Killing Monks

The next morning, Guangyuan prepared to leave.

His skin wounds had already scabbed over, but the remaining internal injuries would require more time to heal. Hu Dafu packed his belongings and followed behind him, the two of them going downstairs one after the other.

In the lobby, the shopkeeper was wiping the counter with a rag. When he saw them come down, he immediately put on a smile.

"Master, you're awake? Would you like some breakfast?"

Guangyuan did not answer.

He stood at the top of the stairs, his gaze sweeping across the inn.

The inn's tables were polished to a shine, the benches were neatly arranged, and the "Sifang Inn" flag on the flagpole at the entrance fluttered in the morning breeze.

Everything was like a real inn.

But he knew it wasn't true.

Such things happen far too often in the martial arts world. For a treasure, for a fortune, for a martial arts manual, for a secret that cannot be revealed...

Any reason can lead someone to kill or lose their life.

He's seen it all.

The only thing that made him take a second look was that these people actually dared to covet government silver.

The specifications of official silver differed from those of silver circulating in the market; its purity, shape, and markings were easily discernible. Even if robbed, it couldn't be used directly; it had to be melted down and recast before it could be spent.

Since the founding of the Northern Zhou Dynasty, very few people have dared to rob government silver.

Anyone who dared to take bribes ended up with their entire family being executed and their nine generations of relatives implicated.

But now, in this little-known shop, several groups of people are simultaneously eyeing that batch of official silver.

The Blood Prince, a soul-reaping killer, or perhaps someone else entirely.

In addition, he heard from Yin Ping about the Yellow River overflowing, the severe drought in Hebei, and the officialdom's observations of the court levying additional taxes and building gardens.

Guangyuan had a vague guess in his mind.

The Northern Zhou Dynasty was in decline.

But these things are none of his business.

What made him stop was something else.

In this inn, there are still innocent people, and people whom no one cares about.

A true shopkeeper, a true waiter, a waiter, and a cook.

What did they do wrong?

They hadn't done anything wrong. They were just running an inn, welcoming and seeing off guests, earning a meager living. Then one day, a group of people came, killed them, took over their place, and waited to rob others.

Nobody cares about them.

In the end, those who killed them will likely be killed by others who covet the government's silver.

But that's not fair.

They shouldn't have died like that. Their revenge deserves to be taken.

Guangyuan withdrew his gaze and walked towards the counter.

When the shopkeeper saw him coming, his smile deepened.

"Master, what are your instructions?"

Guangyuan looked at him.

"The Sifang Inn originally had a manager." His voice was calm. "He worked there for twenty years. He wasn't bad at it, but he wasn't great either. He was occasionally greedy for small gains, but he never harmed anyone."

The shopkeeper's expression changed slightly.

"There were originally four people at the inn: a waiter, a waiter-in-waiting, and a cook," Guangyuan continued. "What did they do wrong?"

He stared into the shopkeeper's eyes.

Why did you kill them?

The shopkeeper paused for a moment, then chuckled dryly.

"Master, what are you saying? I don't understand..."

"You know what I'm talking about."

Guangyuan's voice was filled with suppressed anger: "I'm asking you! What did they do wrong that you want to kill them?"

The shopkeeper's smile froze on his face.

The lobby suddenly fell silent.

At the top of the stairs, the wealthy businessman appeared out of nowhere, standing with his hands behind his back, coldly watching them. Behind him, two soul-reaping figures stood on either side, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

At the door of the guest room on the other side, the young man in red leaned against the door frame, gently waving his folding fan, a playful smile on his lips.

They just watched.

Looking at Guangyuan, looking at the shopkeeper.

No one spoke.

Nobody gets involved.

It's like watching a play, seeing how the shopkeeper handles the situation!

Guangyuan stared into the shopkeeper's eyes and said, "When you killed them, did you ever think that one day someone would do the same to you?"

"I won't ask your thoughts, I won't ask if you're right or wrong, I won't ask what you've done in your life. If I kill you, I kill you."

The shopkeeper still had a smile on his face, but that smile had frozen.

"Master, what you're saying..." he chuckled dryly, "You can't just make baseless accusations! We're all honest, law-abiding business people, and we've been running this shop for over ten years!"

The waiter next to him was wiping the table with his head down, but the rag in his hand didn't move for a long time. He kept glancing at Guangyuan out of the corner of his eye, with vigilance and assessment.

Behind Guangyuan, a waiter was giving the shopkeeper a meaningful look.

He was asking, "Should we get rid of this monk?"

At this moment, Guangyuan's steps were unsteady and his breathing was unstable; he was clearly a sickly person. Let alone a master, he probably couldn't even defeat an ordinary person.

Guangyuan finished speaking his last words: "I killed you all to seek justice for those you killed."

"Murder comes at a price."

The shopkeeper opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, when suddenly he felt a blur.

A thin white mist, appearing from nowhere, instantly filled his vision.

A figure could be seen moving in the fog.

One.

two.

Three.

more and more.

The figures emerged from the fog and gradually became clearer.

They were the original innkeeper, the waiters, the waiters, and the cooks.

Their faces were deathly pale, their eyes fixed on him as they approached step by step.

"You...you all..."

The shopkeeper wanted to leave, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot.

The men drew closer and closer. The one in front was the shopkeeper he had killed; a knife wound remained on his neck, his eyes wide open, and he reached out to grab him.

"Give me back my life..."

"Give me back my life..."

Countless sounds echoed in the fog, surging in from all directions, drilling into his ears and his mind.

The shopkeeper let out a sinister laugh.

"I'm not afraid of living people, so why would I be afraid of a bunch of dead people?!"

He roared and attacked suddenly!

He slapped the shopkeeper in the chest.

"Bang!"

The figure flew backward and crashed into the fog.

But even more pounced on them.

The waiter punched him in the face.

The waiter kicked him in the waist.

The cook swung a cleaver and smashed it hard on the back of his head.

The shopkeeper has gone mad.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, engaging in a fierce and brutal fight with those "people." The wind howled from his punches, and his legs flew through the air; the battle was incredibly intense and brutal.

In the fog, people kept falling, and people kept getting up.

I don't know how long the fight lasted.

Suddenly, everything fell silent.

The fog has lifted.

The shopkeeper collapsed behind the counter, his chest caved in, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were still open.

Beside him lay the corpses of the waiters, waitresses, and cooks, lying haphazardly and motionless.

They killed each other and perished together.

To the others in the inn, all they saw was the innkeeper suddenly freeze, then his face change drastically, as if he'd seen a ghost. Then he suddenly attacked, punching the waiter beside him!

The waiter was caught off guard and was knocked to the ground with a punch.

The waiter rushed forward, only to be kicked away by the manager.

The cook rushed over with a cleaver and started fighting with the shopkeeper.

They fought fiercely, each punch landing with deadly force.

It only took a few breaths.

They're all dead.

They lay scattered all over the ground.

While they were fighting, Guangyuan took Hu Dafu and drifted away, leaving the inn in complete silence.

The young man in red stood at the door, his eyes filled with apprehension.

"Young master?" A servant leaned closer and whispered, "That monk..."

The young man in red did not turn around.

"This monk," he said, "is a wicked monk."

He paused.

"Let's ignore him."