Normally, the sight of blood would scare people off. They'd flinch or step back. But not Xu Bin. This was the first real fight in his life where he'd drawn blood—not counting the childhood scrapes and tumbles. Watching blood gush thickly from the top of the man's head across from him, his eyes rolling back—Xu Bin didn't feel fear. He felt exhilaration. A surge of adrenaline that made his blood boil. It had nothing to do with the skill "Chosen by the Gods." Even without the system, even before it all, he knew he would've felt the same high.
There was no system in his head now, no skills to rely on—only the humiliating memory of being jumped by a group. You dare beat me? Then I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you!
With that fire in his chest, Xu Bin bolted toward his shop a dozen meters away. Just then, at the narrow vehicle access at the end of the street, Zhong Yu's so-called "boyfriend" pulled up in his car—the one who always came to take her out. But instead of swaggering, the man just got out, walked over to Zhong Yu and asked if she was alright, and then pulled out his phone to call for help. The thugs around him, still gripping their sticks, looked more like lost dogs than bullies.
Xu Bin stormed into his shop, yanked out the machete, blood dripping from his forehead blurring his vision. He grabbed a rag from the corner of the table, wiped his face, then instinctively wrapped the cloth around his dominant hand holding the blade. As he charged back out, his eyes briefly met those of Zhong Yu and her boyfriend. That single glance—they would never forget it for the rest of their lives. They didn't want to believe what it meant, but couldn't deny it: there was a chilling, deathly aura in that stare. The quiet, unimpressive guy next door—the one who seemed so easygoing—was someone who could kill.
Barely half a minute had passed. Che Dong and the others were still frozen, staring dumbly at the bloodied man on the ground. Che Dong fumed. These guys he brought in from the mahjong hall—sure, they could yell and strut, but when it came down to real action? Useless. One guy gets brained, and now he'd have to pay the damn hospital bill. "Xu Shuangquan, you little—"
His rage never got to boil over. Because Xu Bin burst from the shop, machete in hand, blood still trickling down his face.
The hell? The punk's actually got a blade?! Che Dong raised his wooden stick and rushed him.
Xu Bin didn't dodge. His blade flashed in a clean arc.
It wasn't a stab. Not a slice. It was a full-force cleave—exactly the kind of brutal swing that gave this type of blade its lethality. The scene was gruesome, though maybe not as dramatic as the movies. No geysers of blood. Just the blade cutting through Che Dong's chest, followed by a startled grunt—not even a scream, the pain hadn't registered yet.
Humans are visual creatures. Seeing the blade cut through his own flesh and the blood that followed scared Che Dong far more than the actual pain. Xu Shuangquan actually did it?! He really swung the damn thing?!
After the charge, the draw of the blade, the first chop—Xu Bin's anger began to recede, replaced by fear. Then he remembered the "Chosen by the Gods" skill. Riding the last waves of rage, he swung again, this time landing square on Che Dong's shoulder. The man collapsed, face twisted in terror. "He's trying to kill me! Help! Murder!"
A hard mask shattered, revealing a cowardly soul.
Xu Bin, eyes blazing, now turned toward the rest of the gang. The security guards of the pedestrian street stood at a safe distance. A man with a blade? For a monthly salary of barely a thousand yuan? You'd have to be insane to charge in. Even ten unarmed cops wouldn't dare make a move in this moment.
"Ahhhh!"
As Xu Bin landed a cut on one of the thugs, the rest bolted. They didn't resist. Why would they? All they were promised was a meal, some smokes, and a massage. They weren't about to risk their lives. They ran so fast it looked like they'd been training for sprints.
Xu Bin turned back, machete still dripping. Che Dong, now feeling the pain, tried to scoot backward on his ass, eyes filled with raw fear. "Don't come any closer! I-I'm warning you!"
A smart man knows how to press the advantage.
Xu Bin crouched. Without a word, he stabbed the machete into Che Dong's thigh. The scream that followed was a wretched mix of agony and terror. Then, raising the blade again, Xu Bin aimed at his head. Che Dong trembled so violently he lost control of his bladder.
Right then, the police from the nearby station arrived.
Xu Bin unwound the rag from his hand, set the blade aside, and calmly sat on the curb. He used the table rag to wipe his face and forehead, then raised his hands toward the police, making it clear—he wouldn't resist.
"I was defending myself. They came here smashing my store and attacking me. Everyone can testify."
He shouted loud enough for all to hear. He was the victor—and on home turf. Even if he wasn't all that close with his neighbors, everyone respected someone who dared to defend himself with lethal force. Zhong Yu could vouch for him too. After all, Che Dong and his crew had barged into her shop. That was attempted robbery, assault—whatever name you gave it, they started it. That they ended up beaten and bloodied just showed they'd messed with the wrong guy.
Sure, Xu Bin's last strike might've been "excessive force"—Che Dong wasn't resisting anymore—but after the hospital check-up? Xu Bin had three cuts. The thug had a brick to the head. All minor. Just flesh wounds. So the idea of "excessive force" didn't hold much weight. After sorting things out, the police mediated.
Che Dong didn't even dare use the few hundred yuan Xu Bin left behind for his treatment. He got bandaged and transferred to another hospital immediately. That very night, Li Jiuren came to Xu Bin's shop to make peace—with real sincerity.
A man who dares to kill? Even the King of Hell keeps his distance.
Especially someone like Xu Bin—quiet, unassuming, not the type to start trouble. People like that? You never provoke them. They're just living their lives, minding their business. If you go picking fights and end up getting wrecked, you'll be the one everyone laughs at. What's the point of seeking revenge? Even your own people would think you're pathetic. Why'd you go poke the bear?
Li Jiuren brought two thousand yuan—some to cover the hospital bill, and some as a peace offering. Che Dong was terrified now. He was just a countryside thug who'd learned a trade and moved to the provincial capital, living off shady deals and protection rackets. He could bluff and scare people. But the second he met someone really dangerous? He folded. A blade to the body hurts like hell.
Xu Bin wasn't someone who looked for fights. Never had been. This time he was pushed too far. The system gave him that extra edge. The machete got confiscated, he got a firm warning at the station, had to renew his temporary permit. But now, Xu Bin's name rang out in the pedestrian district. No one knew whether he'd seek trouble—but they all knew: if you messed with him, you'd better be ready for blood.
He took the money and said just one thing:
"Let's pretend we don't know each other. From now on, we're strangers. I won't come after you—but if anyone you bring tries something again, I won't hold back."
Talk was cheap. Xu Bin had acted. If he'd said something like that before, Li Jiuren would've sneered. But now? Xu Bin had actually swung a blade. If Che Dong hadn't pissed himself, that last strike might've been to the head.
"Got it," Li Jiuren nodded. "Oh, by the way—some of the guys pooled together a few used appliances. We'll send them over soon. If you think any are worth fixing, keep them. Now that you've made a name for yourself, help your fellow tradesmen out a bit. Life's tough out here."
"Life's tough." Those two words summed up the reality for men on the edge of the city. They weren't like construction workers who earned big with brute strength. Those guys had no attachment to the city. They made their money and went home. Their families were far away. They didn't care about the city—they just worked. And with labor prices rising in recent years, even the so-called "hard laborers" now earned over ten thousand a month. Far more than these humble, barely-scraping-by craftsmen.
After Li Jiuren left, Xu Bin touched his still-aching head. The pain from the beating returned. Zhong Yu hadn't come back yet. He sighed. All the good girls get snatched up by pigs. She was great. But she wasn't his. She got beaten because of him, then was taken away by her boyfriend. He'd probably spend the night comforting her.
It's gonna be one hell of a night, Xu Bin thought.
He shut the metal shutter and lay back on his small single bed. His body ached, but his heart raced. So this… this is what it feels like to be feared. Damn, it feels good.
He drifted off, pain slowly overtaken by sleep. It was the best way to escape the throbbing.
Somewhere in that foggy half-sleep, a chill swept over his body. He opened his eyes slightly—and saw Zhong Yu sitting at the head of the bed, watching him.
Maybe it was gratitude. Maybe it was the fever. Maybe he was dreaming.
Whatever the reason, he suddenly reached up, pulled her into his arms, and whispered hoarsely, "Zhong Yu, I like you…"
She struggled. He was bold, even in his dreams, arms clamped tight. Her resistance softened. Her soft body pressed against his, the faint scent of her hair filled his nose, her warmth stirring his body. His hands wandered.
"Xu Bin, wake up! You've got a fever!"
Suddenly, she shoved him hard. Her voice, urgent and flustered, snapped him awake. He blinked and realized—this wasn't a dream.
He was actually holding her.