In her whole life, Gu Xiang had never had such a handicap while committing murder—occupied by a suicide warrior, Cao Weining, with his guard down, let another warrior circle past him and pounce at Zhang Chengling. Under duress, Cao Weining grabbed Zhang Chengling and flung him at Gu Xiang. With an “aiyo”, Gu Xiang caught him, but that was still a person that weighed about a hundred and ten pounds regardless; the momentum knocked her three, four steps askew, and it took her some effort to steady herself. At the same time, she stabbed to death a Poisonous Scorpion who had nearly caught her hair on his hook, and a concealed weapon sprung out from the tip of her shoe into the stomach of another Poisonous Scorpion. The latter didn’t die instantly, still persistent; with another supplementary stab from her, he finally went to meet the god of death.

The glare of the blades and the flash of swords whizzed over Zhang Chengling’s head and past his ears; every once in a while, he would suspect that some body part of his had been sliced off, and had to extend a hand to feel if it was still there, and then he had to suffer Gu Xiang and Cao Weining throwing him around like a gunny sack. Whirling through the air, he was dizzy beyond measure.

By the time there was a temporary halt to the chaotic skirmish, the hem of Gu Xiang’s trousers had already been dyed red by the blood of her opponents, and she had taken a hook to the waist. Fortunately, she had dodged quickly enough, otherwise the little beauty would have become two halves of a little beauty. Her pretty face had lost all colour, and Cao Weining, extremely dishevelled, was no better off.

It was as if they were the only three living creatures left in this place.

Gu Xiang ordered decisively, “Leave now! Otherwise there’ll be more trouble, quick!”

Cao Weining and Zhang Chengling looked at each other. Though the trouble had passed, they shuddered to think of what they had just experienced, and made to leave with her. At this moment, a moan came from the corner of the wall; Zhang Chengling turned his head to see that old beggar crawling out of the pile of corpses, who had nearly pissed his pants from fright. The chipped bowl containing the copper coins crashed to the floor, the coins scattering, soaking in blood. The old beggar could not even stand, his voice changed in pitch as he croaked, trembling, “M-murder!”

Cao Weining was, after all, from an influential, orthodox sect, and had been educated in the four cardinal virtues since he was a child. At present, he frowned, feeling that it was terrible of them to have caused this elderly person trouble due to their moment of negligence. So he went up to ask, “Senior, are you injured?”