Encountered an assassination attempt

Encountering an Assassination

Wu Hong, hiding behind the Buddha statue, was so enraged by the actions of the group of beggars that he could no longer contain himself. Smashing the statue, he burst out from behind it.

The adult beggars, startled by the sudden appearance of a young man from behind the statue, sobered up instantly, their astonishment evident.

“Who goes there?” the beggar leader shouted. When he recognized Wu Hong, he felt he had seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t recall exactly where.

“You beasts! There’s nothing shameful in begging to survive, but I never imagined you’d stoop to such depravity!” Wu Hong didn’t waste words. He charged straight at them.

With a crack, Wu Hong hurled a slaughtering hammer at one of the beggars. The hammer whistled through the air; the beggar, eyes wide with terror, tried to dodge, but it was too late. A sickening crack echoed through the ruined temple as his leg broke, making everyone shudder.

The beggar immediately lost the ability to stand.

Wu Hong drew his dagger. Like a wraith, he swept past the crippled beggar. A flash of cold light; the beggar’s face twisted in agony and disbelief as he clutched his neck. Blood spurted in a mist from his throat.

The beggar leader saw Wu Hong’s swiftness and bellowed, “All together! Or we’re all dead!”

The disoriented beggars, now fully alert, drew machetes from their waists—no longer resembling beggars in the slightest—and charged at Wu Hong.

Wu Hong’s heart stirred. These beggars were far more formidable than ordinary people. Could they really be from the Beggar’s Sect?

Screams of agony echoed through the temple. Though Wu Hong had never truly studied martial arts, dealing with a few beggars who only knew a smattering of fighting was as easy as slaughtering cattle.

He had no techniques or forms—only pure speed.

With a half-meter-long slaughtering knife, he brandished an impenetrable curtain of cold steel. One by one, the beggars, like cattle in the slaughterhouse, had their tendons severed. In moments, blood stained the temple floor, and the beggars writhed helplessly on the ground.

To Wu Hong, these beggars were beneath even beasts. At least animals lacked intelligence and could bring some benefit to people.

But these beggars committed acts that outraged both gods and men—not only did they rob children of their freedom, but they deliberately maimed them to beg for money, and worst of all, they even preyed on beggar girls under ten years old. Their cruelty was beyond words.

Wu Hong showed no mercy. The beggar leader trembled, legs quaking and face ashen, unable to move, his trousers soaked with fear and stinking.

At last, the leader’s final henchman collapsed. In the blink of an eye, the leader felt as though he had been through hell, his spirit utterly broken.

“What do you want? Don’t come any closer! I belong to the Beggar’s Sect—the largest sect in the world!” The leader’s voice trembled as Wu Hong approached.

“Hmph. You’re less than a beast. Killing you would dirty my hands! I’ve changed my mind. I won’t kill you.”

Hearing this, the leader relaxed, thinking Wu Hong was intimidated by the Beggar’s Sect. But seeing his men’s suffering, he dared not threaten him further and stammered, “What do you want? Money? Take it all!”

Shaking, the leader gathered the small coins they’d taken from the young beggars and placed them before Wu Hong.

Wu Hong sneered coldly, “Killing you all with a single blow is too merciful.” He glanced at the beggars still wailing on the ground.

With a spray of blood, Wu Hong chopped off the leader’s hand. The man screamed like a slaughtered pig, crouching in agony.

“Hmph. Now you beasts can taste what it’s like to be crippled.” The leader was so delirious with pain he could barely speak, yet he dared not lose consciousness, fearing Wu Hong would strike again. Curling into a ball, he scrabbled backward, sobbing, “Don’t come any closer—I was wrong!”

The leader was so terrified by Wu Hong’s ferocity he actually began to cry.

But Wu Hong was unmoved. With several swift slices, he severed the leader’s tendons in hands and feet. The leader was beyond screaming now. Wu Hong, recalling his own experience of having his tendons cut and then restored by a doctor, felt no mercy. With a few more swift cuts, he hacked off all the leader’s hands and feet.

Now none of the beggars could resist; their fates lay solely in Wu Hong’s hands. Seeing Wu Hong standing there with a blood-dripping dagger, their faces turned ashen and they dared not even moan.

Ignoring the convulsing beggars, Wu Hong walked over to a crippled child and asked, “Child, how do you think these villains should be dealt with?”

The disabled child, unfazed by the bloody scene, looked on with excitement and joy. It was hard to imagine the suffering and horrors he’d endured to possess such composure at his age.

“Big brother! Make them crawl like us! Every time it rains, the pain in our wounds is unbearable!” the child replied.

Wu Hong’s heart ached at the boy’s innocent face.

He turned, walked to the other beggars, and with a few more cuts, severed the limbs of every adult beggar.

“Ah—kill me! Please, make it quick,” begged one called Huzi, writhing on the ground.

Wu Hong’s anger flared at the sight of this man. “You wretch, even a girl under ten was not spared by you! Despicable!”

He strode to Huzi’s side. The beggar, though terrified, tried to sound tough. “You’ve offended the Beggar’s Sect—there’s nowhere for you to hide in this world!”

“At death’s door and still defiant. I won’t let you off easy!” Wu Hong ripped off Huzi’s trousers and, with a cruel smile, said, “So you’re so interested in little girls. Turns out your little member is only good for pigs. Today you won’t die easily.”

With a single stroke, Wu Hong castrated Huzi, who fainted instantly from the pain.

The other beggars on the ground felt their hair stand on end.

“Devil! You’re a devil!” one beggar cried, his voice trembling.

Wu Hong ignored them, methodically castrating several more. His knife work, honed from years at the slaughterhouse, was precise—each wound clean and neat, with little blood loss.

He walked to the unconscious leader, picked up his money pouch, and took all the coins from his body.

He counted about fifty taels of silver, then squatted beside a little beggar girl with messy hair.

The little girl, having witnessed the bloodshed, showed no fear. Instead, she looked at Wu Hong with a pure, sweet smile. “Big brother, you really are a good person!”

Wu Hong patted her head. “Little one, those who kill aren’t good people. I’m just a bad man who punishes other bad men.”

“Then I’ll be a bad person too when I grow up—a bad person who spanks bad guys!” the girl said, her big eyes shining with innocence.

Wu Hong thought to himself, She’s still a child—her innocence shines through every word.

“These coins are for all of you. Take care of the others, understand?” Wu Hong handed her all the money, gesturing to the other children.

“Yes, I will, big brother!” she replied solemnly.

Wu Hong was reluctant to leave these children behind, but he could not guarantee their safety as long as his own was uncertain. There were too many in need, and he could only do his best for these few.

With a heavy heart, Wu Hong walked out of the ruined temple, unaware that his actions had triggered the Incarnation of the Great Sun Sutra, Body-Refining Style. At that moment, a faint halo radiated from his body—a sign of having reached the Blood-Refining Realm, though he had not yet reached the Tendon-Refining stage, which was extraordinary.

Images of the children’s tragic lives haunted his mind. If he had suffered as they did, he would have lost the will to live. Yet these children fought to survive in society’s lowest rungs, with no one to pity them.

The world’s warmth and compassion truly were thin and cold.

Rustling—the sound of footsteps treading on fallen leaves came from the woods behind and around him.

Could it be reinforcements sent by the beggar leader?

Wu Hong’s senses were now sharper than ever. He could clearly hear the movements—probably more than ten people.

Just then, a masked figure in black emerged ahead. His face was completely wrapped in cloth, only a pair of murderous eyes exposed—eyes that looked at Wu Hong as if he were already dead.

The figure, seeing Wu Hong radiate a faint yellow glow, was struck by a sense of awe, as if Wu Hong were sacred. He was startled—this prey had reached the Blood-Refining Realm. Today might be troublesome.

“Friend, someone has paid for your life. Don’t hold a grudge against us in the afterlife.” As the masked man finished, more than a dozen black-clad figures leapt from the woods, each wielding a crescent-shaped blade that glinted menacingly in the moonlight.

Wu Hong felt the hairs on his body stand on end.