Taoist priest goes to America

Night had fallen, and on a street in the East Side of Brooklyn, New York, the streetlights were spaced far apart, and some sections were completely dark.

The shops along the street had long since closed, their metal roller shutters pulled all the way down, reflecting a dim, cold light under the streetlights.

A woman in a dark gray trench coat walked out of the Microsoft building, her gait revealing an undeniable weariness.

She clutched her car keys, slung her fanny pack across her shoulder, and walked quickly, keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings as she went, reassuring herself, "Just a few more steps and I'll be there."

She has been working for eight consecutive days without a day off. She leaves home at 6 a.m. every morning and doesn't get home until after 1 a.m.

Because she recently gave birth and just returned to the company from a two-week maternity leave, the company didn't give her any more leave, and she didn't dare ask for more. If she rested longer, would she still have her job? She was unsure.

So, just as her child was getting used to drinking formula, she had to hand the child over to her grandparents and return to her work station with a heavy heart.

The boss said she had been resting for too long and would have to work overtime to catch up on the schedule as soon as she returned to the company, so she could only swallow her pride and bear it.

She had been working overtime until midnight for eight consecutive days without a break. Today was the latest, almost 1:12 a.m. She had never walked on the streets this late before.

Finally, the woman walked to her old Honda, unlocked the door with her key, and was about to open the driver's side door when two hands reached out from behind her at the same time.

One hand grabbed her shoulder, while the other pressed down on her wrist as she reached for the car door. A gun was pressed against the back of her head, making her feel the coldness and pressure of the metal.

"Don't move, hand over all the money." A rough male voice came from behind her, and she immediately understood what was going on.

She immediately raised her hands; the movement was so quick that it was ingrained in the muscle memory of Americans.

The woman turned her head and saw two figures wearing black sled hats, their faces covered except for their eyes and mouths.

She felt sweat beading on her back, her voice trembling, but she tried to keep her tone calm. "The money... mine's all in my bag, take it... don't hurt me, I have elderly people and children to support..."

Before she could finish speaking, the robber on her left raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face. The heavy force of the slap made a loud "smack" sound, and her head was pulled to the right by the slap, causing her body to stagger.

The woman was stunned by the slap, but before she could recover, the robber on her right grabbed her hair at the back of her head and slammed her face against the car window.

Her nose hit the driver's side window with a dull thud. The glass didn't break, but her nose immediately turned red.

Her body was pressed against the car window, her head was roughly pressed down by a hand, her face was distorted by the glass, and tears welled up in her eyes, leaving blurry streaks on the car window.

"Shut up, you bitch! I told you not to move!"

The man who held her down began to grope her, starting with her thighs, then her pockets, and then moving up her waist.

Another person stood to the side, facing both ends of the street, scanning back and forth warily, seemingly keeping watch.

The woman pressed her face against the car window, sobbing uncontrollably, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please let me go... I have a newborn child, he can't be without his mother! I'll give you all the money, please don't kill me, please don't kill me..."

The robber who was holding her down slammed her against the car window again, this time with even more force. Her face hit the glass a second time, and a new crack appeared on the surface of the glass.

"I told you to shut up! Be quiet! If you say another word, I'll kill you." The robber rummaged through the cash in his purse with one hand and released the safety on his pistol with the other.

She stopped speaking and only let out soft sobs.

The lookout was still watching both sides of the street. His gaze swept from the right side of the street to the left side, and he suddenly caught a glimpse of a dark shadow flashing across the last lamppost on the left.

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, and when he looked again, there was indeed nothing on the lamppost. He must have been too nervous and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Then his body tensed up, and his throat suddenly bulged outwards, as if something was coming out of it.

"Pop." A slender hidden blade pierced through the skin of his Adam's apple, splitting his Adam's apple in two.

The tip of the sword paused briefly after piercing his throat, then continued slicing down his neck all the way to his chest.

His clothes were cut open with a clean slit, and blood gushed out from the cut, flowing down his front and dripping onto the road with a pattering sound like rain.

The lookout robber's mouth was wide open, but he could no longer make a sound. Only a series of muffled bubbles squeezed out from the rupture in his throat. Blood gushed from the cut, and the loud dripping sound continued for a while in the quiet night before gradually disappearing.

The robber fell forward, his knees hitting the ground first, then he rolled to his side, face down, blood still gushing from the gash in his throat.

The robber who was holding the woman heard a strange noise behind him. He stopped searching and swallowed hard.

"Hey... what's going on?" he asked hesitantly, but his companion behind him could no longer answer him.

Then he turned around abruptly and pointed the gun, which had its safety off, in the direction from which the sound came.

The robber had just turned halfway when a dark red arc of light flashed from his right side of vision, and a thin blade sliced ​​into the robber's gun-wielding arm.

His right wrist was touched first and then severed by the red light in an instant. His arm remained still for a moment, as if he had not yet realized that it had been severed. Then his entire hand slid off the cut and landed on the ground with his fingers still in the grip of a gun.

Blood gushed from the cut, splattering onto the robber's trousers and shoes.

The robber covered his bleeding wound with his other hand, let out a blood-curdling scream, and his knees buckled as he knelt on the ground in agony.

The dark red arc of light hadn't stopped; it continued to move as the robber knelt, passing right past his eyes.

The robber screamed once, and the top and bottom halves of his watermelon separated, as if something had sliced ​​it horizontally in half.

The cut was clean and smooth. His body remained still, kneeling on one knee, and then the upper half of the watermelon slid off the cut and fell to the ground with a wet, muffled thud.

The remaining half of the watermelon remained in its original position. The robber, with his chin slightly open, fell forward and landed face down on the road. The cut inside the watermelon was exposed, and watermelon juice seeping from the cut dripped down his chin.

"The fourteenth..." Li An looked at the crescent-shaped arm blade, which was absorbing the blood it had stained and quickly became clean.

"It's really useful. The skill [Flesh and Blood Split]..." Li An bent his arm to put away the arm blade, then opened his right palm, and four thick flesh and blood fibers emerged from his palm, lifting up the corpse on the ground.

The woman pressed against the car window dared not turn around; she heard many sounds. She heard something fall onto the road, and a continuous dripping sound, as if something was gushing out not far behind her.

But she didn't turn around. Her eyes were closed, her forehead pressed against the car window, her shoulders trembling. She didn't know when she should turn around, nor did she know what was happening behind her.

The poor woman just stood there sobbing, the wind blowing from the street, lifting the hair that covered her face, revealing the red and swollen wounds on her face.

After a long time, she heard no footsteps or anyone speaking. Only then did she dare to slowly turn her head.

There were no more robbers behind her; only the large patch of dark red blood on the ground told her that what had just happened was not an illusion.

Her belongings were scattered among the bloodstains: her bag, lipstick, and car keys had been rummaged through and thrown on the ground by the robbers. Although her wallet was open, the cash and her phone inside were still there.

The poor woman had no idea what had happened; there was no one else at the intersection except her.

She stood there, reached out and touched her nose. When her hand touched the wound, she recoiled in pain. Then she quickly bent down, picked up the scattered items one by one, put them back in her bag, got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and drove away from the eerie place.