Within the dilapidated temple, several burly men surrounded a young woman, their broadswords swinging with fierce momentum, yet they could not breach her guard. Every downward slash was invariably deflected by the longsword in the woman's hand; though the force remained undiminished, the target of the blow was never where the attacker initially intended. However, with the men attacking in relays, the woman was too preoccupied defending to find an opening to counterattack, leading to a stalemate on that front. Compared to the lively fracas over there, the other side of the room presented a rather eerie scene…

Ye Wen casually tossed a stone, then swiftly reached down to secure another, his eyes locked intently on the ferocious-looking group before him. This was a habit ingrained from his past brawls: upon seeing an opponent charge, he would first look for a suitable projectile to hurl, then use the ensuing confusion to either rush in and deliver a flurry of blows or simply turn and flee. In any case, he always seized the initial advantage. This time, however, things were different. His opponents seemed utterly unprepared for such a tactic; they froze in place, one of them even crouching down to nudge the man who had been struck down. “Fourth Brother, Fourth Brother!” After checking for a breath, the man exploded in curses: “Damn it, this brat smashed Old Fourth to death with a rock! Brothers, avenge Old Fourth!”

One could say that Old Fourth was truly unlucky. He was an old hand who had navigated the martial world for years, having seen countless martial artists, especially young ones eager to make a name for themselves by picking fights with men like him and his brothers. Many of those naive, inexperienced youngsters would try to challenge them, but those types would either declare a formal one-on-one duel or charge in head-on. Even those skilled with throwing knives or hidden weapons would typically shout something like, “You villain, watch your back!” to signal their adherence to the righteous path. When had they ever encountered someone who would simply throw a projectile without so much as a warning? And a large rock at that. This behavior was less like a chivalrous figure from the Jianghu and more like a common street thug who preys on the weak. He couldn't possibly know that Ye Wen, as an honored transmigrator, possessed extensive street-fighting experience, believing that any method advantageous to him should be utilized. As for shouting "Watch your back" before throwing something? This wasn't a friendly sparring match; it was a fight for survival. He saw no need to consider the enemy's sensibilities. It was precisely this gap in perception that caused Old Fourth to charge too aggressively, failing to guard against Ye Wen's projectile, resulting in a fatal blow directly to the head—an utterly unfortunate end.

“Dead?” Ye Wen had assumed he had merely knocked the man unconscious, not sent him straight to the underworld. Even Ye Wen was startled, but this realization did not slow his movements—seeing the remaining men preparing to charge again, another stone flew from his hand. This time, the men were clearly braced. They didn't drop dead instantly like Old Fourth; instead, they used their hands to shield their heads, then raised the various makeshift weapons they carried and brought them crashing down toward Ye Wen. As for Ye Wen, after throwing the stone, he quickly scooped up a handful of dirt—the crumbling wall provided not only large stones but also dust, which he swept up along with pebbles and stray weeds—then flung this haphazard mixture straight toward their faces. A few smaller clods of dirt traveled slightly faster, blinding the men who hadn't reacted in time. They erupted in curses: “You brat!” “Damn it, my eyes!” “Shameless bastard, have the guts to face me honorably!” “Hah? Four of you ganging up, and you dare speak of honor?” Ye Wen cursed back with a laugh. By now, the longsword he had been holding was drawn. Seeing that the dust had obscured their vision, he didn't wait for them to recover, charging forward with his sword ready.

“Damn it, if I don't kill them today, they’ll scare me to death! It’s not like I haven’t killed before!” he repeatedly told himself. His sword thrust out like a striking snake’s tongue—he possessed some basic knowledge: to kill with a longsword, outside of cutting fatal spots like the throat, one primarily relied on stabbing and thrusting; no one used a longsword like a cleaver. Fueled by this sudden resolve, the thrust was both swift and urgent. He was mentally repeating his internal monologue when the sword abruptly met resistance, a sensation of cutting through something yielding. “I hit him?” His mind flickered with slight confusion, but he quickly refocused; hesitation was not an option now. He tightened his grip, yanked his arm back, and accompanied by the sound of steel dragging across flesh, a spray of crimson fluid erupted, nearly drenching Ye Wen. If he hadn't reacted quickly and leaped back a step, he might have been instantly baptized in gore.

With the first success, his hands did not pause. He didn't even dwell on thoughts like, "I killed someone, I killed someone"; his conscience felt utterly unburdened. “Am I naturally suited for this life?” This question flashed and vanished. Immediately, his sword swept across the neck of a man emerging from the cloud of dust. Before the attacker could register what had happened, he felt a chilling sensation at his neck, followed by a blossoming expanse of red—another massive spurt of blood, which Ye Wen expertly sidestepped again. Now, excluding Old Fourth already on the ground, only one of the remaining assailants was charging Ye Wen, and this one was busy rubbing his eyes—he had suffered the worst effects from the thrown dust. Ye Wen had judged him to be the most incapacitated from the beginning, hence saving him for last, an experience gained from years of fighting. While the other two were swiftly dispatched by Ye Wen, this remaining man had only just managed to regain some sight. The first thing he saw was his brother’s neck erupting blood as he collapsed—clearly dead. This sight terrified him to the core. He couldn't understand how his brothers had all fallen in such a short span! But before he could decide whether to avenge them or flee immediately, the seemingly harmless youth was already charging toward him with his sword drawn. This snapped his scattered thoughts. Years of experience ignited his primal aggression. He roared, “You’re asking to die, brat…” and prepared to swing his spiked club to smash this murderer of his brothers into a pulp. However, the curse died in his throat, replaced by heart-wrenching sobs and whimpers that brought sorrow to the listener. The reason was simple: although Ye Wen held a longsword, his attack targeted the lower body. The burly man, focused solely on the glint of the sword, forgot to guard against other areas, allowing Ye Wen to seize the opportunity and deliver a full-force kick to the groin—a move that instantly disabled him.

Ye Wen had put every ounce of his strength into that kick, convinced that under such a full-power impact, even a steel ball would be flattened, let alone anything else. Taking advantage of the man’s inability to move, stuck in a state of complete paralysis, Ye Wen calmly drew his longsword across the man’s carotid artery, ending his suffering. Four men killed in succession. Excluding the first, which was an accident within an accident, the other three fell directly by his blade. Especially the last one; Ye Wen could have spared him but chose not to, leaving Ye Wen with a slightly unreal sensation. “That simple… I killed four people?” Looking at the four corpses strewn about, and the crimson liquid splattered everywhere, he had to admit he had effortlessly taken down four large men, and he still seemed to have energy to spare.

The thought of having surplus energy jolted him: there were more enemies than just these four. He turned his head and saw his so-called junior sister taking advantage of a gap in the siege. She casually tossed out a handful of yellow material, and while her attackers were momentarily disoriented, she countered with a swift sword strike, finishing off the man who had been harassing her the most. Then she turned and engaged another, less skilled opponent, her attacks ferociously precise, clearly aiming to eliminate him quickly before focusing on the strongest fighter. Looking around, the man who first spoke the lewd comments was already lying on the ground. Ning Ruxue despised his foul language and had resolved to kill him first from the outset, so he was the earliest to fall. Perhaps only the unlucky Old Fourth preceded him; everyone else fell later. Just then, Ning Ruxue severed the opposing man’s finger with her sword, causing his weapon to drop. She quickly closed the distance and ran him through. Unexpectedly, this action triggered a surge of ferocity in the man. He grabbed Ning Ruxue’s sword barehanded and roared, “Big Brother, avenge your brothers!” He had seen the situation around him and knew his brothers were all dead, so his only hope rested on their most skilled fighter, the Big Brother, to exact vengeance. He even used his body to pin her weapon, hoping his Big Brother could kill the fierce woman first so he could deal with the boy later. To prevent her from abandoning the sword and escaping, he also seized her arm.

Seeing this, the last remaining burly man roared in fury and swung both fists at Ning Ruxue’s head. Judging by the force of the blows, if one landed squarely, her head would fare no better than a watermelon. With her arm pinned, Ning Ruxue could only watch the punch hurtle towards her. At that crucial moment, a loud shout rang out beside her: “Watch the sword!” Then, a flash of cold light descended upon the attacker. Although the sword was fast, the man managed to dodge it by sidestepping, forcing him to halt his attack and allowing Ning Ruxue a moment of reprieve. Ning Ruxue let out a sigh of relief, intending to pull her sword free to help her martial brother—she didn't believe Ye Wen could defeat the man, thinking he could only manage to delay the fight momentarily to allow her escape—but unexpectedly, Ye Wen’s swordplay suddenly shifted. With two rapid, slick strikes, the man suddenly stood with his back to Ye Wen, while a length of shining steel protruded from his chest, right over his heart.