Chapter 400: There’s One Restaurant on the Plain Hill, and Two Hammers (7)

The silhouette of a woman lying under the blankets on the bed was noticeably curved.

Even knowing she was a musclewoman in a bridal veil, seeing that curve again—it was simply a man’s fate to get hard at the sight.

Hammer’s expression twisted into one of pure lechery.

"Hey, Earthwork Immortal Lady. Guests have arrived, and this is how you welcome them, lying down like that?”

Hammer called out, but the woman didn’t so much as stir.

He let out a sleazy snicker.

“Keh-heh-heh, doesn’t know a damn thing about the ways of the world. You could carry her off on your back and she wouldn’t even notice.”

As he said this, he yanked the blanket off with a flourish.

And ta-da. Regrettably—it’s just blankets.

And jingle-jingle! That would be a bell.

“What the fuck?”

One might scoff at falling for such a basic trick, but truthfully, it was a trap anyone could’ve fallen into.

How could the Earthwork Immortal Lady have known about the Killing Moon Sect’s ambush and prepared in advance? Even if she had known, how could she have known when they’d strike and cleared the bed in time?

But before all that—instinct kicked in. That unique, unorthodox kind of instinct.

Fucked. This is really fucking fucked.

Just as Hammer raised his voice—

“Goddamn it! Everyone—”

—Aaaaargh!

A blood-curdling scream echoed from beyond the wall.

And on the south-facing wall of the bedroom, where wooden lattice held paper panels to form the jangji door, shadows of people cast across the surface.

“Brother...?”

“It’s a trap. Everyone hide. Don’t know who the bastards are, but if they rush in, hit them all at once and use the chaos to escape.”

Despite his dull-witted looks, Hammer made a swift judgment.

The Three Unorthodox Factions of Guangzhou were the Golden Talisman Sect, the Guangzhou Immortal Square Sect, and the Killing Moon Sect.

Groups with names ending in -bang (which denoted trade guilds) were occupational: the Golden Talisman Guild specialized in moneylending, while the Guangzhou Immortal Square Guild was involved in maritime construction and shipping.

The Killing Moon Sect? Pure power—an underworld syndicate that took over with brute force.

And Hammer was the enforcer who had clawed his way through the back alleys to become the Killing Moon Sect’s action squad leader.

So the unorthodox fighters stuck to the corners, gripping their weapons tightly and holding their breath.

Clang-clang! Clatter!

Something came flying and shattered against the jangji door, creating a noisy racket.

Some pierced right through the paper and burst inside the room, instantly filling the air with the thick stench of oil.

Anyone would immediately think: firebombs. These bastards were planning to burn people alive.

The Killing Moon Sect’s fighters exchanged glances—and then, all at once, stomped the floor and sprang into action.

Qing listened intently.

Seemed like one of them was searching a separate room, while the remaining five had all rushed into the bedroom.

Leaving the Jin clan people in the courtyard, Qing silently melted into the shadows.

Not that Qing ever made much noise to begin with.

Of course, when it came to stealth, she was definitely lacking.

Not because she lacked training in stealth techniques, but because her very nature was loud and bold—sneaking around on tiptoe just wasn’t her thing.

Even so, the fact she moved so quietly now proved the stealth lessons had been somewhat effective.

A villa, no matter how big, was still just a villa.

She quickly found the bastard rifling through the house.

“Fuck, it’s all cleaned out.”

He yanked open every cabinet and drawer, groping around, but what was there to find in a villa that had been empty from the start?

Still, he didn’t give up—driven by sheer stubbornness, he kept focusing on opening drawers and cupboards, so much so that he didn’t notice Qing standing right behind him, hammer in hand.

If someone had been watching this, they’d be shouting, “Behind you! Behind you!”

Qing, for her part, was quietly tailing him, wondering just how long it would take for him to notice her.

And then—jingle-jingle...

The sound of bells tickled her ears. Qing’s lips stretched wide into a grin.

Ding. Too bad. Time’s up.

“My, my. Defiling a shrine? You’ll be punished by the heavens. No, by Qing.”

“Gah!”

The man jolted in terror and whipped around—but already, with a vicious whoosh, the hammer’s head cleaved through the air.

Swung at a slight angle, it crashed down on the bastard’s foot!

CRACK! That bone-grinding, sickening sound of flesh being pulverized.

In the blink of an eye, the skin ruptured, the bone shattered—the living flesh crushed under weight.

No inner energy involved, just pure brute strength. The sheer, solid ecstasy of compression drilled into Qing’s palm like a dream.

“Haaauh...”

A soft moan escaped Qing’s lips without her realizing—but it was buried under a louder scream.

“Aaaaaaaagh!”

The hammerhead embedded slightly into the hardwood floor. What happened to the flesh caught in between was anyone’s guess.

Qing looked down at the flailing unorthodox fighter, who thrashed and shrieked as if the whole house were collapsing.

From the shadowed hollows of her eyes, a sinister starlight gleamed.

Mm. Shame, but that’s enough for me.

The Jin clan folks should get their turn too.

Clicking her tongue in mock regret, Qing’s face abruptly shifted into urgent, immersive performance mode.

“No! Warrior! Your foot! Your foot!”

“Aaagh! Aaaagh!”

“Please, warrior! Stay with me! Stay conscious!”

“Aaaaagh! Agh, agh, agh, agh!”

Qing slapped his cheeks—smack smack smack smack!—with harsh, open-palmed strikes.

But whether from shock or trauma, the unorthodox bastard just flailed blindly, swinging his arms and hitting Qing in return.

Of course, Qing’s body was the kind that would throw itself at a blade if she thought she could overpower it. Some untrained goon’s flailing? Worthless.

Letting go of his collar for now, Qing pondered how to snap him out of it.

Slaps weren’t working?

Then the shock just wasn’t big enough.

A greater shock could override fear.

CRACK!

A nuclear knuckle strike dropped on the bastard’s head.

It was death. It was the end of the world. It was violence, pure and undeniable.

THWACK!!!

His pupils rolled back, shuddered, then somehow returned to place.

“Huuhh...!”

When something hurts that much, you can’t even scream.

Now finally a bit lucid, the guy looked up as Qing crouched in front of him, speaking kindly.

“Hey. You’re not getting it, right? You just got ambushed. Your right foot is now beef jerky. You think now’s the time to scream? Looking like that, you think you can beat me? So what should you do?”

“P-Please spare—”

“Have you ever spared someone who begged you for their life? Even once—”

“I have!”

“That answer came way too fast. When? What year, what month, what day? Where, who, and why did you spare them? Answer. One. Two. Three. Four...”

Qing began folding her fingers one by one, like a child playing a counting game.

The bastard didn’t answer.

“Right. So begging won’t work now, huh? Then what do you do? You run. Go on. Run.”

“Huh? Wh-what?”

“I said run. With that gimpy little foot?”

Qing bared her white teeth in a grin.

When you want to cry and someone slaps you?

That’s when you think, This is it. This is the moment to sob my guts out. Your tear ducts open wide, and out comes the primal wail.

The people of the Jin clan wanted to hate.

Their family and kin, once living under one roof, had been slaughtered—while the enemy ran away.

And just when they were consumed by grief, unable to act, the funeral was trampled and the condolence money robbed by thugs.

Your Honor—no, Your Excellency—wouldn’t even blink: “They got beaten to death? Sounds like natural causes to me.” Bang, bang, bang. Justifiable homicide.

As one unorthodox fighter tried to flee through the broken jangji door, he slashed toward a silhouette blocking his path.

A sword slash, the tip splitting into two branches.

A sharp sword energy—sharp enough to slice through that scholarly white hand standing in its path.

But only for a moment.

Suddenly, the unorthodox bastard felt a soft yet overwhelming force lift him off his feet.

Before he even realized, his body flipped, rolled across a broad back, and then—THWACK!

Slammed into the floor, he looked down at his shoulder in searing pain.

One full roll had twisted his shoulder blade so badly that the broken upper arm bone now poked upward, revealing its pristine, pale beauty to its master for the first time.

Hello, Master. I am your right humerus. Pardon my dripping marrow. Most unfortunate to meet you like this.

“Aaaaagh!”

People feel pain twice as sharply when they see the wound with their own eyes—so his scream came only after the horrific sight.

The same scene played out in several places.

Of course, dislocating a shoulder with one and a half turns and forcing the bone outside the skin was a feat only a master like Jin Family Head could pull off, so the other unorthodox bastards didn’t suffer as severely.

Which, unfortunately, made things worse for them.

The Jin warriors, indignant at how not injured they looked, began beating them senseless.

Aaaagh! Agh! Aaaargh! Spare me! Plea—!

In the dead of night, shrieks and begging echoed everywhere.

That was about when Qing returned to the courtyard, dragging an unorthodox fighter by the hair.

Seeing the brutal violence unfolding there, Qing was so shocked she let go of the hair she was holding and leapt forward.

“Hey! Without me? Let’s do it together!”

And so Qing joined the beating.

She kicked them, stomped them, slammed them with her palm, bashed their heads, sent teeth flying with heel kicks, crushed hands, and snapped fingers with joyous abandon.

Since there were more Jin warriors than enemies, they formed two-man teams to pummel them—an even more delightful time was had by all.

To outsiders, the scene would look less like righteous sects and more like some psychotic blood cult massacre.

Then, suddenly, Qing said:

“Huh? Family Head. We’re one short, aren’t we? I’m sure five came in, but we’ve only got four.”

“Hm?”

At that, all the Jin warriors paused their fists mid-swing and turned to look past the wrecked jangji door into the exposed bedroom.

****

Hammer had used his head.

When the others rushed out, Hammer had quietly slipped beneath the bed.

And then came the sounds.

The endless screams, the thud-thud of flesh being tenderized, the matching grunts and moans—all very familiar to a man of the unorthodox path. He could imagine the scene with near-perfect clarity.

Who the hell are these bastards?

They dared to interfere with the Killing Moon Sect’s operation?

They had the numbers now, so he'd endure for the moment—but this humiliation would be repaid in full.

Then, a particular voice pricked his ears.

Maybe because it was a woman’s voice—or maybe because this woman’s voice was just so lovely, wrapping around his eardrums like silk.

Family Head, we’re one short.

Hammer’s heart dropped like a stone.

The Jin clan. It was the Jin clan bastards!

Even if they were a toothless tiger, their main bloodline hadn’t been wiped out—only the branch families.

And Family Head?

If the Jin Family Head herself had come, even the Sect Leader or the Grand Elder wouldn’t stand a chance one-on-one.

So Hammer held his breath.

Go out now and I’ll die.

Better to stay hidden like this.

Maybe they’d think he escaped and leave.

Then, footsteps began to approach.

—Strange. Where’d he run off to?

—Could he have already escaped?

—Hmm. Should we have guarded the back door?

—We need to track him down fast. If we let even one slip, it’ll be a pain in the ass.

—Yes, Family Head!

And then the urgent footsteps receded.

Hammer let out a small sigh of relief—but didn’t dare exhale too loudly.

And now came the most painful inner conflict of his life.

If he moved too soon, he’d get caught. But if he waited too long, they might come back and check again.

Every moment passed like a year.

The night was utterly silent.

It was winter, and even the usual chirp of bugs was absent. So quiet, in fact, that even his own heartbeat thumped like thunder in his ears.

Time passed. Sweat dripped.

Then time stopped. And the sweat fell in heavy drops.

How long had it been?

His nerves, stretched to their limit, distorted time until it felt infinitely long.

After what seemed an eternity, Hammer cautiously stretched out an arm and tried to move his body off the floor.

Shhhhk. The sound of cloth dragging against wood made his heart seize.

He tensed his fingertips and toes, lifting his body ever so carefully, painfully slowly, trying not to let even the sound of his clothes brushing air betray him as he crept outside.

Then a voice spoke.

“Yikes. You’re just now crawling out?”

THWACK!

Hammer flinched, trying to leap up—and slammed his back against the bed frame.

The jolt was so violent the bed actually lifted a bit. Thunk! Creak! The entire thing rattled.

And in that moment, he looked up—and locked eyes with ten pairs of pupils, all staring directly at him.