He always remembered the feeling the first time blood splattered on his face.
Hot, fishy, and it carried a sweetness he had never smelled before.
Seizing the half-eaten chicken leg from the opposing bowl and biting into it, only one thought surged through his heart: killing was so exhilarating, and chicken legs were so delicious.
Though he greatly yearned for that feeling, nine-year-old Lin Xing had understood both his own weakness and the dangers of the world. He needed to learn to disguise himself and to only make a move when he was certain of success.
Therefore, he had to suppress the urge deep within and continue to mix with the beggars, living a life of begging, theft, and robbery every day.
Days passed, one by one, and he gradually became the leader of a group of beggars, his desire for slaughter growing stronger and stronger.
