Vol. 2 - Ch. 44 - Disaster Relief Silver!
Raising Orphans, Not AssassinsThis chapter is broken. Please report this on discord.
Notes
Yuyu: That was… unexpected… But very welcome. I can see DM future as a General.
This chapter is broken. Please report this on discord.
Yuyu: That was… unexpected… But very welcome. I can see DM future as a General.
BOOM!
A streak of lightning tore across the sky.
At the same time, Da Ming lunged forward like a ferocious beast, swinging his massive axe downward.
“Pfft…” A faint, almost inaudible sound broke out.
In front of Da Ming, a martial artist raised his long blade with both hands — one gripping the hilt, the other supporting the spine — face grim with concentration, bracing for impact.
Whoooosh…
Wind, laced with rain, swept through the mountainside.
The next second—
Everyone was frozen by a chilling sight.
The martial artist, still in a defensive stance with his blade raised… slowly leaned backward, toppling over.
As he fell, his body slid apart.
Split clean in two.
Along with the long blade he had been gripping.
Blood gushed out like a geyser, and warm, slippery organs spilled to the muddy ground.
The surrounding fighters stood in stunned silence.
They stared in dumb disbelief at the towering figure and the massive axe in his hand.
In that moment, the encircling fighters felt a cold chill crawl through their limbs.
They had killed before. Every one of them had blood on their hands.
But this—this was different.
Terrifyingly different.
Just one strike.
One swing — and a third-rank martial artist was cleaved clean in half!
Gulp…
Someone swallowed hard, breaking the deathly silence.
Da Ming stood there, panting, eyes bloodshot, glaring at everyone with crimson pupils.
The moment his gaze swept over them, the remaining fighters all stepped back in unison, fear written across their faces.
Da Ming said nothing, gripping the Qilin Axe in one hand.
Despite just taking a man’s life, the axe blade was clean—no trace of blood.
Silence fell over the ridgeline.
Only the steady patter of rain could be heard.
Xiong Shan stared at Da Ming, his whole body trembling.
His breath came in sharp bursts, eyes locked on Da Ming like he’d just discovered a priceless treasure.
For a moment, Xiong Shan seemed to see the boy’s future—mounted on horseback, clad in iron armor, swinging that mighty axe to shatter enemy lines.
Right then, Xiong Shan’s desire to recruit Da Ming surged again.
With strength like that, how could he be just a woodcutter?
His eyes blazed with a renewed determination.
Rustle…
Light footsteps approached.
The second-rank martial artist stepped forward, stopping near Da Ming and Xiong Shan.
He had seen the whole scene — Da Ming splitting the third-rank fighter in one blow.
“No martial foundation, yet with raw strength alone, you killed a third-rank in one move.”
“Impressive… a true natural-born powerhouse.”
He looked Da Ming over with clear interest.
More precisely, he eyed the Qilin Axe in Da Ming’s hand.
“That weapon… in your hands… what a waste of a gem in the dirt.”
His tone was flat, even scornful.
Then he moved.
In a blink, he was at Da Ming’s side.
With a flick of his right hand, a dagger slipped from his sleeve — its tip gleaming coldly — and struck toward Da Ming’s neck like a flash of lightning.
Da Ming instinctively swung the Qilin Axe.
The axe whistled through the air, sweeping toward the attacker’s midsection.
His eyes glowed crimson — fearless, furious.
Just before the dagger struck, Da Ming twisted his body hard.
Whiff!
The dagger stabbed into empty space.
The second-rank martial artist’s eyes widened in surprise.
But there was no time to react — he backflipped desperately, retreating.
The icy axe blade grazed past his side.
Before he could catch his breath—
Da Ming grabbed the axe handle with both hands and struck again with full force.
Whooosh!
The air split under the weight of the blade.
It turned midair, slicing back toward him like death incarnate.
The enormous axe locked onto its target like a predator.
The second-rank martial artist froze in place. His hair stood on end. His eyes flooded with panic.
He had no idea why, but he was certain: no matter where he moved, he couldn’t dodge this blow.
It would hit.
It had to.
As he hesitated—
“Pfft!”
The blade cut through him.
The man’s eyes widened, filled with disbelief.
Then—
From his left shoulder to right hip, a clean, diagonal line appeared.
Blood sprayed, soaring several feet high.
Thud!
His body fell in two halves to the muddy ridge.
Cold rain washed over his still-warm face.
His eyes remained wide open, unwilling to close even in death.
He never expected it to end this quickly.
The nearby third-rank martial artists watched their leader die, and their pupils shrank in terror. They couldn’t stop their bodies from trembling.
Da Ming stood there like a beast, red-eyed and grim, muscles bulging with unspent fury.
Wherever his gaze landed, heads dropped, no one dared meet his eyes.
It was as if the person before them wasn’t a man…
But a bloodthirsty tiger.
Whooosh…
Da Ming raised the axe again and charged at the others.
The sight of the gleaming blade killed any will to resist.
The third-rank fighters scattered, scrambling down the mountainside like frightened rats.
Da Ming chased a few steps but couldn’t catch up — he lacked lightness techniques.
“Brother Ming!” Xiong Shan called out behind him.
Da Ming stopped.
He couldn’t keep up.
“Let them go, Ming. They’ve all had martial training,” Xiong Shan said, still clutching his iron staff.
He had truly thought they were both done for—but Da Ming had actually killed a second-rank with a single swing!
If the martial world caught wind of this, it’d cause a storm!
Twelve years old, and he killed a second-rank martial artist?!
No one would believe it.
Da Ming took a few deep breaths. The red in his eyes faded a little.
His rage slowly ebbed.
He returned to where he’d started, put the Qilin Axe back in its wooden box, and closed the lid gently.
His gaze landed on several gashes on the box.
His heart ached.
His eyes turned red again—this time from emotion.
The deep gouges were at least an inch deep.
Xiong Shan sighed. He could see it now.
That box… the axe… meant something to Da Ming.
He said a few comforting words and led Da Ming down the ridge and onto the mountain path.
Xiong Shan stared at the carts nearby, curiosity burning in his chest.
Why were these people moving cargo in such heavy rain?
And what were they transporting?
Unable to resist, he stepped up and opened one of the crates on a handcart.
Inside were neatly stacked silver ingots — each worth 100 taels.
He made a rough count — this one crate alone had around ten thousand taels.
He rushed to the other carts and opened each one.
Silver ingots. Gold bars. Banknotes.
All bore the same two characters:
Disaster Relief.
Dozens of meters away—
He Wu and Chen Er stood dumbfounded, still dazed by the image of Da Ming cleaving a second-rank martial artist in half.
Huang San’s expression turned serious. He looked deeply at Da Ming.
Then his face slowly relaxed into its usual lazy smirk.
He spat out the grass stem in his mouth, then patted He Wu and Chen Er on the shoulder.
“Let’s go. Time to finish the job.”
“Leave no loose ends.”