Episode 61. Split by the Axe You Trust
“Where I came from doesn’t matter.”
“……”
“What matters now is that you don’t blink.”
The man’s eyes were bloodshot. A tear slipped down his cheek, and I warned him softly, “Three Great Finger Arts of the Martial World.”
Yes, I was the kind of man who’d show up at the Cloud and Rain Society and get into a staring contest with the gatekeeper.
“Where I came from? That’s a long story. I suppose I was born from my parents, but that’s not what you’re asking. Which region? Not that either. You mean, which faction sent me? Well, that’s a tale too long to—”
The gatekeeper’s patience snapped. He swallowed hard and said, “Please… spare me.”
“Spare you?”
“Yes.”
“No. A contest is a contest, and the loser takes the flick.”
I pressed my thumb and forefinger together and blew warm air between them, preparing my shot. The man began babbling in panic.
“I’ll pay the tab! I swear!”
“Don’t need it.”
His eyelid twitched. In that instant, I flicked his forehead.
Thwack!
He flipped backward through the air and landed flat, unconscious.
“Victory’s mine.”
I walked down the stone path into the compound, axe in hand, feeling the place reek faintly of deceit.
With most of Master Shui’s elite followers away, the inside was strangely quiet. I stopped at a small pond, watching nameless little fish dart about. Oddly, they swam toward me, mouths opening as if begging for food.
That’s what happens when you’re weak—you beg, trapped in a small pond.
I thought of Guangseung’s search for the great fish, the Dapeng. Perhaps it wasn’t about the fish itself but about strength—his own vast pride setting out to find a bigger ocean, stronger beings.
Bored, I moved on, glancing at the garden, the storerooms, and a large incinerator. A burly man was eating beside it. I asked, “What are you burning here?”
He looked me over and replied between bites, “Who are you?”
“Here to see Master Shui.”
“He’s not in.”
“Having lunch, I see.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone else inside? The vice-master, maybe?”
“Only guests. Vice-master’s out.”
I nodded toward the furnace. “So what’s burning?”
“Corpses. What else?”
“You folks burn corpses often?”
He chewed, scowling. “If someone doesn’t pay their debt. Orders are orders.”
I sighed. “Killing a man mid-meal… feels wrong somehow.”
He stopped eating and glared at me. I pointed at his bowl. “Finish it first.”
As I turned to go, he rose, grabbing an axe from beside the incinerator. “You’re no guest, are you?”
He advanced, muscles tightening, voice trembling with rage. “You’re no guest!”
Judging by his swing, he’d killed more than a few men—brute strength and solid technique, enough to massacre a dozen third-rate fighters. I didn’t feel like touching him. Instead, I flicked my finger toward his eyes.
Thwack!
He screamed, clutching his ruined eye. I kicked him in the gut, launching him straight into the incinerator’s mouth. As he tried to crawl out, I charged and shoved him back inside.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
His screams echoed, but no one came.
I picked up his fallen axe and headed for the main hall.
Music echoed louder as I approached. The door opened to a wide chamber. Dancers in sheer clothes swayed awkwardly while drunk martial artists watched below. Nobody even looked at me.
I walked onto the stage, axe in hand. The dancers screamed and fled, leaving me center stage.
“Now,” I said, setting the axe upright, “who’s going to turn on the lights?”
Only silence. Then, instead of fleeing, everyone drew their weapons.
Strange.
A while later, I sat cross-legged beside my blood-soaked axe. Apparently, they’d mistaken me for someone sent by the Martial Alliance. They’d all rushed me at once, so I had no choice but to kill them all. It didn’t take long.
I stared at the bodies and pondered what the Cloud and Rain Society actually did. I hadn’t learned a thing from them. The dancers weren’t worth asking—they were amateurs, barely trained. The dead men, on the other hand, looked rich.
If they’d truly been underworld men, some would have questioned me or fled. These hadn’t. Which meant most were wealthy martial heirs—noble brats playing thug.
It’s not unusual. The rich often get bored, and the underworld never turns down money. Meanwhile, the ones who suffer are the honest folk.
That’s why so many of the so-called righteous died by my hand in my previous life. I never drew the line. That’s how I climbed the rankings fast enough to make them set the Heaven Net after me.
Even after coming back to the past, some things just repeat.
But that’s fine. I’m still getting stronger.
Footsteps approached. I opened my eyes.
The doors burst open. The performers’ handlers and guards entered, faces pale. The vice-master, calm but wary, stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
When his men pulled down the curtains, the hall brightened. He looked to be in his thirties—composed, steady.
“Which faction are you from?” he asked. “You think you can handle our master?”
“Just came to collect a debt,” I replied lazily.
“A debt worth all this blood?”
“How much can you offer?”
He thought for a moment. “Three hundred gold bars. Fair?”
“Funny. That’s exactly what the Black Line Fort Lord owed me.”
He smirked. “Ah, so you owe him. Then take the three hundred from me and pay him back. Their collectors are worse than ours.”
“No need.”
“Why not?”
I mimed swinging an invisible staff. “I smashed his skull with a four-hit combo. Hard to collect debts when you’re paste. If you owed him money, you should thank me.”
The vice-master fell silent. I softened my tone. “Don’t run. If you do, I’ll only chase you. Don’t order your men to attack either, or I’ll ignore them and kill you first.”
“Then what? Should I fetch the gold?”
“No. Judging by how empty this place is, your troops are elsewhere. You’d just call reinforcements. Stay here with me. Let’s reflect on life. Mourn the dead. Think about how we ended up like this. None of us were born evil, right?”
At that moment, the front doors opened again, and more armed men quietly entered. Dozens. Yet the vice-master’s face didn’t change.
“You don’t want to talk?” I asked coldly. “We doing this the hard way?”
He inhaled slowly, raising a hand. For a second I thought he’d order an attack—but instead, he said, “All of you, out.”
His men withdrew. The hall fell silent again. He looked exhausted, like he’d just fought a hard battle.
“They’re gone,” he said. “Let’s settle this with words. I’ll cooperate. Hell, I’ll even betray my master if I have to. I can beg if that’s what it takes. So, what do you want?”
“When’s Master Shui returning?”
“Tonight, probably.”
“You think you can kill him?”
“Not alone. But if I attack with my elites—poison, ambush, traps—maybe. He’ll be drunk tonight. Easier then. I can do it. If I fail, kill me. You plan to kill him anyway, right? We can all die together.”
“A traitor, then.”
I stood, gripping the axe, and walked toward him. He didn’t move. My left hand stroked his head.
“They say Master Shui’s as strong as the Great Butcher. You sure you can handle him?”
“I’ve never fought him seri—”
I swung the axe down, splitting his skull cleanly in two.
Looking around the blood-soaked hall, I sighed. The whole Cloud and Rain Society was rotten—no one here worth saving. The corpse of a coward who bullied the weak and bowed to the strong lay sprawled across the stage, one more prop in this farce.