Chapter Eleven: Effeminate!

This was a one-sided massacre!

The slaughterers had become the slaughtered, felled like cattle and sheep. The tree that Little Fatty had been clutching was snapped in two from his force; now, with bare hands, he needed no technique—one punch sent those gray-robed men flying, their spines shattered, faces unrecognizable.

In Tang Fei’s hand, the dog-leg knife moved with a rhythm and spirit; each swing either sliced an enemy’s throat or stabbed out their eyes, always seeking the vital points. This was a battlefield of life and death, where mercy and hesitation had no place.

The fighting was brutal, yet brief. Once Tang Fei and Phoenix joined the fray, the tide turned swiftly. With the black-robed priest dead, the gray-robed followers became nothing but a rabble.

They had relied on the reputation of the Flame Temple and their numbers, always prevailing, almost never defeated. No one dared provoke them: kill one, and a crowd would come; kill a crowd, and a tide of Flame Temple believers would surge forth.

But today, Tang Fei, Phoenix, and Little Fatty were determined to leave no witnesses. Each struck with lethal intent, eliminating the gray-robed followers without exception.

When all twenty-some followers lay collapsed, unable to struggle or resist, Tang Fei went over them again, uneasy. Those not yet dead received a blade to the throat. Those already dead received another. Even those whose bodies Phoenix had cleaved in two with a whip were not spared; who could be sure their upper halves weren’t still alive?

First, to confirm their deaths; second, so even if they survived, they’d be unable to speak. As for writing… unlikely—most in the ruins were illiterate.

Culture and knowledge were useless, and there were no avenues for learning. Most believed in the supremacy of strength; from youth, they honed their bodies or hunted beasts.

To survive, to eat, fists spoke louder than words.

Of course, if they truly encountered someone who, in these circumstances, survived and could write… Tang Fei would simply accept his bad luck, pack up, and flee.

If he couldn’t stay here, there would be another place for him.

After Tang Fei checked everyone, Little Fatty checked again. Only then did they relax.

Phoenix watched coldly nearby, once again gaining a clearer understanding of the way of life among the refugees—no, benefactors—on these ruins.

Everyone lived with extreme caution.

“I’m sorry, I’ve brought you trouble,” Phoenix stepped up to Tang Fei and apologized.

She didn’t want to be so beautiful, but some things… heaven rarely grants wishes.

She knew this trouble stemmed from herself. If she were uglier, wore rougher clothes, the Flame Temple would not have noticed her, perhaps not even seen her.

It was her radiance that drew Tang Fei and Little Fatty into peril.

She knew what kind of organization the Flame Temple was. She’d heard of their infamy from Tang Fei and Little Fatty many times, and what they had just attempted to do to her confirmed every word…

If not for Tang Fei and Little Fatty’s help, she could have killed them all with her own strength.

But then what?

Escape? To where?

Her escape pod and communication devices were badly damaged—no way to locate, no way to contact. How could she return to New Star? How could her family know her whereabouts?

And this was Old Earth, with strange beasts and endless traps, and enemies wanting to keep her here forever…

Every step was fraught with danger.

Tang Fei looked Phoenix up and down; seeing the phoenix-handled whip in her hand, his eyes grew hot. He said, “Go change your clothes… smear some ash on your face… all over, in fact. You’re too pale, too dazzling. You don’t look like someone from Old Earth…”

“Alright,” Phoenix agreed readily.

She had considered this too. She needed to hide herself, blend in with this desolate land.

How pitiful, that once glorious and fertile earth had fallen to such a state, despised by all.

When greed and evil technology joined hands, they gave birth to the machine called war.

“Bro, what now?” Little Fatty’s round face was flushed, his clothes soaked with blood.

His attacks were raw and direct; lacking the agility of Tang Fei and Phoenix, the blood splatter was impossible to avoid.

Tang Fei and Phoenix had killed more—especially Phoenix, who dispatched foes with a single whip, never pausing—yet not a drop of blood stained her, not even a crease in her tight outfit.

Oh, maybe a little on her chest…

Wait, it was gone.

How amusing!

Tang Fei’s expression was grim. Perhaps Phoenix didn’t realize the gravity of the situation, but he and Little Fatty, as natives, did.

The black robe was a third-level priest of the Flame Temple, practically a lord of the Hate Mountain settlement.

They’d killed a black robe and over twenty gray robes—a major event within the Flame Temple. Once their people investigated and traced the trail, what awaited them would be a bloody slaughter.

That would be true massacre.

Not just the three of them—the entire village would likely be purged.

Such was the Flame Temple’s way. They’d rather kill by mistake than let a single survivor slip through.

In their words, Tang Fei’s actions were blasphemy, an unforgivable crime.

These deaths meant nothing to them; whether blasphemous or not was irrelevant.

Simply put, Tang Fei’s actions challenged the Temple’s authority. If they didn’t repay blood with blood, how could they control such a vast organization? How could they intimidate the world in the name of the Flame God?

Tang Fei had to sever all ties to this incident, must not become the “melon” they’d track down.

He rummaged in his pocket, found a lighter with a skull on it, face twisted with pain, but resolutely tossed it into a nearby thicket.

“Let’s go home,” Tang Fei said.

Little Fatty, bare-chested, hoisted a red-eyed rabbit over a meter tall and walked ahead, his face brimming with pride, eager for the whole village to see his trophy.

Tang Fei and Phoenix followed. Seeing Phoenix hesitating to speak, Tang Fei said, “If you want to say something, just say it… From now on, we’re truly on the same side.”

Having killed so many from the Flame Temple, if the Temple came for them, Tang Fei, Little Fatty, and even the old man who knew nothing, would die, Phoenix too.

No wonder people said, to forge a close bond, do something bad together or share a secret.

Before, Tang Fei was the employer, Phoenix the hired hand—their partnership was unequal, subject to Tang Fei’s whim.

Tang Fei could be forceful!

But not anymore…

If Phoenix went to the street and shouted, “Tang Fei killed the Flame Temple people…”

Unless she was insane—or her mind truly broke—then they’d all be doomed.

Because of their actions, Tang Fei had handed the initiative to this woman.

It made him uncomfortable.

But he didn’t regret it. In those circumstances, not acting would have led to the same outcome…

Whether Phoenix killed them or he did, what difference did it make? People had seen them enter the mountains together.

They worked together, acted swiftly, and now could plan their escape.

Protecting Phoenix was protecting himself.

“Why did you stop me from acting just now?”

“You mean at the forest’s edge?” Tang Fei asked. “We were too close to the village. If someone saw us… would we have to kill innocent witnesses? Killing would weigh on our conscience, not killing would be too risky…”

“So I wanted you to hold back… lure them deeper into the forest to deal with them… It’s safer that way…”

“So you’d rather get beaten with Little Fatty…”

Tang Fei squinted and smiled at Phoenix. “What, are you touched?”

Phoenix’s heart skipped, embarrassed as if her secret was exposed. She hurriedly denied, “No, I’m not.”

Tang Fei caught a glimpse of her girlish charm and was momentarily dazzled, his heart racing.

He didn’t know what this feeling was, but he disliked it.

It gave him a sense of losing control, of losing himself.

So he wiped the smile from his face and said to Phoenix, “Speak properly… don’t be so girly.”

“…”