“Brother Zhang, I’ll leave this one to you. I’ll take care of the captain!” Wang Kuntai’s speed surged as he overtook Qin Yi, racing toward Lei Yongyuan ahead.

“Damn it, I have no choice!” Lei Yongyuan, realizing he couldn’t outrun his pursuer, spun around and slashed at Wang Kuntai with all his might.

Every ounce of strength and timing was poured into this strike. Even an opponent of the same rank could fall to such a move if careless.

But the silver flash of his blade was abruptly intercepted before Wang Kuntai—stopped dead by a silver dagger that parried his long sword.

Ignoring the numbness in his hands, Lei Yongyuan lashed out with a kick.

But before his foot could land, Wang Kuntai’s kick struck first, forcing his leg back down.

“One Mountain!” Lei Yongyuan roared, unleashing his left palm with tremendous force.

It was a secret technique, allowing his sixth-stage strength to explode with the power of a seventh-stage blow.

Just as the palm was about to strike Wang Kuntai’s forehead, a flash of silver split the air.

“Falling Star!”

Lei Yongyuan’s left hand separated from his body, blood spraying. As he screamed, two more silver flashes stabbed into his chest, burying themselves deep.

“So… fast!” Lei Yongyuan coughed blood wildly, staggering backward step by step, until finally, with a crash, he collapsed to the ground.

“Boring.” Wang Kuntai strode over, pulled the two daggers free, and turned around.

But then—he froze.

Behind him, Zhang Can’s head was nowhere to be seen, his headless corpse toppling to the ground. The more than ten subordinates who had followed were also lying dead in pools of blood.

Wang Kuntai’s expression turned to stone, his throat dry. His eyes locked onto the burly youth before him, an overwhelming sense of danger rising in his heart.

In the time it took to kill a sixth-stage constable, Zhang Can—another seventh-stage expert—and over a dozen skilled subordinates had been slaughtered by this young man.

Eighth stage? Ninth, perhaps?

But the man before him seemed far too young!

“I’m not used to wielding a blade. It doesn’t come naturally. Next time, I’ll have to learn a proper sword technique.” Qin Yi tossed aside the bloodstained blade and walked toward Wang Kuntai step by step.

Each pace made Wang Kuntai’s scalp prickle with dread.

It was a pressure he’d only felt when the branch master was testing his strength.

“You’re not really a constable, are you?” Wang Kuntai refused to believe a mere constable possessed such power. Perhaps he was some young prodigy, toying with the mortal world?

“At this moment, I am just a lowly constable,” Qin Yi replied, without stopping.

“Would you spare me? Or perhaps join our Red Sect? With your abilities, you’d easily be a Hall Master!” Wang Kuntai was desperate to avoid a fight with this man.

“As a Hall Master, could I learn martial arts of the ninth stage?” Qin Yi asked.

Wang Kuntai hesitated for a split second, then quickly said, “Yes, you could!”

“But you hesitated,” Qin Yi’s voice turned cold again.

“Then—I’ll fight!” Wang Kuntai steeled himself and surged forward.

In a few heartbeats, he was upon Qin Yi.

Both hands wielded silver daggers, slashing at his target in twin arcs of silver light.

Qin Yi darted left and right, dodging the attacks like lightning.

“Driving Rain!”

The silver light flashed again, doubling from two to four, then six, then eight—until the air was thick with blades.

Like a torrential downpour, they fell upon Qin Yi.

Then the silver vanished.

Wang Kuntai panted, arms numb—but Qin Yi was nowhere to be seen.

“Not good!”

A tremendous force, layered with wave upon wave of impact, struck the back of his neck.

Crack!

Every bone in Wang Kuntai’s neck snapped, and his body flew forward.

He hit the ground with a thud, rolling like a dead pig. His legs twitched once, and then he lay still.

“Roughly the same strength as Xue Yintu—must not have learned any first-rate martial arts.” Qin Yi shook his head lightly.

He quickly searched the corpses, but after only three, the sound of hurried footsteps and chaotic voices echoed from afar.

The large group of Red Sect followers was approaching. Qin Yi had no choice but to abandon the remaining bodies and vanish into the forest.

Night fell.

The gates of the prefectural city had closed. Outside, the open ground lay silent and still.

A solitary figure ran breathlessly toward the city gate, calling out with every step, “Open the gate! Open the gate!”

“Who goes there?” From atop the walls, the city guards spotted the figure and immediately drew their bows, arrows nocked and ready to fire.

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