Chapter 10: How Fierce Bandits Are Made

Chapter 10 How a Ferocious Bandit Is Made

Instructor Sun walked a few steps toward the edge of the field, and Zhao Changhe followed. Then Instructor Sun asked, “You’ve come to seek instruction in the Blood Fiend Art?”

Zhao Changhe nodded: “Yes, I ask for your guidance, Instructor.”

Instructor Sun seemed about to say something, hesitated, then paused a moment before speaking: “The Blood Fiend Art is unmatched in ferocity, truly formidable, and suits your age… but it has many drawbacks. Later, you must switch to the Blood Divine Art to make up for them. Unfortunately, the Blood Divine Art isn’t easy to obtain; even core disciples must render great service, and they may not receive the full text. If you harbor hopes of learning the Blood Divine Art in the future, you’d best be mentally prepared.”

Zhao Changhe bowed again: “Thank you, Instructor. I understand.”

Instructor Sun nodded: “Also, you can’t just train in the technique without learning combat skills. I’m sure you saw yesterday’s Chaos Ranking—our Sect Leader broke through one more realm than Yue Hongling, yet why did he lose? Most likely because his skills were inferior. The Sect Leader has been busy with sect affairs in recent years, perhaps neglecting his training; one defeat might not be a bad thing.”

Zhao Changhe coughed dryly and said nothing. Was it okay to speak ill of the Sect Leader like that? Still, the example was good—simple and clear.

Instructor Sun continued: “Everyone here trains with the saber. Do you know why everyone uses the saber instead of other weapons?”

Zhao Changhe answered without thinking: “Because the saber is the easiest to pick up, right? As long as you have some strength, wild slashing and hacking can still be effective. A beginner with a saber is definitely more ferocious than one with a sword.”

This was exactly why Zhao Changhe himself had used a broadsword in his dreams—otherwise, with swords everywhere, why pick up a broadsword and refuse to switch? Even now, Zhao Changhe didn’t bother, like others, about how elegant a sword was, or about a flute and sword as the ideal of a wanderer. What he needed was to form combat effectiveness as quickly as possible; elegance couldn’t fill his stomach.

“Right. Sabers and spears are easiest for forming combat power; swords are much harder to master.” Instructor Sun said, “Many gallant men in the martial world, without learning any internal true qi or advanced external techniques, have carved out their own world with just a saber. The saber is the most universal weapon in the jianghu.”

Zhao Changhe thought to himself, I understand—that’s how the extras are, indeed many.

“The Blood Fiend Art has several matching techniques, including fist, sword, and saber forms. Among them, the Blood Fiend Saber Technique is a fierce and unparalleled good saber art. Since you’ve been granted the Blood Fiend Art, you’re implicitly qualified to learn this saber technique. But you haven’t studied the saber yet, so no rush for now… Coincidentally, we’re a new branch, and a large number of newcomers are learning from scratch. Starting tomorrow, come here every day and learn the basics of saber technique with them. When the time is right, I’ll teach you the Blood Fiend Saber.”

Zhao Changhe was overjoyed: “This is great news. I thought I’d need another way to get the saber technique.”

“No need. You’ve submitted your pledge of allegiance; what’s yours is yours. Who among the greenwood folk has the patience for haggling and quibbling? That’s really petty.”

Instructor Sun’s words clearly carried a hint of dissatisfaction with Branch Leader Fang. Zhao Changhe dared not speak, but inwardly he was delighted.

From this, it seemed Instructor Sun was no ordinary teacher. If corresponding to the main sect’s headquarters, this position might be that of a Transmission Elder or a Protector? That would be a high-ranking right-hand man to the Sect Leader. So Instructor Sun likely held one of the top positions in the branch, enough to challenge the Branch Leader.

“Alright, enough pleasantries.” Instructor Sun had the straightforward temperament of a bandit lair, wasting no words, and began teaching directly: “The Blood Fiend Art has no pathways for true qi circulation, but it has a method for activating blood energy. The basic method must be practiced with basic movements; you can refer to the manual for that… But the knack for exerting force, which you can’t grasp from reading this booklet, must be done like this, like this…”

Zhao Changhe soon immersed himself. The Instructor’s words lingered in his ears, and he could already see the blood energy flowing within his body, like a stream starting from a quiet trickle, gradually surging and boiling.

Before long, he felt a sense of heat, like the feeling of losing one’s mind watching the World Cup—red-eyed, dazed, a surge of hot blood that could smash the TV to pieces.

And the power that could erupt in such a state was naturally far greater than usual. The Blood Fiend Art seemed to allow one to actively enter this headstrong state?

Even more miraculous was that last night, when he tried learning those movements on his own, his legs went weak and sore after not squatting long, and he couldn’t hold on. But now, some unknown heat flow seemed to ease that soreness, strengthening his muscles and bones, allowing him to persist longer and longer.

This was only the beginning of learning. What would happen if he trained to a deeper level?

Was this demonic art?

At some point, the Instructor’s voice faded away, and the surroundings grew a bit noisy, like the sound in a university cafeteria after class.

Zhao Changhe slowly opened his eyes.

And it really was a cafeteria…

A cook pushed a cart over, with a wooden bucket of millet rice mixed with wild vegetables, and even a few bits of meat. The fragrant aroma wafted from afar. The disciples who had been practicing martial arts rushed over in a swarm with their bowls and chopsticks, and the cook served them one by one.

Zhao Changhe’s stomach was growling too. The hunger from practicing the Blood Fiend Art all morning felt like he hadn’t eaten for an entire day. He dashed like the wind to his room to get his bowl.

When he returned, Luo Qi was nowhere to be seen. Zhao Changhe didn’t mind; he grabbed his bowl and rushed out to get food.

Despite the bandit lair’s core being a sect, there were still rules. The chaotic scene of people jostling that one might imagine didn’t exist; everyone lined up orderly. Zhao Changhe, accustomed to this, stood at the back, craning his neck to watch. He noticed that the cook’s serving had its nuances: some bowls had not a trace of meat, while others, like Zhang Quan’s, had a small piece of braised pork.

Others looked at the meat in their bowls with envy but didn’t vent their anger at the cook. This area was likely under Instructor Sun’s authority for rewards and punishments; whoever he said could eat meat, could eat meat.

Finally, it was Zhao Changhe’s turn. The cook glanced at him and indeed gave him a piece of braised pork, even bigger than Zhang Quan’s. Zhao Changhe was overjoyed; Instructor Sun was truly good to him. Meat was crucial for him now!

Holding his bowl, he cheerfully squeezed out of the crowd, only to see Zhang Quan leading a few people, walking over with a smirk: “Oh, a whole piece of meat…”

Zhao Changhe’s expression darkened, and he frowned: “Surely this isn’t worth causing trouble over? Such brainless villains are too low-class.”

“Trouble? We have no damned goodwill with you!” Zhang Quan didn’t understand his last remark, sneering, “A turncoat, gaining the sect’s favor by stabbing your own young master, getting the Blood Fiend Art—that’s one thing. Now you’re currying favor with Instructor Sun, and our meat rations are reduced. Goodwill?”

Zhao Changhe was speechless: “So it’s all about a piece of meat.”

Zhang Quan’s eyes flashed with malice. Of course, it was about a piece of meat. Was that strange? From small things like meat to big things like techniques, it all boiled down to “resources.” Even without a reason, they’d pick a fight to seize them, especially against a newcomer like you. They were demonic sect bandits; when had they ever practiced courtesy?

He didn’t bother wasting words with Zhao Changhe and waved his hand: “Take it!”

The few bandits friendly with him surged forward. Zhao Changhe, holding his bowl, had no way to fight. He tried to protect the bowl, dodging and parrying for a while, taking several hits on his back, and the wild vegetables covering the bowl spilled.

A crowd gathered around, cheering and shouting, as if this scene was perfectly normal.

Amidst the noise, whispers could be heard: “This Zhao Changhe, hogging all the glory—I’m annoyed too. Zhang Quan’s show of force is well done.”

“Instructor Sun seems to favor him, pulling him aside for a private chat… Isn’t Zhang Quan afraid of being scolded?”

“What’s there to fear? Anyone with eyes can see that Branch Leader Fang dislikes him. How much can Instructor Sun protect him?”

In the midst of the whispers, no one noticed that Zhao Changhe’s eyes were growing redder, like blood.

The feeling of smashing a TV while watching a match surged within him. Zhao Changhe suddenly stopped dodging, flung his bowl hard to the ground, and roared: “If I don’t get to eat, neither do you!”

“Bang!” The bowl shattered, scattering rice and meat across the floor, mixed with broken porcelain, making it impossible for anyone to eat.

Zhang Quan and his gang were all stunned: “Damn, this kid is ruthless.”

“Ruthless?” Zhao Changhe whipped his head around, his eyes filled with brutality and madness: “You think that’s it?”

People were still lamenting the wasted food on the ground when, before they could react, Zhao Changhe lunged forward like an arrow, grabbing Zhang Quan by the collar.

The movement was incredibly swift. Zhao Changhe himself didn’t know when he had gained such speed. His legs surged with hot blood energy, and his whole body shot out like a bolt from a crossbow. When he seized Zhang Quan, not only was Zhang Quan caught off guard, but Zhao Changhe himself was startled.

He didn’t have time to savor the feeling. He hooked his foot and slammed Zhang Quan cleanly to the ground. Then, grabbing Zhang Quan by the hair, he viciously pressed his face into the scattered food: “Eat? I’ll make sure you eat your fill!”

With a thud and Zhang Quan’s piercing scream, the surrounding crowd all flinched.

This kid was truly ruthless! The ground wasn’t just food; it had shards of the bowl! With that press, Zhang Quan’s face was ruined—if it hit his eye…

Zhang Quan’s buddies finally snapped out of it and charged madly. Some kicked Zhao Changhe fiercely, others tried to pull him away, but Zhao Changhe didn’t dodge or avoid, enduring the blows as he continued to smash Zhang Quan’s head into the food again and again, impossible to pry apart.

After four or five smashes, those pulling him cautiously withdrew, and the kickers stopped, all slowly backing away.

Zhang Quan on the ground had completely fallen silent.

Zhao Changhe stood up, panting heavily, his face expressionless as he turned around: “What’s the matter? He wanted to eat my food, and now he’s stuffed himself—blame me? Do you want some too?”

Zhang Quan’s buddies, trembling, avoided his fierce gaze. Everyone instinctively made way, watching Zhao Changhe stride away.