One Sword To Pacify The World

At twenty-two, Chen Ping mastered the Thirty-Six Styles of Tan Leg, able to break eight small white poplars as thick as a bowl in one kick. Even then, his legs were somewhat "ugly." Muscles were knotted, calluses and thick skin everywhere… Now, his legs were smooth and tender, without calluses, yet not strong. The red, swollen, broken areas were a vibrant peach-like color. "This isn't my leg," Chen Ping muttered to himself, suddenly stretching out his dirty, black hands. He saw long, slender fingers, palms and fingertips covered in bloody wounds. A vague guess formed in his mind, and he looked around. Everywhere he looked, pedestrians were dressed in retro clothing, some carrying knives and swords, moving swiftly. Low houses clustered together, a few two- or three-story buildings looking antique, with upturned eaves and corners… "Of course it's your leg." A dull-looking boy next to him struggled to grab a louse from under his armpit, chewed it a few times, swallowed it, and turned to look at him. "I saw Boss Yan break your leg that day." The man's left arm was severed at the elbow, the wound not fully healed, with traces of blood still seeping out. However, he seemed to feel no pain. His eyes were blank, and when he looked at Chen Ping, there was an indescribable meaning. It was hard to tell if it was pity or mockery. Was it pity for his companion who might have suffered brain damage from the fever caused by his injury, making him temporarily unable to understand his current situation? Or was it mockery of his own miserable predicament? Who could possibly live longer than whom? Chen Ping, whose mind was in turmoil, temporarily forgot the pain of his broken leg. His memory was still stuck in the hail of bullets, a bullet tearing open his skull... He touched his head; his scalp seemed to still be there, but his eyes seemed to be malfunctioning. Whenever he focused on his brain, he would hallucinate, seeing a white silkworm moving deep in his mind. A phantom attribute panel also appeared before his eyes. Chen Ping tried hard to see the numbers, but found the handwriting trembling so badly that he couldn't see them clearly. A possibility occurred to Chen Ping, and his heart pounded. He noticed the boy opposite him staring at him with a blank expression and a slightly complicated look in his eyes, so he tentatively asked, "Was your hand also chopped off by Boss Yan?" The boy 's gaze became even stranger. "No, I chopped it off myself," the boy said calmly, as if he had chopped off someone else's hand. "Last year during the snowstorm, to escape the Northern Zhou cavalry, I and the villagers fled south. We ran out of food on the way, and my younger sister was kidnapped by some beasts… I chased them for two days and killed them… During the fight, I was hit in the left arm by a poisoned arrow. I had no other choice but to cut it off." A ruthless man! Chen Ping's eyelids twitched violently. He understood the desolation in the boy's calm words, but didn't ask if his sister had been rescued. Turning his head, he saw a young man on his right with a crooked mouth and drooling. This man hadn't looked up, just staring blankly at his swollen, severed leg, constantly swallowing. " Damn... So, I've lost a leg, you've lost an arm, we're both disabled beggars, and that one too..." "Yeah, he's not very bright, his name is Big Fool. You'd better watch out, he might mistake your leg for a chicken leg and gnaw it off, he can't tell the difference." "What about the other two?" Chen Ping noticed two other people not far away, similarly scantily clad and filthy, with broken bowls in front of them, looking about fifteen or sixteen years old. But they had all their limbs, and even their faces were quite clean, somewhat delicate. There were snowflakes left on their eyebrows, presumably from wiping their faces with snow, showing they were meticulous people. Even if they had fallen to the point of begging, they still wanted to present their best side to outsiders. "Them..." the boy drawled. "Little Table and Little Stool are brothers. They attended a private school for a few years, but after their family fell into poverty, they wanted to get ahead, so they cut themselves off to try and get a job at the Jinghai Prince's Mansion, but they weren't accepted, so they ended up on the streets." Indeed, they were also disabled. Chen Ping's skin twitched, finally confirming something; his situation was more difficult than he had imagined. Hearing this, the two Sunflower Brothers, who had been trying so hard to present their best selves, lowered their heads even further. "Left hand severed, why do you have to reopen old wounds?" With a clear voice, a small, thin figure emerged from behind. This person spoke, quickly walking to Chen Ping, supporting him as he sat up, pulling a chicken leg and a large white steamed bun from their pocket, and stuffing them into his hands. "Eat quickly, you've been hungry for a day and a night, and you're injured. I was worried you wouldn't wake up. Thank goodness, thank goodness." Who was this person, and why were they being so kind to him? A newcomer, Chen Ping had no memory of his previous life. For a moment, he simply stared blankly at the newcomer. His clothes were tattered, his face painted with black and yellow graffiti, making his features completely unrecognizable, except for a pair of dark, concerned eyes. There was a bump on the other person's head, oozing blood... From his build, clothes, and the food in his hand, Chen Ping roughly made a judgment. This was also a little beggar, probably even younger. Maybe eleven or twelve, maybe thirteen or fourteen, anyway, skinny and his age was hard to tell. So, chicken legs and steamed buns. "Did you steal them?" "Steal what? Old Cheng from Fuyuan Restaurant is heartless and cruel. He'd rather dump his leftovers in the latrine than give us a single bite... Taking some of their leftovers, can that be called stealing?" The little guy argued vehemently. If you ignored the bump on his head from being beaten, it did seem somewhat convincing. As he spoke, he pulled out two short bamboo poles, bent over, and straightened Chen Ping's injured leg. Then he pulled out a rope he'd found somewhere, used the bamboo poles to tie up the injured leg. "You can do this too?" "I can do a lot more." The little guy smiled, his face so covered in graffiti that his features were obscured, yet he gave off a sunny and cheerful vibe. Left-handed, he forcefully averted his gaze from the chicken leg and steamed bun, making conversation: "You're the one who picked up Hua Lian'er. I thought he was going to die those days, but he came back to life. You were willing to go hungry yourself just to share a bite with him. So, don't feel bad about it. Eat what you need to eat, and live one more day at a time." He was now certain that while Hua Lian'er was out gathering food... due to his injury, exposure to the cold, and perhaps a fever, his brain had been completely damaged, and he remembered nothing. Chen Ping nodded, smelling the aroma of the chicken leg and steamed bun. His stomach felt like seventeen or eighteen tiny hands were reaching out, tugging and tearing at him—the taste was indescribable… His eyes were starting to bloodshot, and he just wanted to swallow the food in his hand whole. Those who haven't been starving will never understand this feeling. Just as he was about to put the chicken leg to his mouth, a gust of wind blew behind his ear. Chen Ping reflexively tilted his head slightly and moved aside. *Thud…* Half a brick slammed to the ground, and a dirty hand swept past beneath the chicken leg. Turning around abruptly, he saw Da Sha's crooked face. He'd actually fired a gun. Wasn't he supposed to be a comrade? "Ah..." A scream rang in her ears, and Hua Lian'er sprang up like a wildcat, her hands flying out to scratch Da Sha's big face: "I'll let you steal, I'll let you steal, and you even hit me, Da Sha, do you want to die?" Da Sha looked bigger, but his movements were a bit clumsy, and he couldn't stop those scratching hands at all. Several deep bloody marks quickly appeared on his face... He didn't have time to fight back, so he quickly squatted down on the ground, covered his head with his hands, and whimpered: "I'm hungry, I'm hungry." "You're hungry, so you hit me? And you steal things? Why don't you go out and rob pedestrians on the street? Are you really stupid or just pretending?" Hua Lian'er stopped and cursed angrily, panting, but didn't continue attacking. "They all have to die, they all have to die!" Big Fool roared like a wounded wild dog, his eyes bloodshot, seeing that Flower Face had stopped attacking. "Boss Yan said that if we can't get any money, it's because we're useless. We might as well break our arms and legs and throw us into the street to beg. None of us will survive!" A cold wind blew by, chilling to the bone, and rain mixed with snowflakes fell obliquely. The group felt cold inside and lost the will to speak. Of course, Big Fool wasn't really stupid. He could steal food, he could fight, and he would even make excuses for his bad deeds. If anyone said he was stupid, it was he who was truly stupid. Left-handed, his face expressionless, slowly walked into the earth god temple. The sky was almost dark, and the north wind outside the temple was biting. It was still very cold in early spring. The group didn't have a fire to warm themselves because they had no firewood... But at least inside the temple, there was a roof over their heads to shelter them, and they could find a dry place to take a nap. That was already very good. Flower Face had also lost his spirit and helped Chen Ping into the temple, finding a place to rest under a half-collapsed incense table. This place is sheltered from the wind and rain, a perfect spot to sleep. He wondered why those other people didn't come and take it. The rain gradually stopped, the dark clouds dispersed, and the last ray of sunlight shone through the broken tiles, making the temple even darker. "Can't we escape?" Chen Ping wasn't worried about himself, but rather puzzled. From his earlier observations, he realized that they were likely a group of beggars being controlled. Breaking their limbs, creating artificially created pitiful figures, exploiting the sympathy of passersby to beg for money… this kind of behavior, not only in ancient times, but even in later generations, was still occasionally seen. In times of war and chaos, it was commonplace. So, if they couldn't survive here, why not move to another place? "There's no escape. There's a sliver of hope within the city, but outside it's a dead end. Bandits roam freely, refugees are like ghosts, and wild beasts attack people..." Painted Face's voice was low, his tone slightly nasal. "Besides, Qilin Street is the territory of the Qingzi Xiangtang under the Seven Colors Hall. Many people are watching the street. We won't get far before we're discovered. Although Boss Yan is vicious and cruel, he wouldn't kill his beggar subordinates for no reason . Perhaps he'll take pity on us and give us a way out." "What way out? That day you forgot to paint your face, and Boss Yan even said he'd sell you to a nobleman for his enjoyment! If it weren't for your crippled brother risking his life to protect you, you'd be dead." Left-Handed said coldly, his eyes full of mockery. "However, it's true there's no escaping. All thirteen streets in the South City are Seven Colors Hall's territory. If we go out and get caught, it's certain death. Even if we leave the South Thirteen Streets and go to the North City, the Long River Gang isn't easy to deal with either; there's nowhere to stay." "So be it! I absolutely refuse to have my limbs broken and become someone else's money-making tool like a dog!" Da Sha suddenly shouted, and under the dim moonlight, rushed out of the temple gate. He wasn't stupid at all; he still wanted to escape. As it turned out, wishful thinking was a bad idea. Even though they were just a few stinking beggars, someone was still watching them. Just as Da Sha rushed out of the temple gate, a dark shadow flashed at the entrance, and a large foot kicked him heavily in the chest. "Crack!" Da Sha was lifted off the ground, flying several feet backward, and crashed heavily into a pillar inside the temple. Broken tiles and dust fell everywhere, and the wooden pillar tilted. Torches lit up... and in their light, one could see Da Sha's crooked mouth, making it appear even more distorted, as he groaned in agony, blood trickling from his lips. His chest had completely caved in, demonstrating the incredible strength of the newcomer's legs; a casual kick could kill. "Boss Yan!" Seeing the burly man with a face full of scars stride in, Hua Lian'er recognized him immediately.