novelapdf Chapter 4: Heads
Chapter 4: Heads
The others didn't dare laugh; they just watched, holding their breath.
The Thousand-Armed Rakshasa raised his wine cup, waiting to see how the other party would respond.
Xue Bufeng's gaze was finally drawn to the jarring laughter.
His gaze swept over Pan Xiaoan's gold and jade ornaments and the fawning women, landing on Shi Yaoxian's sharp face. With just a glance, an undisguised contempt surfaced in his eyes.
He spoke, his voice not loud, but clearly drowning out the last whisper:
"Where did these small fry come from?"
The entire inn was utterly silent.
Pan Xiaoan's smile froze on his face, and the two girls' giggles stopped abruptly as they covered their mouths in horror.
Shi Yaoxian's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red. He slammed his hand on the table, stood up abruptly, and pointed at the young man, his finger trembling slightly with anger.
"Kid! What...what did you say? Say it again if you dare!"
Xue Bufeng didn't even bother to look at him a second time, as if he were just some nobody chattering in his ear, and only left three words:
You don't deserve it.
"court death!"
Shi Yaoxian was absolutely furious!
He had been traveling the martial arts world for many years, and with his sharp acupoint striking skills and ruthless internal palm strikes, he had earned the reputation of "One-Finger Soul Chaser". He had never suffered such humiliation.
Especially in public, under the watchful eyes of everyone!
Such humiliation, coupled with the pressure of having to perform well in front of Pan Xiaoan, instantly overwhelmed his reason.
"Let me show you the power of the Soul-Chasing Finger!"
He shouted sharply, and his figure suddenly rose up, like a large gray bird swooping down on Xue Bufu's back!
While in mid-air, his right hand was held together like a halberd, with his index and middle fingers joined together. The tips of his fingers were faintly tinged with a bluish-black color. With a sharp whooshing sound, he stabbed Xue Bufeng's "Lingtai" acupoint on his back!
This finger strike is swift and ruthless, and contains a sinister internal force. If it lands on the target, the victim will either die or be crippled!
"Great finger strength!"
"As expected of the One-Finger Soul Chaser!"
"This young man is doomed!"
There were quite a few discerning people in the inn who couldn't help but gasp when they saw this, as if they could already foresee the tragic scene of Xue Bufu's blood being spilled on the spot.
Pan Xiaoan's face broke into a smug smile again, and Thousand-Handed Rakshasa nodded slightly, seemingly acknowledging that his finger technique was indeed unique.
Xue Bufeng, however, seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, or perhaps he simply didn't take the finger that could pierce through a cow's belly seriously.
He didn't even stop walking.
Just as Shi Yaoxian's fingertips were about to touch his robes—
A light shone.
A bewitching, poignant, crescent-shaped light, like a crescent moon stained with blood!
No one saw how he turned around or drew his sword.
That blood-patterned scimitar seemed to have always been in that position, as if it was meant to draw that fatal arc.
The light flashed briefly and then disappeared.
"laugh--"
The faint sound of a sharp blade slicing through flesh and bone was chillingly clear in the suddenly deathly silent inn.
Shi Yaoqian's lunging figure suddenly froze in mid-air, his fury instantly turning into utter bewilderment and disbelief.
He tried to look down at his neck.
Then, his vision was reversed, and his head fell smoothly from his neck, landing with a "thud" on the greasy ground. It rolled forward twice, still staring with its astonished little eyes wide open.
The headless body remained frozen in a forward-pointing position for a moment before blood gushed out of its neck like a fountain, splattering onto nearby tables, chairs, the ground, and several diners who couldn't dodge in time.
"Thump."
The body fell, landing just three steps behind Xue Bufu.
The entire inn was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Only the howling north wind outside the door and the gurgling sound of the headless corpse's blood could be heard.
Pan Xiaoan's smugness had turned deathly pale, and the wine glass in his hand clattered onto the table, spilling wine all over himself.
The woman next to him covered her mouth tightly, trembling with fear.
The Thousand-Armed Rakshasa paused at her lips, her beautiful eyes revealing solemnity and deep apprehension.
All eyes, fixed with unparalleled shock, were focused on this young man who seemed to have only come in to escape the wind and snow.
The snow is still falling.
Blood slowly dripped down the last inch of the blade's arc.
Xue Bufeng's knife was very fast.
Xue Bufeng has always killed without shedding blood.
However, there is one exception!
It's when you want the other person to die in more pain, or to die more slowly.
"despair."
With a soft sound, blood fell into the larger pool of blood beside Shi Yaoxian's headless corpse, splashing up tiny, insignificant ripples.
Xue Bufeng's gaze had already passed over the crimson area and landed on Pan Xiaoan's pale face.
His gaze was indifferent, as if he were looking at a piece of wood.
"Now."
Xue Bufeng spoke, coldly asking, "What else do you have to say?"
Pan Xiaoan's hands were trembling so badly that the wine glass in his hand had long since fallen to the ground.
His fair face turned deathly pale, his lips trembled, and his teeth chattered softly.
Adorned with gold and jewels, he now resembled a comical puppet waiting to be harvested.
"Spare...spare my life..."
The two words were squeezed out between his teeth, broken and incoherent, but in the deathly silent inn, everyone heard them clearly.
The two beautiful women who had been fawning over him earlier had already shrunk under the table, huddled together, trembling.
A hint of undisguised disgust flashed across the eyes of the Thousand-Armed Rakshasa.
She has always disliked men, especially those who are all bark and no bite and who are cowardly and afraid of death.
Xue Bufeng seemed not to hear the pleas for mercy.
"Lie down."
He said it in a calm tone, as if he were instructing a waiter to refill his wine:
"Learn to bark like a dog, and crawl around this inn three times."
Pan Xiaoan trembled violently, and his face flushed with humiliation.
He was a wealthy and powerful man who spent money like water; he had never suffered such humiliation before.
He subconsciously wanted to straighten his back and say a few tough words, but when his eyes fell on Shi Yaoxian's head, which was still open and frozen in expression, and the large patch of thick, dark blood on the ground, his pitiful courage vanished without a trace, like boiling water poured on snow.
Survival is more important than anything else.
Under the watchful eyes of countless people, Pan Xiaoan slowly and tremblingly slid off the chair, landing on his hands and feet, truly sprawling on the ground.
He lowered his head, not daring to look at anyone, and made muffled, dog-like noises in his throat as he began to crawl around the edge of the inn on his hands and feet.
He climbed very slowly and with great difficulty.
The gorgeous silk robes dragged on the greasy ground, covered in dust and wine stains.
The seven or eight gemstone rings clattered against the ground as they crawled, making a soft, tinkling sound, as if providing accompaniment to their ugly gait.
One lap, two laps, three laps.
No one laughed.
Even the most rugged and robust man felt a chill run from his feet to the top of his head.
Death is not scary.
What's terrifying is that dignity is crushed inch by inch, and you have to do it yourself.
The Thousand-Armed Rakshasa's eyes were almost overflowing with disgust. She turned her gaze away, as if looking at her any longer would taint her eyes.
An unknown amount of time passed.
After climbing three laps, I finally finished.
Pan Xiaoan stopped not far from Xue Bufu's feet, still not daring to get up. He could only lift his head with difficulty, his face covered in snot and tears, filthy with dust.
He looked at Xue Bufu, his eyes filled with humble pleading.