Chapter 11: Born Bandit

Chapter 11: Born a Bandit

Zhao Changhe slipped away from the crowd, turning into a corner, and soon leaned against the wall, gasping for breath as if drained.

This Blood Fiend Art was truly ferocious—not just in that burst of speed, but later when several people tried to pull him away, they couldn’t budge him. The strength was absurd. And he’d only been practicing for one night and one morning...

But there were indeed major issues. In such a short time, he felt on the verge of collapse, whether from the aftermath of depleted blood and energy or from his own guilty conscience at this moment.

He’d put on a show, vented his anger, but Zhang Quan might be dead... A newcomer, already fighting among his own—what punishment awaited him?

Yet in that moment, blood surged hotly, and who the hell cared about that... Perhaps this was another side effect of the Blood Fiend Art? Or had he always harbored such a streak?

“Regret it?” A voice came from the corner—it was Instructor Sun.

Zhao Changhe turned his head to see Sun leaning against the wall not far away, watching him with a half-smile.

Zhao Changhe held some respect for Instructor Sun, so he lowered his head and said, “No regrets. Whatever punishment comes, I’ll accept it. If I hadn’t shown that spirit, I’d just be cowering and giving up my meals to others? I can’t live that kind of spineless life.”

“Ha...” Sun interrupted, “The killer, Zhao Changhe! I knew you had that fire in you, no need to say it. What I’m asking is, do you regret practicing the Blood Fiend Art? That feeling of your reason being affected.”

“Uh...” So it was indeed the art’s influence, not that he himself was so savage. Zhao Changhe felt oddly relieved and replied, “For now, no regrets either. It’s a pretty badass technique; I can’t worry about the rest. But Instructor, by that tone, Zhang Quan...”

“Dead.” Sun said dismissively, “The meat I arranged, and he dared to snatch it? He provoked first, got killed second—stupid and weak. Dead is dead.”

Zhao Changhe knew Sun was probably covering for him, so he lowered his gaze meekly. “Thank you, Instructor...”

“There you go again with that cultured demeanor.” Sun cursed, “Are you really here to take the imperial exams?”

Zhao Changhe: “?”

Thanking you is wrong?

“Earlier, you tried to reason with Zhang Quan—did it do any good? And now? Who doesn’t fear you a little! That’s how you earn respect!” Sun sneered. “I was there when you killed Luo Zhenwu. I saw your boldness and grit—clearly born a bandit. That’s why I gave you extra pointers, so you wouldn’t disgrace our Sacred Sect when walking the jianghu. Otherwise, do you think I’d favor you because your ass is tender?”

Born a bandit... Zhao Changhe was speechless.

Indeed, there was no love or hate without reason; every matter had two sides. Killing Luo Zhenwu—Captain Fang was displeased, but Instructor Sun admired it.

The civilized ways of a modern man clashed with this world, especially this den of bandits. He was already a tough guy, and after “killing in dreams” many times, he’d grown accustomed to the act. If a normal classmate had come here, they wouldn’t know how to survive.

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Changhe asked, “This is still our own camp. Shouldn’t there be some measure of restraint... If everyone acted like I did today...”

Sun stared at him coldly for a long while. “You’re already in the jianghu.”

With that, he turned and left. “Come find me in an hour to learn the blade. From now on, train in the mornings, practice the blade in the afternoons, and do as you please at night.”

Zhao Changhe watched his retreating back, lips pressed tight, silent.

This wasn’t the jianghu I wanted.

...

An hour later, Zhao Changhe appeared punctually at the training ground.

Instructor Sun looked at him with amusement. The kid had seemed weak and drained earlier, hadn’t eaten, looking like a frostbitten eggplant—but now he was full of energy.

Sun had heard reports; he knew what Zhao Changhe had done in that hour.

That bastard had gone and beaten up all of Zhang Quan’s buddies, stolen their food, wolfed down three big bowls—more than his own original portion—and then taken a smug little nap.

The polite young man who’d once talked about internal harmony was rapidly turning into a fierce bandit.

That was life in the jianghu. Throw a man into an ink vat, and he’ll end up pitch-black.

Even Instructor Sun felt a twinge of melancholy. “Come over. First, learn the basic blade techniques with everyone else.”

Zhao Changhe habitually lined up, obediently walking to the back to listen.

But when the others saw him approach, they all flinched and instinctively parted a path, as if escorting him to the front. Zhao Changhe snorted, then strode forward without ceremony, standing directly opposite Instructor Sun. Only then did the others obediently rearrange themselves.

A hint of a smile flickered in Sun’s eyes, but he made no comment, simply teaching: “Among all weapons, the blade has the fewest basic moves—just chop, slash, and sweep. All variations stem from these. Even the most advanced blade techniques can’t escape this rule. And your fundamentals determine your future ceiling—how fast, how accurate, how steady—all depend on how solid your basics are. No top-tier technique can teach you that.”

“Take the spinning slash from this morning. Any blade technique for dealing with an enemy behind you is just a variation on that basic slash—emphasizing force, changing angles, setting up different follow-ups. That’s where schools differ. But how steady and accurate your slash is still comes down to today’s fundamentals. On the other hand, once you’ve mastered the basics, no matter what blade technique you learn later, you’ll quickly grasp its essence and make it your own.”

“Many say our demon arts offer shortcuts... But shortcuts aren’t here. There’s no shortcut to fundamentals!”

Sun’s gaze swept the field. Most eyes held disappointment. Who joined the demon arts if not for quick gains? But here he was, saying they had to drill basics every day—what difference was there from other sects?

Only a few pairs of eyes gleamed, taking his words to heart.

Among them was Zhao Changhe.

Sun smiled. “Now I’ll teach the straight chop and horizontal slash again. Don’t think any kid with a blade can do them... Just like the spinning slash, there’s a knack to it. Watch closely!”

Zhao Changhe stared unblinkingly at Sun’s deliberately slowed movements, his hands unconsciously mimicking. He felt he’d never been so focused in his life, not even studying for exams... If he’d been this diligent back then, he might have gotten into a top university.

Born a bandit?

Maybe.

The scar on his face told him that in this world, this mattered more than any university.

The afternoon passed quickly. Dusk fell, and Zhao Changhe collapsed onto a stone by the field to rest, massaging his aching arms. The Blood Fiend Art still circulated, mysteriously easing the soreness.

Instructor Sun strolled over to him. “You’ve got good instincts. In one afternoon, you’re already looking decent... Go rest. You’ve got a piece of meat for dinner—the rule here is, the best trainees get a piece of meat. Let’s see how many days you can keep it.”

Zhao Changhe was a bit puzzled. “Can we just keep training and eating meat here? Don’t we have to work?”

Sun gave him a knowing smirk. “Teaching you martial arts, feeding you meat—of course it’s to put you to use. You think we’re keeping you as pets?”

Zhao Changhe ventured, “Then...”

Before he could finish, Sun cut him off. “So train like hell while you can. If you die on a mission, I’ll just have your corpse dragged out to feed the dogs.”

Zhao Changhe shut his mouth.

Sun sauntered away. “You’ve got merit, so you’re still getting some perks. That brother of yours who came with you has already been sent on a mission. Who knows, maybe your room will be all yours from now on—more space, not bad.”

Zhao Changhe’s heart tightened.

So that’s why he hadn’t seen Luo Qi at noon—he’d been sent out.

Joining the demon sect was fundamentally different from being a servant in the Luo family. It meant risking your life... He wondered if Luo Qi was back yet.

From another angle, Zhao Changhe found the path he was on bitterly ironic.

Why had he killed Luo Zhenwu? Partly self-defense, but more importantly, to avenge the slaughtered villagers of Zhao Hamlet.

Yet now, the group he belonged to did the same things. Someday, he might have to do it himself.

If he’d once thought the Luo family’s cruelty was no different from the demon sect, now he saw a distinction... The biggest difference was that the Luo family didn’t rely on such deeds for a living, while for the demon sect, it was a core business.

But did he have a choice? Circumstances had pushed him here. Could he still turn back now?

Zhao Changhe looked down at the bowl in his hands, his eyes dark and rippling.

Born a bandit...

“I hope someday you can still keep today’s innocence. When we meet again in the jianghu, I’ll still hear you call me ‘sister.’”

Zhao Changhe gazed blankly at the sky. The words that had appeared last night were long gone, as if they had never existed.