The Wind-Controlling Swordsmanship from Under One Person

Chapter 268 Night Owl Gang

After leaving the cunning neighborhood, Qin Ye went wherever there was space to go.

In the bottom nest, a wider passage often means a stronger sphere of influence.

Unlike the lowly hustlers who eke out a living in the community, gangsters are among the rulers of the underworld, and their territories are naturally much more respectable.

Sure enough, not long after, Qin Ye discovered the gang in the area in a dirty alley.

They were dozens of gang members dressed in a punk style, the barrels of their old shotguns were polished to a shine, and several STC standard automatic rifles were engraved with crude graffiti.

Several corpses lay scattered on the ground around them, blood still gushing from the bullet holes, forming dark red streams in the cratered ground.

At this moment, a boy was kneeling in a pool of blood, his forehead marked with a noticeable dent from the cold barrel of a shotgun.

Standing before the boy was an exceptionally robust man with a scarred face; among the malnourished inhabitants of the bottom nest, such a strong physique was a symbol of status.

His calloused fingers gently caressed the trigger, and the crisscrossing scars on his face twisted and writh with a ferocious smile.

"Don't...don't kill me, boss, don't kill me! I'm very useful, I can do anything for you!" The boy's voice trembled, but his eyes were unusually clear. His dirty fingers dug into the ground, trying his best to show that he was valuable.

Scarface looked down at the begging garbage collector with great interest. In his eyes, the man was nothing more than a filthy insect, but he had aroused a certain interest in him.

His index finger, which was resting on the trigger, stopped pulling, and he grinned, revealing a mouthful of black teeth:
"Oh? Then tell me, what use are you?"

"I...I..." The boy gasped for breath, his eyes darting rapidly in their deep-set sockets. Suddenly, he straightened his hunched back as if grasping at a lifeline: "I can run fast! Really fast! I can deliver goods, deliver messages, and run errands for you!"

"Oh, is that so?" Scarface chuckled amusedly, then slowly lowered the shotgun that had been resting on the boy's head.

However, just as the boy thought he had been appreciated and his life was saved, and his tense shoulders were about to relax...

Scarface reached to his waist, pulled out a forearm-length dagger, and plunged it into the boy's thigh, causing blood to spurt out!

"what!!!"

A piercing scream echoed through the alley, and blood splattered on Scarface's boots, but he laughed even more wildly.

He grabbed the boy's hair, forcing him to face the dark alley, and sneered, "Didn't you say you were fast? Heh heh, that alleyway over there. If you can get out of there in a minute, I'll take you."

That alley was at least two or three hundred meters deep. Even under normal circumstances, the boy, with his malnourished and frail body, would have difficulty passing through it in a minute, let alone now that a dagger was piercing through his thigh.

I'm afraid that even if Scarface kills him, he'll die from blood loss halfway there.

Scarface had no intention of taking in this skinny junk collector; it was just a game to kill time.

Beneath the blood-stained eyelashes of the boy, a tenacious spirit shone through him. With a muffled groan squeezed out from between his teeth, he used the leg pierced by the dagger to prop himself up.

Ignoring his bleeding thigh, he limped towards the other end of the alley.

"ten"

The scarred man's drawn-out voice echoed through the alley, like the lingering toll of a death knell.

The boy had barely staggered into the alleyway when a chorus of boos and whistles erupted from his gang members behind him. Someone even fired a shot into the air, as if an old cat were chasing away wild rats.

"thirty…"

The boy stumbled and ran, and with each violent movement, the dagger stuck in his thigh continued to tear at his flesh. His entire trouser leg was completely soaked in blood, sticking stickily to his skin, and streams of blood flowed down his calf, leaving a scarlet path on the ground.

"Fifty…"

In the last ten seconds, the boy was no longer running, but crawling.

His fingernails flipped up from the excessive force, leaving several bloody furrows on the rough ground.

He was still at least fifty meters away from the alley entrance. He kept falling and getting up again, his heavy breathing like a bellows, fueling the flame of survival in the boy's eyes.

"sixty!"

As Scarface made his mocking announcement, deafening laughter erupted from the other end of the alley, along with the sound of guns being cocked.

The boy could no longer hold on and collapsed to the ground with a thud. His face was pressed against the cold ground, and his unfocused pupils stared straight ahead.

He was only a few meters away from the alley entrance.

But those few meters seemed to stretch longer than his humble and lowly life.

Pa…pa…

Just then, a series of distinctive footsteps reached the boy's gradually fading hearing.

The footsteps were not like the hurried or restless pace of Di Chao; each step was steady as if it had been precisely calculated, making them seem out of place in the dirty alley.

The boy blinked his blurry eyes, and a black robe came into view. As his gaze moved upward, he saw a pair of deep, unfathomable eyes he had never seen before.

He didn't know how to describe it, but it reminded him of his long-deceased grandfather, who, in a rare moment of lucidity, had described to him the starry sky that could only be seen in the world outside the Nest City.

"You...came to save me?"

The boy didn't know why he would ask such a foolish question. In the dog-eat-dog world of the underworld, killing was as common as breathing, and the word "save" was rarer than clean water.

Perhaps when people are in despair, everyone seems like a savior.

The boy received no response. Suddenly, a tearing pain struck him, and the dagger stuck in his thigh was pulled out.

Then he saw the figure in front of him step over him and walk into the alley.

"Oh? There are even people delivering themselves to our doorstep."

"There looks like a lot of meat, enough to eat for several days, hehe."

Laughter and mockery rose and fell, and they looked at Qin Ye as if he were a walking piece of meat.

The survival resources in the bottom nest are extremely scarce, and cannibalism is a common phenomenon. The Wild Dog Gang is well-versed in this, and its territory is feared by all.

It is said that the gang's upper echelons even developed a complete 'slaughtering process'.

Qin Ye casually toyed with the blood-stained dagger, the blade flashing between his fingers, drawing blood-red arcs in the dim light.

His pace was unhurried, as if he were taking a stroll in his own backyard.

Such an arrogant attitude provoked Scarface, the leader of the stormtroopers.

Moreover, this ignorant insect dared to pull out his dagger without permission, which meant it was courting death!

Scarface snatched the automatic rifle from his subordinate and, without saying a word, pulled the trigger and opened fire.

A hail of bullets rained down on the alley.

However, Qin Ye continued to walk forward leisurely, without even changing the distance between his steps.

Only when the first bullet came hurtling towards him did he slowly raise the dagger in his hand.

Ding ding ding—

A series of crisp metallic clanging sounds echoed through the alley, accompanied by flying sparks, as each bullet was precisely cleaved in two. Scarface emptied his magazine and, finding his opponent still standing, his expression turned grim.

Losing face in front of your underlings is a big deal, but it can also be a small one. At the very least, it means you'll lose face and your underlings might defect to other squads within the gang. At worst, some ambitious person might take the opportunity to replace you.

He gave a cold snort with a gloomy expression and pulled a thermobaric bomb from his pocket.

He obtained this from a madman at a considerable cost.

The molten metal bomb traced a perfect parabola through the air, landing precisely where Qin Ye was about to step. A burst of molten lava-like flames instantly engulfed him completely.

"Boss, that's spot on! Awesome!"

The chorus of flattery from his underlings softened Scarface's gloomy expression, and the corners of his mouth once again curled into that signature cruel smile.

But at that moment, a strange blood-red vortex suddenly appeared in the blazing fire. The vortex writhed like a living thing, and gradually devoured the flames of the molten metal bomb.

The Wild Dog Gang members, who had been unfazed by the sight of blades and bullets, froze on the spot. Their wide eyes reflected the figure slowly emerging from the blood-red vortex, and they unconsciously took a half-step back.

His eyes were filled with fear and vigilance.

"A...a psychic...a psychic!"

The Wild Dog Gang member pointed at Qin Ye and said tremblingly.

Psionicists are a group of people with extraordinary powers. Their status in the Empire is peculiar, making them both loved and feared by the Empire's rulers.

The Empire needs psionicists to do things that no one else can do, such as 'star whisperers' who can communicate across the galaxy, and 'navigators' who can guide faster-than-light travel in warp space.

These roles are irreplaceable, yet they must be strictly controlled.

Because their source of power is that subspace ruled by the Chaos God.

Psykers can draw energy from the warp to wield their abilities; however, whenever they do, their souls shine like bright lighthouses in the warp, attracting the attention of the warp's chaotic demigods.

Psionicists with weak willpower or who have not received proper protective training are easily corrupted by chaos.

Thus, their bodies are possessed, becoming conduits for chaotic evil gods and demons to enter the real world, bringing disaster to the human empire.

Furthermore, some psionicists possess abilities that are too powerful and difficult to control. They may unknowingly release their psionic energy, causing immeasurable damage to themselves and those around them.

It can be said that every psionicist is a potential threat that the Empire is always on high alert for.

Just like now, the Wild Dogs members looked at the figure surrounded by crimson psychic energy, as if they could already see the harbinger of their impending death.

"What's there to be afraid of! So what if he's a psionicist? I've never even eaten a psionicist before, this is perfect for a treat!"

Scarface licked his chapped lips and roared, whether he was genuinely hungry or simply trying to maintain his authority in front of his underlings was unclear.

But he was not a reckless man; instead of rushing forward, he suddenly waved his hand:

"Fuck him for me!"

However, before the gunshot rang out, he discovered that the black-robed figure in the alley had disappeared without a trace.

Just as Scarface was searching around, he suddenly felt a chill on the back of his neck. He instinctively raised his hand to touch it, but only felt a warm, slippery liquid gushing out.

In the last moment before his consciousness faded, he vaguely saw his headless body slowly fall down.

The members of the Wild Dogs gang panicked when they saw their leader beheaded so swiftly and mysteriously.

Some people hysterically pulled the trigger and fired wildly, but were immediately beheaded.

Some people knelt down on the ground, their foreheads pressed against the earth, trembling as they uttered various vows of begging for mercy.

Qin Ye scanned the group: "What gang are you from, and how many of you are there?"

A thin, hunched-over man who looked remarkably like an underdeveloped ape immediately scrambled forward: "Reporting to the psychic, we are the Wild Dog Gang's third assault team, originally consisting of thirty-two men."

At this point, the skinny man stretched his neck comically and began to count the people kneeling around him one by one.

"Right now... there are nine of us left, including myself. As for the entire Wild Dog Gang, there might be several thousand members? Well... I really can't say for sure."

Qin Ye nodded slightly, quite satisfied with the thin man's honest confession.

This is a pragmatic person.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Grek, sir."

If we interpret Qin Ye's name in terms of the High and Low Gothic languages ​​of his world as given by the Floating Life Record, then the name "Skinny Man" is the same as names like "Dog Egg" or "Dog Leftovers," which are easy to raise.

"Okay, from now on you'll be called Dog Egg." Qin Ye looked down at everyone and announced condescendingly, "From now on, you'll follow me, and I guarantee you'll never go hungry again. My gang is called the Night Owl Gang, and our gang's goal is to take over the Underworld. Anyone object?"

No one would object unless that person was incredibly stubborn.

The nine survivors immediately prostrated themselves, praising the Night Owl Gang in the most obsequious tone, displaying the utterly subservient attitude of grass bending in the wind.

This is the characteristic of the bottom hive; loyalty is as scarce as the air in the bottom hive.

Whoever has the strongest fist, whoever can bring food and safety, is the boss.

Qin Ye's gaze swept towards the end of the alley.

The boy was still alive, though he was too weak to lift his head, but his bloodshot eyes were still fixed on them.

Despite the severe blood loss, the body was twitching slightly, yet stubbornly maintained consciousness.

"Dog Egg." He raised his chin. "Bring that kid along too."

"Alright, boss, you want something tender, right? Let me tell you, this kind of lad has the tenderest meat, especially the inner thigh. I'll grill it for you myself." Gou Dan rubbed his hands together, his face full of flattery.

"Eat my ass!" Qin Ye kicked Gou Dan in the butt, making him stagger. "We Night Owls don't eat garbage. If we're going to eat, we'll eat Grox's Burger, Calfien's Sand Demon Soup, Elven Cheese, or meat from the top-tier nobles."

These words exploded in the ears of the nine people like a thunderbolt. Dog Egg remained frozen in place, still in the comical position after being kicked, while the other eight people stared wide-eyed.

They had only ever seen these food names in tattered magazines they found while scavenging; those beautifully printed papers had long been considered luxury items by gang leaders.

And now, the new boss is casually saying he wants to eat these?

Even the high-ranking nobles have become options on the menu.

At that moment, the nine people inwardly exclaimed in awe.

Compared to that country bumpkin with the scarred face, this new boss's prestige is practically on par with the Holy Terra!
No! It should be said that scum like Scarface doesn't even deserve to be compared to him!

There's a future in following a leader like that.

"Boss is mighty!!!"

(End of this chapter)