Chapter Twenty-Four: Foolishness!

As Phoenix and Windless began their confrontation, Tang Fei, Chubby, and the Old Man faced off against Shadow. Shadow stood at the entrance to the small courtyard, his voice as cold as the mask upon his face. “You’re all clever people. There’s no need to struggle pointlessly. The ending won’t change, no matter what you do.”

Tang Fei positioned himself protectively before Chubby and the Old Man, smiling amiably. “Do you know the first rule of a hunter?”

Shadow was intrigued by this question, for he, too, was a hunter—though Tang Fei hunted beasts, while Shadow hunted men.

Tang Fei answered, “Never let yourself become the prey.”

Shadow’s eyes darkened, immediately understanding the implication. Why else would Tang Fei still dare speak so boldly at such a time?

Chubby, growing impatient, hefted his hammer and charged forward, calling out, “Brother, why waste words? I’ll smash him flat.”

The ground thundered as Chubby moved, like a mountain in motion. Shadow looked on with disdain. The backward thinking of these wasteland drifters was almost laughable. They hadn’t the faintest notion of the monumental changes that had swept Newstar.

New immigrants not only pursued technological excellence but also sought individual strength. DNA screening, ancient cultivation manuals, gene serums—all these combined and fused, giving rise to one super-warrior after another. Some powerful factions and old families even managed to acquire the blood of exotic beasts, or seeds of divine creatures.

On Newstar, there were those who could cleave armor with a single stroke, or freeze the stars with their swordplay. And yet, what did these people of the old earth possess? Wildflowers and mutated beasts? They had no concept of the vast gulf between the ordinary and the initiated.

To Shadow, Chubby’s actions were like a mantis trying to stop a cart, or an ant attempting to carry an elephant—utterly futile.

“Overestimating yourself,” Shadow muttered. He was a man of few words, but even fewer doubts about his own superiority. Seeing Chubby swing the hammer down, Shadow drew his longsword to block. In his eyes, that hammer was nothing but a child’s toy—fit for whacking virtual moles, nothing more.

Clang!

Steel clashed, sparks flew. Shadow felt a surge of force crash down his blade, sweeping through his body. He staggered backward, his arm going numb and heavy. Staring in disbelief at the pudgy youth before him, he wondered—had raw strength alone just driven him back? Just how powerful was that strike? Eight hundred kilos? A thousand?

Chubby, unbothered by his failed attempt, raised the hammer again. If one blow wasn’t enough, he’d simply strike again.

Shadow met the attack with his sword—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Strike after strike forced him further back, until he found himself pressed against the courtyard gate. He realized now that this youth was born with brute strength, not someone to face head-on.

Anger flared in Shadow’s chest. Kindness invites exploitation, as the saying goes. For a renowned assassin like him to be so thoroughly outmatched by some obscure fat youth from the old earth—if word got out, his reputation would be in ruins.

Seeing Chubby ready his hammer yet again, relentless as ever, Shadow finally retaliated. With a flick of his wrist, his longsword split into a flurry of afterimages.

Chubby’s eyes widened, unable to discern which was the true blade. In the next instant, Shadow’s sword slashed—the hammer’s wooden handle snapped in two.

Chubby stared in bewilderment at the broken handle in his grip.

Never miss an opportunity. Shadow pressed his advantage, vanishing into the darkness so swiftly he left no trace—true to his name. The first thing Chubby saw was the jet-black sword, its tip flashing like lightning, thrusting straight for his heart.

So fast—unbelievably fast.

Chubby was frozen, incapable of reacting.

He was about to die.

Clang!

A dagger flew in, striking the sword’s tip aside. Chubby felt a boot in his side and rolled away, tumbling to the ground. His hands instinctively found his belly—it was round and warm.

“I’m still alive?”

After booting Chubby clear, Tang Fei caught the returning machete midair.

Shadow materialized in the darkness, staring at the trembling tip of his sword in shock. “An Initiate?”

“Nothing of the sort—I’m just a hunter,” Tang Fei replied with a grin.

“No, you are an Initiate,” Shadow insisted. “That move just now—was it Qi Manipulation?”

“Just a well-thrown knife,” Tang Fei denied.

“No, you are an Initiate. I sensed the interplay of Yin and Yang in your strike…”

Shadow couldn’t fathom how an Initiate could emerge from this forsaken land, let alone one who had reached the Qi Manipulation stage—a rarity among rarities.

“Whatever you say,” Tang Fei replied. Though inexperienced in romance, he was a natural at evasive banter.

Shadow bristled—his reaction just like every woman who’d ever heard those words.

Pointing his sword at Tang Fei, Shadow declared, “Now, you are my opponent. I want to see just how strong you are.”

“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance,” Tang Fei replied. “Come, let’s settle this like men—to the death.”

“Agreed.” Shadow accepted without hesitation. Though an assassin, he relished the chance to test himself against this cunning wastelander.

He was eager to see which would prove superior—his sword or Tang Fei’s dagger.

With the challenge set, Tang Fei charged forward, machete in hand. Shadow, facing a master of Qi Manipulation, summoned all his skill for the confrontation.

Whoosh!

An arrow whistled through the air, burying itself in Shadow’s throat.

“Foolish…” Shadow’s smile froze. He was clad in a full suit of nano-armor, impervious to blades and arrows, and even high-caliber bullets struggled to dent it. At most, the arrow might bruise his neck…

But then, what was happening?

His hand went to his throat and came away slick with thick, viscous fluid—and, impossibly, the short arrow was still lodged in his neck.

The Old Man, cradling a jet-black crossbow, sneered, “Let’s see if my bolts can’t kill a man.”

Thud.

Shadow, face contorted with unwillingness, staggered two steps forward before collapsing to the ground.

Tang Fei, mid-charge, skidded to a halt and approached cautiously, probing the body and feeling the chest. Only when satisfied that Shadow was well and truly dead did he beam at the Old Man. “What do you think? My feint wasn’t half bad, was it?”

“And my muddying of the waters was perfectly timed,” the Old Man retorted.

“If I hadn’t drawn his focus by revealing my strength, you’d never have gotten your shot.”

“If my aim had been off, you’d be looking like a pig’s head now.”

“If we hadn’t fought, who’d know the outcome?”

“Is fighting even necessary? I know your every move.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, then—how strong am I?”

The two, who moments before had worked in perfect harmony, now glared at each other in mutual disdain before turning away.

Tang Fei helped Chubby to his feet, brushing the dust from his backside. “You know your limits—why rush in every time? What if you’d been hurt just now? Do you realize how dangerous that sword strike was?”

“I know,” Chubby replied with a sheepish grin, letting Tang Fei scold him.

“Then why do it? Are you stupid?”

“No, brother. I know you’re stronger than me, but I’ve got brute strength. We don’t know how tough these newcomers are, so…”

“So you wanted to test them by taking point, hammer in hand?”

Chubby nodded shyly. “I thought maybe I could finish him off… Didn’t work out.”

Tang Fei clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t do that again—it’s too risky. Have you forgotten the family rules?”

“I remember, brother.”

“Let’s hear them.”

‘Fight if you can win, run if you can’t.’

“Exactly—adapt and be flexible. Didn’t you see how well your brother and I worked together? Flawless, I’d say.”

The Old Man strutted over with his crossbow, full of pride. “Even if a small master showed up, the two of us could take him down.”

“I’m not smart enough for that,” Chubby admitted honestly.

The Old Man sighed, ruffling Chubby’s hair. “That’s true enough.” Then, with a look of distaste, he wiped his hand on Chubby’s shirt. “You really ought to wash your hair—greasier than the roast I just ate…”

Chubby grinned. “I’ll wait till Brother’s washed—then I’ll go.”

“Blockhead,” the Old Man grumbled.

Phoenix, having just finished off Windless, approached, her gaze sweeping over Tang Fei, the Old Man, and even Chubby. Indeed, there were no innocents left on the old earth.

“Phoenix, ma’am…” Chubby greeted her with a nervous smile.

The Old Man tugged at Chubby’s sleeve. “Are you full yet?”

Chubby considered. “About eighty percent.”

“Let’s eat, then. You need your strength for a fight.”

“Another fight?” Chubby was alarmed—he hated being interrupted while eating.

“You never know who’ll come for us next. Better safe than sorry,” the Old Man replied.

Chubby nodded, seeing the sense in it. If they had nothing better to do, they might as well eat.

Phoenix locked eyes with Tang Fei, her voice low and cool. “Mr. Tang Fei, aren’t you going to give me an explanation?”