Seeking good fortune and avoiding misfortune: Starting with death row inmates

Shen Chen didn't move.

He sat down in the chair, picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, and then put it down.

"Master Tang, are you finished?"

Tang Long narrowed his eyes: "What, Chief Shen, have you thought it through?"

"I've thought it through." Shen Chen stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his clothes. "My life is right here; you can come and take it anytime."

The air inside the hall froze instantly.

Wu Long's hand gripping the knife bulged with veins, and Tang Long's smile vanished completely.

"Shen Chen, do you know what you're saying?" Tang Long's voice was icy.

"I know." Shen Chen turned and walked out. "I won't teach you the Thousand Cloud Hand technique. If you want to use it, go ahead."

He walked to the door, stopped, turned back to look at Tang Long, and said with a hint of sarcasm, "I wish Master Tang good fortune in martial arts."

After saying that, he pushed open the door and went out.

Tang Long stood there, staring at Shen Chen's back, his face terribly gloomy.

"Boss," Wu Long stepped forward, "Should I...?"

"No need," Tang Long waved his hand. "Now is the time for a martial arts competition; it's not appropriate to touch him."

He turned around, sat back in his chair, and picked up his teacup.

"Let's wait a little longer, until he leaves the village..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Wu Long already understood.

Shen Chen walked out of Tang Long's residence at a leisurely pace.

The conversation he had just heard kept replaying in his mind: Li Tieshan, the martial arts school was wiped out, more than a hundred people were killed.

This information might come in handy later.

Back at his lodgings, Qin Pi was practicing his knife skills in the courtyard.

"You're back?" Qin Pi sheathed his sword. "What did Tang Long want to talk to you about?"

"I want the Thousand Cloud Hands." Shen Chen briefly explained what had happened.

Qin Pi sneered after hearing this.

"That old devil, he'd love to have his eyes glued to other people's martial arts manuals."

He then picked up the wooden sword and said to Shen Chen, "Come on, let's practice."

Shen Chen took the wooden knife; it felt slightly heavy and hard.

Qin Pi stepped back two steps, casually twirled his knife, his stance relaxed but his eyes fixed on Shen Chen like nails.

"Come."

Before he finished speaking, Shen Chen moved.

His footwork followed the style of the Thousand Cloud Hands, unpredictable and elusive, his figure swirling like a wisp of smoke towards Qin Pi's flank. His wooden sword moved silently, thrusting straight at Qin Pi's ribs.

"Snapped!"

A crisp sound.

Qin Pi had already blocked with his sword without anyone noticing. He barely moved his feet; with just a flick of his wrist, he accurately intercepted Shen Chen's attack.

"You haven't eaten?" Qin Pi asked, his tone tinged with displeasure.

Shen Chen twisted his wrist, and the wooden knife slid up Qin Pi's blade, changing from a thrust to a slice, targeting Qin Pi's wrist that was holding the knife.

Qin Pi snorted coldly, withdrew his sword and took half a step back, causing Shen Chen's attack to miss.

"He chatted with Tang Long for a few minutes and lost his mind?" Qin Pi's sword stance suddenly changed. He was no longer blocking, but taking the initiative to attack. The wind from his sword howled, carrying a sense of oppression.

The sound of wooden swords clashing became more frequent.

Shen Chen only defended and did not attack. Qin Pi's swordsmanship was wide and sweeping, seemingly rough, but in fact every strike landed in the most tricky position, forcing him to be busy and flustered.

Finally, Qin Pi delivered a heavy blow, which made Shen Chen's hand go numb and the wooden knife almost slip from his grasp.

"Stop." Qin Pi sheathed his sword and shook his head. "Your sword is missing something."

Shen Chen let out a long breath, his chest rising and falling slightly, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"I would appreciate your guidance, Brother Qin," Shen Chen said.

Qin Pi tapped his chest with the hilt of his knife.

"This is missing."

Qin Pi's eyes changed; the clarity vanished instantly, replaced by a ferocity almost like that of a wild beast.

"My swordsmanship doesn't have any fancy names; it's all about one word: killing."

He stared at Shen Chen and said, word by word, "When you draw your sword, you can't think about anything else. You can't think about how to win, you can't think about whether you'll get hurt, and you can't even have anger or hatred. Those are all distractions."

"So what are you thinking about?" Shen Chen asked.

"I want to know how he'll die." Qin Pi grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, but his smile was chilling. "I just think about where his head will fly when I strike, how high his blood will splatter. I treat him like a pig, a piece of wood, something that must disappear from your sight. That kind of thought is killing intent. My martial arts concept is called 'Blood and Rain,' without this killing intent, it's nothing but a fart."

Shen Chen was stunned.

The image of Tang Long's face flashed through his mind when he mentioned killing a hundred people at Li Tieshan's martial arts school.

Calm, indifferent, even with a hint of wistful smile.

So that's how it is...

That wasn't cruelty, nor anger, but a pure "thought" that treated human life as worthless.

For him, killing was as simple as eating and drinking.

"Come on, try again." Seeing him in a daze, Qin Pi handed him the knife again. "Come at me. Imagine you're going to kill me right now."

Shen Chen gripped the wooden knife again.

This time, he closed his eyes.

In my mind, Tang Long's face, Hei San's face, the county magistrate's face...

The injustice he suffered when he was imprisoned, and the corpses of his adoptive parents hanging from the roof beam.

Scenes flashed by.

Fear? Anger? No.

When he opened his eyes again, all those emotions had settled down, turning into a cold lake.

At the bottom of the lake, there was only a sharp, cold glint.

"Again."

Shen Chen's voice was a little hoarse.

He moved.

It was the same starting stance, but the air in the courtyard seemed to have been sucked away.

Qin Pi's nonchalant expression vanished completely; for the first time, he sensed danger from his sworn brother.

Shen Chen's wooden sword no longer flickered, but transformed into a straight black line, aiming directly for his throat. Fast, accurate, ruthless, without the slightest unnecessary movement.

The purpose of this strike was not to test or harass.

It is the end.

"Wow!"

Qin Pi let out a strange cry, his body reacting faster than his brain, and he leaned back sharply, the blade almost grazing his Adam's apple.

A chill ran from my tailbone straight up to the top of my head.

Before he could even regain his footing, Shen Chen's second strike had already arrived, slashing horizontally across his waist and abdomen.

"Snapped!"

Qin Pi hastily parried, and the two wooden swords collided with a dull, frightening sound. A tremendous force surged through him, causing him to stagger back three steps, his right arm, which was gripping the sword, suddenly feeling numb and tingling.

This kid... is he serious?!

Qin Pi looked up and met Shen Chen's eyes.

What kind of eyes were those?

There was no emotion, no fluctuation, like two deep, ancient wells, each reflecting only a dead person.

That is yourself.

Shen Chen blinked, as if he had just woken up from a long dream. He looked down at the wooden knife in his hand, and then at Qin Pi, who had a smile on his face.

"I……"

"Great!" Qin Pi gave him a thumbs up and laughed, "Remember that feeling, and bring it out in the ring tomorrow!"

The next day, at the martial arts training ground.

Shen Chen stood below the arena, waiting for the draw.

"Team A4 vs. Team A3."

The bandit in charge of the martial arts competition announced loudly.

Shen Chen looked at his lot: A4.

Opposite him, Hei San raised the lot in his hand, which clearly read: "Jia San".