147: Bloodstained desolate path reveals the first signs of demonic power.
More than a month had passed since leaving Qinglan City. Mo Chen walked aimlessly southward along the dusty Official Road. He had witnessed the simplicity of the villages along the way and the hustle and bustle of small town markets; he had met a farm woman who kindly gave him a bowl of coarse rice and merchants who chased him away, mistaking him for a beggar.
He was like a dry sponge, desperately absorbing everything he saw and heard, trying to understand what kind of emotions were hidden behind those complex expressions.
He mimicked the smiles of passersby and learned the etiquette of others, but the emptiness and detachment deep within his eyes remained impossible to erase.
He never slackened in practicing the Unnamed Fist Technique, training day and night. The faint Blood Qi flowing within his body became smoother, and his physique had become much firmer; though still lean, he no longer looked like he would collapse with a gust of wind.
On this day, he arrived at a desolate mountain path with no villages or inns nearby. The setting sun sank low, painting the mountains crimson. The woods beside the path were deep and dark, and the cries of crows added a touch of desolation.
Just as he quickened his pace, hoping to find shelter before dark, three dark figures suddenly leaped out from the roadside, holding gleaming Chopping Knives, blocking his way.
"Stop! Kid, hand over all your money and valuables!" The leader was a Scar-faced Man with a fleshy face and fierce eyes. The other two also looked unkind; they were clearly bandits lying in wait.
Mo Chen stopped and looked at them calmly. He felt no fear, not even tension, but rather a hint of... curiosity. Was this "robbery"? Was this "evil"?
He shook his head, his voice still clear like a youth's but utterly devoid of emotion: "I have no money."
"Damn it, you refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!" The Scar-faced Man spat, swinging his knife to slash at Mo Chen. "Search him! Kill this blind fool!"
The other two also surrounded him with sinister grins.
If this had been Mo Chen a month ago, he would likely have submitted to execution. But now, his eyes narrowed, and the trajectory of the Dark Red Root Tendrils dancing in his dream naturally surfaced in his mind.
He shifted his footwork, his body swaying slightly like a ghost, narrowly avoiding the incoming Chopping Knife. At the same time, he pointed his right hand like a sword. The faint Blood Qi within him, carrying a trace of the Pillaging Concept, instantly gathered at his fingertip, striking the Scar-faced Man's knife-wielding wrist like lightning!
"Crack!"
A faint sound of bone cracking rang out!
"Ah—!" The Scar-faced Man screamed, his Chopping Knife clattering to the ground. He clutched his wrist, looking at Mo Chen in terror. "You... you're a Martial Artist?!"
The other two bandits were also startled, their movements involuntarily freezing.
Mo Chen did not reply. He felt the sensation of crushing bone transmitted through his fingertip, and his curiosity grew stronger. Was this... power? The power to decide the life and death of others?
His gaze swept over the three bandits. The ferocity on their faces was replaced by fear; their bodies trembled slightly, and their eyes darted away. This shift from dominance to weakness gave him a strange sense of... satisfaction.
"S-s-sir, I was blind! Spare me! Please spare me, brave hero!" The Scar-faced Man endured the sharp pain and dropped to his knees with a thud, kowtowing like a pestle pounding garlic. The other two quickly threw away their Chopping Knives and knelt, begging for mercy.
Mo Chen watched their pitiful begging, and the satisfaction in his heart quickly cooled, replaced by an indescribable... disgust. Bullying the weak and fearing the strong, being arrogant before and submissive after—was this humanity?
He slowly raised his hand, and the wisp of Blood Qi carrying the Concept of Annihilation condensed again at his fingertip. Killing them seemed like a simple matter. Like... crushing a few noisy insects.
"Stop!"
Just then, several shouts came from the woods beside the path. Several people carrying travel bags, looking like traveling merchants, emerged, clearly drawn by the commotion. Leading them was a Goatee Elder. He glanced at the bandits kneeling and begging for mercy and Mo Chen, who was poised to kill, and frowned.
"Little Brother, one should be merciful when possible," the elder said, his tone carrying a hint of admonishment. "Although they are bandits, they didn't take your life, and you haven't suffered much loss. Why pursue them to the death? Heaven has the virtue of cherishing life."
"Yes, yes, Little Brother, put down the butcher's knife."
"They already know their mistake; just give them a chance to reform."
The other merchants also chimed in, their words full of "benevolence and morality."
Mo Chen slowly turned his head to look at the merchants. Their faces carried a condescending "goodwill" and "sense of justice," as if they were upholding fairness.
He was silent for a moment. His eyes, which had gradually lost their emptiness and revealed a cold essence, swept over the merchants before returning to the trembling bandits on the ground.
"Hypocrisy."
He uttered two words softly, yet they pierced everyone's ears like ice picks.
The merchants froze, their expressions stiffening.
In the instant they were stunned, Mo Chen moved!
His figure was like a phantom, a wisp of gray Qi Force at his fingertip flashing across the throats of the three bandits!
"Uh..."
The bandits' pleas for mercy stopped abruptly. Their eyes widened with incredulous terror, and then their vitality rapidly dimmed. They fell softly to the ground, a tiny red dot visible on each throat, from which blood slowly seeped.
The entire process took only a single breath.
The mountain path was dead silent. Only the wind whimpered through the trees.
The merchants turned pale with fright, stumbling backward, looking at Mo Chen as if he were a demon crawled out of Hell.
"You... you actually..." The Goatee Elder pointed at Mo Chen, his finger trembling, unable to complete a sentence.
Mo Chen flicked his fingers, shaking off non-existent blood, and calmly surveyed the terrified merchants before finally settling his gaze on the three still-warm corpses.
"When they held knives to rob me, you were in the woods, silent."
"When they were weak and begging for mercy, you emerged, advising me to be merciful."
"If I had been the one who died just now, would you have come out and told them, 'one should be merciful when possible'?'"
His voice was still flat, yet every word struck them to the core.
The merchants were speechless, their faces alternating between green and white.
Mo Chen stopped looking at them, bent down, and searched the Scar-faced Man, finding a few copper coins and a low-quality jade pendant. He looked at the other two corpses but ultimately only took the copper coins. He tucked the coins into his pocket as if performing a trivial task.
Then, he looked up at the twilight sky, where the crimson color was fading. The pervasive emptiness in his heart seemed to have been filled by a small piece of that cold slaughter. A feeling called "control" quietly sprouted.
Ignoring the merchants who were nearly paralyzed with fear, he stepped over the bandits' corpses and continued his journey south.
His silhouette in the vast twilight was still thin, but now carried a chilling coldness that made one's heart palpitate.
This was the first time he had actively killed someone.
There was no anger, no hatred, not even much emotional fluctuation.
It was merely to verify power, to erase the "hypocrisy" he loathed, and to... fill the void in his heart.
The Demonic Nature had quietly revealed its first fang in the mortal world. And from beneath the sturdy Seal, a faint, yet profoundly satisfied... sigh seemed to echo.