Inside the blacksmith's shop.
Dongfang Jing continued forging iron.
"Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong!"
The hammering was rhythmic and steady, as if everything outside was irrelevant to him.
But his purple eyes, hidden beneath the mask, were even more profound than before.
He could sense a dense, violent, and bloody soul force hovering in the sky above the west of the city.
He could also hear the suppressed cries and the whispers of people in despair on the streets.
His first test was: "A clear mind and a bright heart – to clarify one's aspirations and establish one's principles."
He came here to experience human suffering and to clarify his own path.
But when true darkness descended, he found himself in a dilemma.
Make a move?
That would contradict his original intention of "experiencing the suffering of ordinary people as an ordinary person".
The three months of hard work he had endured to complete the divine test might be in vain.
Not making a move?
How could we watch helplessly as the people of this city died in despair?
His grip on the hammer tightened involuntarily.
He has always believed that having power but choosing to stand by is the helplessness of the weak.
But now he realizes that when being a bystander becomes an active choice, it is itself a sin.
...
When Dragonflame City was shrouded in despair
A relief convoy, like a faint ray of light, appeared on the eastern horizon of the city.
This is a convoy organized by a charity in Xingluo City. After going through many hardships and crossing several desolate Gobi deserts, they finally arrived at this remote border town.
The vehicle was loaded with various precious medicines.
Among them was the "Ningbi Pill," which haunted the dreams of squad leader Zhang Yong.
The news spread somehow, and almost the moment the convoy entered the city, the families of patients throughout the city were in an uproar.
They poured out of the dilapidated houses and gathered on both sides of the street in the east of the city, their sallow faces filled with excitement and anticipation.
They looked at the carriages bearing the logos of charitable organizations like thirsty travelers in the desert seeing an oasis.
That was a lifeline!
Zhang Yong was also squeezed into the crowd, his emotions more excited than anyone else's.
He held his younger brother Xiaofeng's hand. Xiaofeng's face was as pale as paper, and his body was so thin that it looked as if a gust of wind could blow him over.
"Xiao Feng, did you see that? Ningbi Pill! Ningbi Pill is here! Your illness can be cured!" Zhang Yong shouted incoherently, his eyes welling up with tears.
Xiao Feng leaned against her brother's chest, smiled weakly, and her eyes sparkled with hope.
However, this glimmer of hope lasted only a few minutes.
Just as the convoy slowly entered the city gate, and the person in charge was about to announce the distribution of medicines to the eagerly awaiting crowd, a blood-red figure appeared in front of the convoy like a ghost.
It was a bloodbath.
Behind him followed a dozen or so powerful Fallen Soul Masters, each with a bloodthirsty grin on their face.
"Get the hell out of my way!"
Blood Butcher kicked over a roadside stall and arrogantly walked up to the convoy leader.
The person in charge was a middle-aged man at the Soul Master level. Seeing the chilling fluctuations of soul power emanating from Xue Tu, his face paled, but he still mustered his courage and said, "Who are you? This batch of medicine was donated by Xingluo City's Baicaotang to the people of Longyan City. Please don't..."
"Smack!"
Before he could finish speaking, Blood Butcher slapped him across the face.
The immense force sent him flying, his teeth and blood splattering everywhere, and half his face instantly swelled up like a pig's head.
"I don't care what kind of bullshit Baicaotang you are!" Blood Butcher grinned savagely, stepping on the person in charge's chest and slapping the man's face with the back of his blood-red scimitar.
"Now, all of these things are mine."
He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the stunned crowd, his voice like icicles in the dead of winter.
"Does anyone have a problem with this?"
Dead silence.
The entire street was deathly silent.
An expression of disbelief froze on everyone's face.
One second they were in heaven, the next they were dragged into hell.
The newly ignited flame of hope was extinguished by this bucket of ice water, leaving not a trace of smoke.
Crushing hope is far more cruel than simply giving someone despair.
Blood Butcher enjoyed this feeling. He watched the expressions of those people change from hope to despair and let out a strange, amused laugh.
"Move all the medicines to the west side of the city for me!"
He gave the order to his subordinates.
The fallen soul masters burst into laughter and rushed violently toward the carriage, beginning to seize the medicine.
Zhang Yong's body was trembling violently in the crowd.
Looking at the medicine boxes that were being tossed around like trash, and at the light in his younger brother Xiaofeng's eyes dimming instantly, he felt a surge of blood rush to his head.
Reason was completely burned away at that moment.
Several of his city guard colleagues grabbed him and shook their heads frantically at him.
"Old Zhang, don't be impulsive! That's a Soul Emperor! We can't afford to mess with him!"
"Just bear with it for Xiaofeng's sake!"
Yes, for Xiaofeng.
But now, even Xiao Feng's only hope has been taken away, so what can he endure?
He slowly, yet with unwavering determination, pushed away his colleague's hand.
He looked at his younger brother's pale face and whispered, "Xiao Feng, wait for me."
Then, he turned around, faced the blood-red figure, and let out a roar that had been suppressed for too long.
"Give us back our medicine!"
This roar shattered the deathly silence of the street.
All eyes were focused on this reckless city guard squad leader.
Blood Butcher also stopped in his tracks. He turned his head with interest, looking at this ant who dared to provoke him.
"Oh? What did you say? I didn't hear you."
Zhang Yong did not speak again.
He simply drew the brand-new sword from his waist slowly.
The sword with flowing water patterns on its blade.
The blade gleamed with an unyielding, cold light in the sunlight.
...
The moment Zhang Yong drew his knife, time seemed to slow down.
The surrounding noise, cries, and screams seemed to fade away from him.
All he could see was that lofty, mocking, blood-red figure.
He knew he was fighting a losing battle.
The difference between an ordinary person and a Soul Emperor is not just a matter of level; it's like the chasm between an ant and the heavens.
Forget about fighting, the opponent only needs a glance to make him annihilate.
But he still drew his sword.
Because behind him were his younger brother Xiaofeng's eyes, now dimmed.
He could endure bullying, he could endure oppression, he could live like a dog.
But he couldn't bear the sight of the last glimmer of light in his brother's eyes being extinguished.
I'll say it again!
Zhang Yong's chest heaved violently, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Give the medicine back!"
"Hahaha..."
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(End of chapter)