Chapter Eleven: Root and Branch? Vengeance!

Liang Jing set down his bag and walked toward Liu Nengtian and the other man. Their faces instantly turned pale, and they trembled uncontrollably.

"Jing, I... I have no quarrel with you. I’ve never done anything to you, never provoked you. Please, spare me," Guo Qingyu pleaded desperately, unable to endure the pressure even before Liang Jing came close. The fishing net in his hand slipped to the ground, and he no longer bothered to support Liu Nengtian. His legs shook so badly it seemed he might collapse under his own weight. Fortunately, he managed to keep himself together—if only just. In his heart, he cursed Liu Nengtian bitterly; if it weren’t for his loose tongue, they wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Liang Jing eyed the pitiful sight before him, knowing the man was a coward at heart. Usually, he acted tough only when hiding behind Liu Nengtian, just to conceal his own nature. Yet, since he'd just spoken up for Liang Jing, he couldn’t bring himself to be ruthless. Shaking his head, he kept walking—straight toward Liu Nengtian.

"You… you… Liang Jing, I… I lost control just now, I was out of my mind. Please, let me go, just let me off like a fart, please... let me go. I can be your lackey, I’ll do anything, I beg you, spare me…" Now, facing Liang Jing directly, Liu Nengtian realized a terror he’d never known. He dropped to his knees, sobbing.

If Liang Jing hadn’t caught that flash of malice in his eyes a moment earlier, perhaps this wretch would have escaped with his life today. Truth be told, the man was rather bold—when most would flee, he still harbored thoughts of revenge. But all these troubles, ultimately, had been caused by him. Who knew how much power lurked behind the two thugs they’d killed? Liang Jing hated him to the core.

Besides, Liang Jing knew he didn’t possess the kind of hero’s heart needed to keep such a scheming menace alive. He couldn’t spend his days dealing with constant plots and intrigues—he wasn’t some protagonist who could make enemies everywhere and still live happily ever after, untouched by pressure.

A sharp sound sliced the air.

He killed Liu Nengtian. Liang Jing was careful—even severed his head, a habit from all the web novels he’d read. He was afraid, afraid the man might not truly be dead, that he’d come back to haunt him.

A ball of white spiritual light rushed into Liang Jing’s body. Beside Liu Nengtian’s corpse was a small red vial—filled with crimson liquid. Liang Jing’s eyes lit up, and he pocketed it.

Small Life Potion: Restores a small amount of vitality over 15 seconds.

A marvelous item—at this stage, it was as good as another life.

He glanced at the fishing net on the ground, which Guo Qingyu had dropped earlier. It was about four by six meters, with metal weights on all four corners—a handy tool, which he took without hesitation. Guo Qingyu certainly wouldn’t object.

The three of them left the supermarket and headed back to the small internet café. Along the way, Liang Jing acted as their protector. One was injured, carrying a sack of food; the other, though an awakened one, could barely defend himself when both shoulders were burdened with supplies. Liang Jing, on the other hand, was strong enough to shoulder a hiking backpack, carry a sack of food in his left hand, and wield a short knife in his right, ready to drop the sack at a moment’s notice and fight fiercely if needed.

The road was strangely quiet, with no monster attacks. The trio walked in uneasy silence.

It wasn’t that Yang Yuyuan and the pimple-faced youth didn’t want to talk. They simply found that, now, whenever they looked into Liang Jing’s calm eyes, a chill crept up their spines, cold and inexplicable. Whether it was the brutality of seeing him kill or some dormant, legendary aura of bloodlust, they couldn’t say.

In truth, Liang Jing was far from calm. It was his first time killing—in the supermarket, he’d killed three in quick succession. It was as though all the killing intent he’d accumulated from his years as a butcher had finally awakened, surging through him.

This was the murderous aura born of countless deaths, which over time had condensed into something darker—a baleful energy that, with each life taken, transformed into something that could chill the heart of any who felt it.

It was a negative skill, so to speak—able to subdue an enemy without ever drawing a blade.

Yet the first victim of this aura was Liang Jing himself. His mind filled with visions of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, skeletons scattered everywhere. Slowly, a red gleam began to flicker deep within his eyes, as if he might lose control and fall into endless slaughter.

This was why Yang Yuyuan and the other felt such terror around him. Fortunately, Liang Jing soon regained his composure. His will was far stronger than most, and his resistance, too.

When the trio returned to the internet café and opened the door, the three people inside let out cries of relief, all secretly breathing easier. Though Liang Jing’s group hadn’t been gone long, the remaining man and two women had felt no sense of safety surrounded by corpses, huddling in a corner, tense and fearful. Only now, seeing them return, did they feel truly secure.

"So? Are these bags full of food? That’s fantastic!" The speaker was the only man among the three, named Guan Shengdong, who used to work at an electronics factory.

"Yes. Other than a few cans of insecticide, it’s all food," Liang Jing replied, only now taking in the state of the café. His brows knitted in displeasure. Before leaving, he’d told them to clean up, but nothing had changed.

"I think we should find another place," he said. "There’s a building next door that looks good, with sturdy security bars on the windows. I checked it out when I arrived—no monsters inside." Of course, he wouldn’t mention that he’d gone in to kill monsters and level up.

Everyone glanced around the internet café—burnt smells, black smoke, bloodstains, rags, and most of all, piles of human and mutated creature remains: dried corpses and bones of humans, mutant mosquitoes, spiders. And being right on the street, it drew danger like a beacon.

They’d all passed by the building Liang Jing mentioned. The windows really did have thick, nearly two-centimeter-wide black steel bars. No one knew if there were survivors inside, but since all agreed, they packed up and left.

When they arrived, they saw a family of three had already died. The chaos in the living room spoke of a desperate struggle. The man, tall and sturdy, had clearly fought to protect his wife and child, but the attack had been too sudden—he couldn’t mount an effective defense. After a fierce struggle, they died in pain and suffocation.

In the heat of earlier battle, Liang Jing hadn’t noticed this carnage. Now, seeing the aftermath, his heart tightened. Clenching his right fist, he silently vowed to become stronger, to protect what needed protecting. Only with great power could he render all ambushes and schemes meaningless.

Indeed, Liang Jing seemed untroubled by his recent killings in the supermarket, but he’d already been thinking about whether that so-called Brother Bin would come back seeking revenge, and how to handle it.

He was also filled with urgency, especially after seeing the threat posed by Yang Yuyuan. If he were hit by that fireball spell, he’d be in grave danger. He was sure that Yang Yuyuan wasn’t the first awakened, nor would he be the strongest. If he encountered such enemies again, it would be a real challenge. Awakened ones were his imagined rivals, his benchmarks—everyone has a competitive streak.

As for how many awakened there might be, nobody could say. There weren’t enough data points, but even now, among so few survivors, one awakened had already appeared.

Liang Jing didn’t help with the cleanup. He instructed the others to dispose of the bodies and spray insecticide everywhere to prevent outbreaks of mutated bugs, then reinforce the windows and doors. With Yang Yuyuan around, there shouldn’t be any problems—Liang Jing’s presence wouldn’t make much difference. It was already close to four in the afternoon, and with a sense of urgency pressing on him, he went out to hunt monsters, hoping to gain more strength and a greater sense of security.

He used the excuse of returning to his rented room to fetch something. The others, cowed by his recent killing aura, said nothing.

Night was the predators’ domain. At night, the mosquitoes were many times more numerous than by day.

But now, even hunting lesser mutated monsters scarcely helped Liang Jing’s progress. As he grew stronger, their effect diminished—the body could absorb no more. His equipment and skills lagged behind, and hunting higher-level monsters was too dangerous, risking grave injury. It seemed his rate of improvement would soon slow.

…

Qingshui Bay, inside a residential building.

"What now, Brother Bin?" Jing Hui, his face pale and swollen, glanced from the terrified, babbling Guo Qingyu to the grim, cold-faced Hong Bin.

"Kill! We have to kill! We go now!" Hong Bin ground his teeth. His expression was terrifying, the man himself like a powder keg on the verge of exploding.

It was a while before they’d coaxed the story out of the shocked Guo Qingyu. Silence fell over the room.

They didn’t know why the enemy had killed three but spared Guo Qingyu, nor how Guo Qingyu had made it back alive through streets crawling with monsters. None of that mattered. The question was what to do next.

For Hong Bin, revenge could not wait. His reputation and authority had always depended on being tougher and meaner than anyone else. Now, with his men dead, if he didn’t take revenge, his name would be ruined. Recruiting followers would become impossible, and besides, he simply couldn’t swallow this insult.

More importantly, he’d just been planning on gathering more strength and expanding his reach—and now, before he’d even begun, his men were dead. Only Jing Hui remained, and he was ailing, his face still badly swollen.

The rest had been killed by monsters, three by Liang Jing, and another gravely injured—no longer worth considering. The last was the frightened Guo Qingyu.

His grand ambitions were in ruins. Even if he had a gun, it wasn’t war—he only had a few bullets left.

It’s easy to make a thousand from a thousand, but making a thousand from a single coin is another matter entirely.

All of this was Liang Jing’s fault. If not for him, Hong Bin would have plenty of food and could have gathered even more men through Heizi and Dashu, building his grand enterprise.

"Jing Hui, Liu Nengtian is dead, Heizi and Dashu are dead, and Liu Nengtian used to run with you. You can’t just let this go, can you?"

"I’m going after Liang Jing for revenge. Are you in or not?" Hong Bin fixed Jing Hui with a hard stare.

"Of course I’m in! Who’d have guessed Liang Jing would be so heartless? I used to work with him, roomed with him, but if you need anything, just say the word." Jing Hui, feeling Hong Bin’s gaze, was frightened—he’d rather see that powder keg explode elsewhere than here. Better someone else get hurt than him. He had no deep feelings for Liang Jing, and if he claimed otherwise regarding Liu Nengtian’s death, he’d be lying. More importantly, Liang Jing was all but dead in Jing Hui’s eyes, because he was up against Hong Bin—and Hong Bin had a gun. That could only mean one outcome.

In China, private firearms are strictly forbidden. Guns are seen as instruments of life and death, a lesson written in blood and humiliation since the late Qing dynasty—a shame remembered still. Back then, countless martial artists fell to bullets—no matter how skilled, they couldn’t withstand gunfire.

With this thought, Jing Hui’s mind was made up. Liang Jing, don’t blame me—you brought this on yourself.