Chapter Twenty-Five: Slaying the Wanted Criminal

Yang Fan took out his ID card and swiped it on the task retrieval machine, then accepted a mission in Kunshan City to apprehend a first-rank martial apprentice-level fugitive. The target was not particularly strong and was quite close by. Usually, students would accept multiple nearby missions and complete them all at once. However, for Yang Fan, this mission was no longer about the resources—it marked the true beginning of his path as a cultivator, demanding a shift in mindset.

He could no longer look at this ever-changing world with the heart of an ordinary person.

After taking the mission, Yang Fan went to the Resource Exchange Center, where Fatty handed him five second-tier Blood Replenishing Pills, costing him fifteen credits. Half of the thirty credits he’d just been awarded were gone in an instant. Next, he went to the infirmary and bought a large bottle of ointment for external injuries from Ouyang Yunlei, spending another five credits. He understood the logic of being prepared; even if he didn’t need the medicine this time, he’d use it eventually.

...

"Hello? Senior Sister Zhou Ting?" Yang Fan asked, holding the phone.

"What is it?" Zhou Ting’s voice came from the other end.

"It’s nothing major. I just wanted to ask you: what should I be wary of when going out on a mission?" Yang Fan inquired.

"The local Cultivator Administration Bureau will inform you of the specific situation. Most of the time, they’re aware of the target’s whereabouts. When you arrive, go straight to them and you’ll get the latest information. When facing the target, don’t entertain any other thoughts. These people are all desperate criminals. If you hesitate or show mercy, there’s a good chance you’ll be killed instead. You must approach them with the heart of a killer—even if the mission is to capture, you must strike ruthlessly. Don’t assume that just because it’s a capture mission and not an assassination that you can afford to go easy. That’s dangerous for you. Other than that, there’s not much else. These missions aren’t hard; as long as you’re more ruthless than they are, you’ll have no problem," Zhou Ting explained patiently.

"Since the Cultivator Administration Bureau knows their movements, why don’t they capture them themselves?" Yang Fan was puzzled—if they had the target’s whereabouts, why couldn’t they just arrest them?

"First, the Bureau’s capabilities are limited. The true experts are all out at the relics, and those left behind in each city aren’t very strong. There are also too few combat-ready personnel. Second, this is an opportunity provided by the government for the various cultivator academies. The purpose of training students isn’t to raise hothouse flowers. A martial artist who has never experienced real combat isn’t truly a martial artist; cultivation alone isn’t enough. These criminals are essentially practice targets for us students at the academies," Zhou Ting explained.

"I see. Thank you, Senior Sister. I’ll hang up now," Yang Fan replied after understanding.

"Be careful on your first mission. Remember, you must harden your heart. If you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you. You’re the one I brought back; don’t embarrass me," Zhou Ting reminded him.

"Yes, I understand, Senior Sister. Thank you. I’m ready," Yang Fan said, then hung up.

...

Jiangsu Province, Kunshan City.

The birthplace of Kunqu Opera. It was three in the afternoon.

Inside the Cultivator Administration Bureau, Yang Fan listened to two staff members introduce the case.

"Zhang Zhiqiang, male, 25, first-rank martial apprentice cultivator. Out of personal vendetta, he killed three people. He’s an A-level fugitive and is currently hiding near Yushan Town. Here are his photos," one of them said, handing Yang Fan several pictures.

Yang Fan took a look—a young face, quite ordinary, even rather amiable in appearance. Yet, this seemingly easygoing man had killed three people. The reasons were unknown to Yang Fan, nor did he need to know.

"Young man, Zhang Zhiqiang is an A-level fugitive. If possible, capture him; if not, killing him on the spot is acceptable. Just make sure you’re safe," the staff member repeated.

He needn’t have said it; Yang Fan was already prepared to kill. He’d taken Zhou Ting’s words to heart. Even a lion goes all out when hunting a rabbit—how could he do any less?

...

Daylight faded, and night gradually fell.

Yushan Town wasn’t far from Kunshan City, and transportation was convenient. Zhang Zhiqiang was currently relaxing with a drink in a small courtyard.

It had been a while since he’d enjoyed such leisure. Ever since being listed as a fugitive, Zhang Zhiqiang had been on the run, only arriving in Yushan Town the day before yesterday.

"Heh, I change locations every few days. I don’t believe you can still catch me. Just three days ago I was in Wuxi, now I’m in Yushan. Think you can catch me that easily?" he muttered to himself as he drank, trying to comfort himself. Life on the run was hard, and if he could regret, Zhang Zhiqiang would never have chosen to kill—this life was too miserable.

As he was savoring this rare moment of peace, Yang Fan was already outside the courtyard wall.

His heart was still a bit anxious; despite his resolve, he felt nervous at the critical moment.

"Forget it. It’s just killing someone; it was bound to happen sooner or later. But how should I get in? Break down the door? Climb the wall? Or what?"

Yang Fan gripped his blade, pondering.

"Climbing the wall will make less noise."

He crouched slightly and leapt, clearing the two-meter wall in a single bound.

Zhang Zhiqiang saw Yang Fan leap in from outside and immediately choked on his wine, coughing violently.

Yang Fan saw his opening; as soon as he landed, he charged straight at Zhang Zhiqiang.

Ignoring the burning in his throat, Zhang Zhiqiang grabbed his machete from the table and swung at Yang Fan.

Yang Fan halted, steadying his stance, and drew his blade to parry.

Clang!

Zhang Zhiqiang staggered back nearly a meter, while Yang Fan didn’t take a single step back. This was the difference in their ranks—Yang Fan had already reached the second rank; even with only basic bone refinement, he was far stronger than a first-rank like Zhang Zhiqiang.

Before Zhang Zhiqiang could steady himself, Yang Fan sprang forward, his body bent low, and in the blink of an eye, he was upon him.

Raising his blade, two flashes of cold steel erupted.

A sickening sound filled the air.

Yang Fan immediately felt his stomach churn and doubled over, retching.

Zhang Zhiqiang lay sprawled on the ground, his head at least three meters from his body.

After unleashing the Thunderblade Technique, which he had just mastered, Yang Fan struck twice—once at the chest, once severing the head.

Blood covered Yang Fan’s face, spraying everywhere when he decapitated Zhang Zhiqiang. Seeing the corpse and the separated head, Yang Fan almost lost his dinner from the night before.

"Damn, that’s disgusting. Why the hell did I cut off his head? Ugh..."

The more he thought about it, the more nauseous he felt. Rather than feeling the emotional turmoil he had anticipated, all that remained was revulsion.

Fighting nausea, Yang Fan called the Kunshan Cultivator Administration Bureau to come collect the body—and, while they were at it, bring him a change of clothes.

Before long, the Bureau staff arrived—it was the same two who had briefed him earlier.

They hadn’t expected things to be over so quickly. They didn’t know Yang Fan’s level—sending a second-rank, trained in martial techniques, against an untrained first-rank was a one-sided slaughter.

Upon seeing the corpse, both staff members immediately started vomiting, just as Yang Fan had.

They had handled corpse retrieval before, but such incidents were rare in Kunshan, and it was their first time seeing a decapitated body.

By then, some locals had gathered to gawk.

The two from the Bureau seemed indifferent to the spectacle. Let them look; a short news article tomorrow would gloss it over. In this era of the internet, the media held all the real power.

When the Bureau had finished, Yang Fan emerged from the house, face still pale but cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes.

The mission had gone unexpectedly smoothly. It had been Yang Fan’s first fight against another person, yet the process was effortless—a single parry, two strikes, and it was over. He hadn’t realized killing could happen so quickly.

"Are you all right, kid? You look awfully pale," one of the Bureau staff asked.

"I’m fine. You don’t look so great yourselves," Yang Fan replied.

They forced a wry smile; they’d meant to comfort him, but clearly, it wasn’t necessary.

"We’ll handle things here. You’ve completed your mission; you’re free to go," they said.

Yang Fan nodded, sheathed his blade under his coat, and left.

On the high-speed train from Kunshan to the Magic City, Yang Fan’s heart gradually settled.

Killing someone didn’t seem as hard as he’d imagined!

That was his genuine feeling. He realized he’d overestimated the emotional impact—apart from the nausea, there was little else. The fear, trembling, and regret he’d anticipated never materialized. He even wondered if he was abnormal: his first killing, and aside from disgust, he felt nothing. Wasn’t that a sign of a psychopath?

Yang Fan didn’t return to the Magic City Cultivation Academy until the early hours. The area was so remote it was difficult to catch a cab; many drivers refused to pick him up, much to his frustration.

Upon entering his dorm, Yang Fan just wanted a good shower and some rest. Though the killing hadn’t shaken him much, he was still mentally exhausted.

Just then, his phone rang again.

He answered, and Zhou Ting’s voice came through.

"You’re back?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine."

"Get some rest. Don’t think too much."

"Okay."

After hanging up, Yang Fan thought about telling Zhou Ting he felt no guilt over killing, but hesitated. First, he didn’t want her to think he was a psychopath; after all, feeling nothing after a first kill wasn’t normal. Second, since she’d called to show concern, it wouldn’t do to tell her he was totally unfazed and lively.

He washed up and went to bed.

...

Over the next twenty days, Yang Fan continued his usual training—stance work and blade practice. He had no intention of attending classes, preferring to wait quietly for the academy’s competition. Although he didn’t know when it would be held, being assigned a dedicated instructor for tailored guidance would be far better than going through the motions with the masses.

During these days, Yang Fan still took on occasional missions, mostly around the Magic City. He didn’t venture far, as his cash reserves were limited—having only outflow with no income was tough. He’d managed to accumulate 145 credits, but there was no way to convert them into cash.

Such is life—full of little frustrations.