Chapter Ten: The First Kill

"Enough! Stop! I said stop!" Brother Hei finally reacted after watching for so long, unable to believe the ferocity of the assault and the utter lack of restraint. He could not bear it any longer and shouted, his voice echoing with rage. Even if Liu Nengtian was indeed a fool, it was still infuriating to witness such violence; after all, one ought to respect the dog's owner when beating it.

At that moment, the expressionless man beside them sprang into action. His blade flashed white as he swung it mercilessly at Liang Jing’s neck—a strike that, even if not deep, would surely be fatal, especially given the force behind it.

Liang Jing had been keeping an eye on their movements ever since he made his move against Liu Nengtian. The moment the expressionless man shifted his footing, Liang Jing noticed, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Liu Nengtian had claimed these two were formidable fighters, had even maimed and killed before. Liang Jing was eager to test himself against them, curious to see what made them so dangerous. Though he was far stronger than they, the fight felt almost unfair.

"Be careful, that one is called Tree—he’s notorious for his ruthless, crippling attacks," Yang Yuyuan warned, anxiety etched in his voice. He had paid special attention to Tree because a friend had been maimed by him, and Yang knew well the man’s brutality.

A cold light flickered in Liang Jing's eyes. Such a person should not be allowed to live. Even in times of law and order, Tree was vicious; in this new world, leaving him alive would be disastrous. Liang Jing resolved to end him for the greater good.

His hands moved swiftly, yet he deliberately withheld some strength, wanting to see what these so-called formidable fighters were truly capable of, lest his display become too extraordinary.

To Liang Jing, Tree’s movements were painfully slow—he could clearly see every action and respond with ease. The man fought with reckless abandon, pouring all his strength into the attack, with no thought of defense or retreat. There was no finesse, no technique—only raw aggression.

With a low grunt, Liang Jing dodged Tree’s desperate slash, shifting left and back, his legs bent for balance. He stepped forward, both hands gripping his knife, and swept upward toward Tree’s chest and abdomen.

Tree was shocked that Liang Jing faced his attack without fear, moved swiftly, and managed to evade. His expression showed surprise; previously, his opponents would panic and slow, allowing him to strike them down. This was a death-defying style—a reckless attack. If your courage failed, you’d make a mistake, and every misstep would lead to another.

Seeing Liang Jing's counterattack, Tree knew if he were struck, he’d be gutted. He had no time to think, only gritted his teeth, a fierce gleam in his eyes. Let’s see if you dare take me on.

He neither retreated nor dodged. Facing Liang Jing’s upward slash, Tree twisted his blade into a white arc, aiming straight at Liang Jing’s body—mutual destruction, let’s see who’s more ruthless! If you don’t want to die, you’d better change your move and defend.

Liang Jing, confronted by Tree’s life-for-life style, did not panic. An unusual glint shone in his eyes. Though Tree fought with brute force and no technique, there was something to be learned. This approach, with Liang Jing’s system backing him, could be effective—no matter how skilled the opponent, one decisive strike would force them to defend or die.

If he could solve certain issues, perhaps this would be his ideal fighting style, except his weapon should be heavier.

But Tree was facing Liang Jing. To Liang Jing, Tree's movements were slow, and his mind conjured countless ways to dodge and counterattack.

Yet Liang Jing’s temperament flared—he could not stand provocation. He slowed his short knife, directly meeting Tree’s blade.

Defeat your opponent at their strongest—break their body and their confidence!

A sharp crack echoed, followed by the clang of metal.

"Impossible..." Tree stared at the half-blade remaining in his hand, disbelief written across his face. His knife had been custom-made from special steel at a mold factory, half a centimeter thick, four fingers wide, over a meter long. And now, it was broken in half by Liang Jing’s much shorter blade—was this some legendary weapon?

Liang Jing wasted no more time. Having shattered Tree’s blade, he struck while Tree was still stunned, aiming to take his head with a swift, blood-letting blow.

"Careful..." Brother Hei shouted, panic twisting his features, but it was too late—Liang Jing’s blade moved too quickly.

Seeing his brother’s blade snapped and Liang Jing still relentless, Brother Hei’s anger erupted; these were brothers-in-arms, drinking together, reveling together, fighting together—an unbreakable bond. He rushed forward with a slash, hoping to save Tree, but the distance was too far.

A hiss, then a thud—

Tree’s head rolled onto the floor, and a white spiritual light leapt from the headless corpse, merging into Liang Jing’s body. The light was only slightly smaller than the one from the Level 3 mutant spider. It seemed that killing any creature, even humans, granted this white light to strengthen oneself.

Liang Jing despised Tree’s viciousness; if not for his own increased strength, he would have died in that opening ambush.

"Did he really kill him...?" Brother Hei could hardly believe Liang Jing dared to kill, trembling not with fear but with uncontrollable rage.

He had never imagined someone would kill over Liu Nengtian’s insults. He was accustomed to venting frustration with curses, beatings, and humiliation; such behavior was normal. Though the world had changed, the idea of murder hadn’t yet taken root in their minds. Their boasts of having killed before were mere bravado, a reputation needed for street life.

After all, what thug in a small town would kill? It’s not a big place—factories and migrant workers abound, but the administrative level is simple, relationships not so tangled. Murder is a big deal, not easily excused.

"You’ll die for this! Give me back my brother’s life!" Brother Hei’s face flushed deep red, contorted with rage. He lost all reason, grabbing his knife and lunging at Liang Jing with reckless abandon.

Seeing the crazed attack, Liang Jing felt nothing. To him, an irrational opponent was no threat. He remained calm, even after his first kill.

But he had no interest in playing anymore. With his attributes greatly enhanced, his senses were razor-sharp; such opponents bored him. He found an opening and, with a swift reverse stroke, slit his attacker’s throat.

A soft sound as the blade struck.

Brother Hei clamped his hands desperately over his spraying neck, but it was futile. As a butcher, he was intimately familiar with fatal throat wounds—this was a killing blow.

Have you ever seen a butcher take ages to kill a pig? With a pointed knife, one stroke across the fat neck and it was done.

Cough... you... you’ll die, really... Our boss will avenge us!" Brother Hei struggled to raise his right hand, perhaps sensing his end, his trembling finger pointed at Liang Jing. Though his left hand pressed the wound, blood poured out between his fingers, and he coughed blood ceaselessly.

Blood poured from both mouth and neck, his body stiffening, twitching, then falling still—dead.

One or two, it made no difference. If you didn’t kill them, they’d kill you. There was no choice.

Liang Jing felt little about it. He had seen countless lives fade under his hand, and was numb.

This was Liang Jing’s first time killing a person, yet his face remained calm, almost unnaturally so—no vomiting, none of the melodramatic reactions typical of protagonists in online novels.

If there was any flicker of unrest, it was a hollow feeling, watching a living soul vanish by his own hand—akin to the emptiness when a beloved pet dies. Yet, since the cause was his own action, and after so many years, to remain this calm was a satisfaction. He believed such an expression should be called solemn tranquility, though few would agree, not even the author.

Liang Jing had long been numb. This feeling would soon dissipate completely. He was a butcher.

For years, his victims had been pigs. Now, it was people—those who deserved to die. The feeling was little different.

With Brother Hei’s death, the supermarket became eerily silent. Everyone ceased their movements, some wondering if Liang Jing would kill them all to cover his tracks. Even Liu Nengtian, who had been howling on the ground, stopped, his face tense with fear.

"Yuyuan, Acne Boy—pack up, we’re leaving. The smell of blood will soon attract mutant creatures," Liang Jing snapped back to reality, calling to Yang Yuyuan, who stood slack-jawed in shock.

"Liang Jing, you... you killed someone. Even if they weren't good people and the government never punished them, was it really necessary to kill over a mere conflict? Isn’t this too cruel? And I heard they have connections..."

"Enough. This place isn’t safe, we need to move. Yuyuan, if you don’t change your nature, you’ll suffer sooner or later. Do you not realize we’re in a society where people eat each other? Weakness and retreat only make you a bigger target—eventually, something will happen." Liang Jing felt for Yang Yuyuan, who was cheerful, generous, helpful, and soft-hearted—almost saintly.

He ignored what others thought, packed up, and prepared to return to the internet café, to discuss their next steps. Clear Water Bay was not a place to stay long; the first problem was food. The largest storage was in the supermarket, but even that was limited.

"Are you okay now? Can you really carry these bags?" Liang Jing asked Acne Boy, uncertain about his injury—he only knew the left arm had been slashed.

Acne Boy was excited, watching Liang Jing kill two gangsters with ease; his blood boiled with admiration. He wondered why he himself lacked such power, fantasizing endlessly.

His wound had been treated with gauze and antiseptic in the supermarket; as long as he didn’t strain his left arm, reopening the cut, he would be fine.

As the three stepped out, they saw Liang Jing’s two former coworkers standing nearby, frozen in place, afraid to provoke him and risk being killed. One held a small fishing net, the other was filthy, bloodstained, barely standing without Guo Qingyu’s support.

Only now did the two realize Liang Jing, Yang Yuyuan, and Acne Boy were a group. They trembled, thinking themselves foolish but grateful to avoid trouble.

As the three prepared to leave, the two coworkers showed relief, though a venomous gleam flashed in Liu Nengtian’s eyes—caught by Liang Jing, whose senses were now keen as daylight.