Chapter Sixteen: A Twitch in the Left Eye Brings Fortune, a Twitch in the Right Eye Brings Misfortune!

Bloodhand Society.

This was a mid-sized predator organization.

Predator groups could be as small as thirty or forty, or as large as several hundred members. They were infamous for their stealth and ruthlessness, the kind of nightmare and malignant tumor despised by every human settlement on Blue Star.

Bloodhand Society counted fewer than two hundred members, all gathered under the leadership of a man known as Bloodhand. Rumor had it he was once an assassin, making a living through ventures that required little capital. Eventually, he realized that killing people alone was too slow, so he began recruiting members—each to take a swing for him—and thus the Bloodhand Society came into being.

When Bloodhand woke up this morning, his right eyelid wouldn't stop twitching. There was an old saying on the Old Earth: "Left eyelid means wealth, right means disaster."

"Could something bad befall me today?"

Bloodhand muttered to himself.

Impossible, he thought. His organization wasn't big enough to warrant the attention and purge of the Flame Shrine. Apart from the Shrine—his nemesis—the society got along reasonably well with other predator groups; they minded their own business, kept to their own turf.

His robbery endeavors were flourishing; in such a harsh environment, he and most of his brothers could still wear gold, eat meat, drink wine—their days were quite comfortable.

The only trouble of late was a squad that had gone out on a mission and hadn't returned. Aside from that, life was smooth.

"What disaster could it be?"

"Maybe I'm overthinking it?"

But the instincts of an assassin told him it wouldn't be so simple.

Sure enough, a subordinate burst in through the door and shouted, "Boss, bad news! The people from Flame Shrine have us surrounded!"

They were usually the ones silently laying traps for others; to be surrounded themselves by the Shrine was a bitter feeling.

But this was the Flame Shrine.

Apologize! No matter the reason, the Bloodhand Society would first kneel and beg for mercy.

Bloodhand slapped his subordinate across the face and roared, "What's all the fuss? Is there anything we can't settle?"

The man spun around twice from the blow, clutching his face. "Boss, a lot of Flame Shrine people showed up. Our brothers at home are already clashing with them... The Deputy asked me to fetch you right away to take charge..."

Bloodhand's expression grew grave. "Who from the Shrine? Bian Zhenxin? We get along well with Bian Zhenxin... I even gave him some of the best women I've had, and plenty of gold and silver... Did he bring men to surround us?"

"It’s not Divine Envoy Bian. Leading them is a white-robed man; it’s the Flame Guard that’s surrounding us."

"..."

Bloodhand began to feel a headache coming on.

"The white robe himself? Did they say why?"

"They're demanding we hand over someone."

"Who?"

"They said a black robe was killed—by our people... They want us to surrender the culprit, or they'll purge the Bloodhand Society." The subordinate looked terrified.

They feared nothing—committing murder and robbery was second nature—but they knew all too well what the Flame Shrine was capable of.

They didn’t believe in gods, but they feared those who represented them.

"Their man was killed—what does that have to do with us?" Bloodhand fumed, but then his expression quickly turned to panic. "Did you say a black robe was killed?"

"Yes, that's what they said."

"The black robe in Henshan District is Bian Zhenxin... Bian Zhenxin is dead?"

"They didn't mention a name..."

"The times are changing," Bloodhand muttered. "Everything’s changing... If this is handled badly, Henshan District will become a slaughterhouse..."

He paused, then gritted his teeth. "Bring out the chest of luminous pearls I’ve been hoarding... And the batch of fine goods we seized last time—bring it all out."

"Boss!" The subordinate was shocked—this was the boss's accumulated fortune over many years, and now he’d hand it all over?

"Spending money to avert disaster," Bloodhand replied through gritted teeth, pained at the loss. "If the Flame Guard is here, we have to buy their favor if we want to keep our lives. If we wait for them to take it by force, we’ll lose both men and treasure."

Bloodhand had dealt with the Shrine enough to know their greed and savagery.

They were the true predators, while he and his men were more like the Flame God's disciples.

When Bloodhand and his men stepped outside, the sight of the densely packed gray-robed soldiers startled him.

The gray robes were numerous, but they were a disorganized rabble. In a real fight, it was hard to say who would win or lose. He didn’t take them seriously.

What mattered was the nearly hundred Flame Guards clustered around the white-robed elder. Those were the ones he truly feared.

Their weapons and gear were uniform, all wielding spears ideal for a charge. Over a dozen even had firearms—an extreme rarity after the Great Cataclysm.

Bloodhand Society had a few pistols, but compared to these, they were nothing. Worse yet, they lacked bullets—a gun with three or five rounds was already a luxury. Having a full box of ammo was simply a dream.

After all, they could hardly announce their intent to rob someone’s gun in advance and ask them to bring extra bullets...

That would be absurd!

Bloodhand moved through the crowd, heading straight to the white-robed Divine Envoy, bowing deeply in respect.

Only then did he look up at Bian Feng and, with anxious humility, say, "Divine Envoy, your presence honors our humble abode. May I ask what brings you here? If you require anything, just say the word."

Bian Feng’s gaze was icy as he stared at Bloodhand. In his eyes, the man was already a corpse.

Chen Hu tossed a skull-shaped lighter at Bloodhand’s feet and asked in a low voice, "Do you recognize this lighter?"

Bloodhand glanced at the lighter and was about to deny it, but the cold, emotionless look in the white-robed elder’s eyes made him decide to tell the truth.

"I have seen this lighter... It belongs to one of our local captains. I saw it when he lit my cigarette...," Bloodhand explained, closely watching the elder’s expression. "May I ask how it came into your hands?"

"Where is this captain? Bring him out," Chen Hu demanded.

The Divine Envoy did not wish to speak, so Chen Hu handled matters for him.

Bloodhand realized the trouble must have started with Scarface and his crew. He cursed them silently, vowing to slit Scarface’s throat himself if the man ever returned. Anyone dragging him and the Society into danger deserved death.

But for now, he had to play humble and explained, "My lord, it’s not that I won’t hand him over—it’s just that they went out on a mission and haven’t returned yet..."

With a metallic ring, Chen Hu drew his broadsword and shouted, "Do you take us for children? Such a flimsy excuse and you expect us to believe it?"

"You mean to shield him?" the white-robed elder finally spoke, his first words since arriving.

His voice was soft and gentle, lacking any strength, but Bloodhand felt a chilling terror bristle through his body.

He looked at the elder with grave sincerity and declared, "Divine Envoy, I have no intention of protecting him. I do not wish to make enemies of the Flame Shrine, nor do I wish to incur your wrath. If he were here, I’d have bound him and handed him over myself."

Bloodhand gestured, and four of his men brought out four large chests, placing them at the elder’s feet.

"You have come from afar, Divine Envoy—we have little to offer. These are trinkets I have collected over the years; I hope you will accept them."

The white-robed elder didn’t spare the chests a glance; his gaze remained calm and deep as he looked at Bloodhand and spoke steadily, "The black-robed envoy of the Flame Shrine at Henshan District is dead. One black robe isn’t important—we have many black robes, one for every human settlement..."

"But the one who died happens to be my son—the only son I have... So, do you understand how I feel?"

"I understand. I understand," Bloodhand replied, cold sweat streaming down his back as he nodded desperately.

"No, you don’t," the elder shook his head with a sigh. "If you did, you wouldn’t try to buy safety from a father who just lost his son."

"Divine Envoy..."

Bloodhand was bewildered by the elder’s logic.

I’m giving you money as a sign of respect, not because I did this!

We mind our own business daily, robbing and killing, but never sought to offend the noble Flame Shrine, let alone assassinate a black robe. That would be madness.

And madness means death.

Bian Feng raised his hand and said, "If I do not see the owner of this lighter in three breaths, not a single person in Bloodhand Society will survive."

"Divine Envoy, he truly hasn’t returned... My brothers are searching for him as well. If you don’t believe me, send your men to look..."

"Three..."

"Divine Envoy, we are wronged! You know the nature of predators... I’ve brought out everything I’ve saved for years... How could I sacrifice so much for a mere captain?"

Predators were ruthless—ruthless enough to curse even themselves in desperate moments.

You know we’re not good men. How could a heartless beast like me make such a sacrifice for one underling?

Divine Envoy, think carefully—a man as inhuman as I am, how could I possibly be so righteous?

I am truly innocent!

"Two..."

"Divine Envoy, I am friends with Divine Envoy Bian—a friend of many years... We often drink and play games together... If you don’t believe me, ask Divine Envoy Bian; he’ll vouch for me..."

The white-robed envoy’s finger pressed down faster, and he spoke: "One..."

The Flame Shrine stood for light, for justice. But for a black robe to be close friends with a notorious predator chief—the rumor alone would ruin their reputations.

"Kill!"

Chen Hu understood his chief’s will instantly. With a furious shout, he swung his broadsword straight at Bloodhand.