A Ming didn't know why he asked the girl this question. Perhaps it was just a whim, as casual as plucking a rapeseed flower during an outing.
Life needs a sense of ceremony and refinement. And "sense of ceremony" and "refinement," in simple terms, when you get down to their essence, just refer to "superfluous, burdensome nonsense." It's like having a bowl of chicken soup to prepare the stomach or a plate of appetizers before dinner.
Over there, the middle-aged man also saw A Ming talking with his daughter and immediately came over, fawning with a smile, bowing and saying, "Sir, do you want this girl? Eight taels of silver, and we can sign the contract right now; she'll be yours.
"After that, whether you want her to learn acrobatics and follow you to the Western Region, or simply take her as a concubine, it's entirely up to your preference."
This middle-aged man, just like the previous gatekeeper, assumed A Ming was from a Western Region acrobatic troupe upon seeing his attire. This was because a few years prior, when the Emperor of Yan State celebrated his thirtieth birthday after ascending the throne, an acclaimed acrobatic troupe from the Western Region had performed before the imperial court. They had made a name for themselves, and since then, such Western Region acrobatic troupes had become quite the sensation among the common folk.
A Ming nodded, reaching into his pocket.
Seeing this, the middle-aged man immediately rubbed his hands together excitedly.
However, when A Ming pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened it in front of the man, the middle-aged man was stunned.
His palm was empty.
"Sorry, I don't usually carry money," A Ming said.
His apology was sincere, as he displayed just the right amount of embarrassment and regret, seeming genuinely guilty for not being able to purchase the girl on the spot.
During his half-year stay at the inn, A Ming had mostly been responsible for brewing wine and rarely went out. Besides, in this world, once the issues of food and drink were resolved, a person with modern thinking and living habits really didn't have much need for spending money.
"No... no money? Are you fucking messing with me?" the middle-aged man yelled, pointing directly at A Ming's face.
A Ming nodded and replied earnestly, "Yes."
The middle-aged man paused for a moment, then rolled up his sleeves threateningly. "I think you're looking to die!"
For a gambler who would even sell his wife and daughter, to say he had much courage or integrity would be utterly ridiculous. However, he was capable of putting on a brave front and intimidating people like a casino thug.
Unfortunately for him, he picked the wrong target.
"Alright," A Ming said, reaching out and grabbing the man's throat.
Instantly, an icy chill spread from his neck, and the man forgot to resist. In that moment, he felt as if he'd been targeted by a terrifying, sinister beast.
"Hey, if you're going to fight, do it elsewhere! Don't dirty the entrance to our Hyena Gang!" the gatekeeper yelled, his arms crossed.
However, with a sharp CRACK! the gatekeeper froze.
He saw the neck of the man who had been trying to sell his daughter twisted at a horrific, unnatural angle, broken in the Western Region acrobat's hand.
Perhaps the middle-aged man hadn't even realized that this strangely dressed fellow before him was someone who would actually kill without a second thought. He was good at bluffing, but the person opposite him was a genuine killer—one who had specifically taken a mule-drawn cart, swaying leisurely on this rainy day, to come here and commit murder.
Blood began to trickle from the man's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
A Ming withdrew his hand. The middle-aged man collapsed to the ground with a THUD, his eyes wide open, already lifeless. As he fell, his face landed very close to his daughter's, who was also lying on the ground.
A flicker of fear first appeared in the girl's eyes, followed by a faint sorrow. But then, she bit her lip, opened her mouth, and began to laugh silently, heedless of the rainwater pouring into it.
A Ming turned his head, glancing at the girl's expression on the ground.
He found this image, this scene of the father and daughter now looking at each other, quite beautiful.
It was just a pity that cameras didn't exist in this era; there was no way to capture this moment for eternity, to preserve it to be cherished and slowly appreciated.
Truly a bit... regrettable.
After a few more glances, A Ming turned back, took a step, and walked up the stairs.
The appetizer was finished. Next was the main course.
The gatekeeper clearly hadn't fully recovered from the earlier shock. But when he saw A Ming walking towards him, he immediately turned, intending to duck into the courtyard first.
He was just a gatekeeper, a mere lackey on the fringes of the Hyena Gang. He was passable at bluffing by invoking the gang's authority, but if he truly had the guts and skill to go out and chop people up, he wouldn't have been relegated to guarding the gate.
However, just as one of his feet had barely crossed the threshold, a hand grabbed his shoulder.
So... so fast!
A Ming wasn't particularly fond of dealing with such small fry, especially those who lacked the courage to even attack him head-on. Killing them wouldn't bring him much satisfaction.
But it couldn't be helped; he had come today to kill.
His palm moved swiftly from the man's shoulder to the back of his head, and then he slammed it directly against the door panel.
THWACK!
It was like a watermelon smashing on the ground.
A Ming glanced at the red smear on his palm, instinctively wanting to bring it to his mouth, but then he shook his hand with disgust.
This taste... it's a bit hard to stomach.
It seems only the blood of those who glow has a sweet taste.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The gatekeeper who had gone inside to report earlier and an old man with white hair and a beard, looking like an accountant, were standing just behind the door. Upon witnessing the scene, the old accountant collapsed to the ground in terror, while the gatekeeper shrieked hysterically.
"MMMMPH!"
His cries didn't last long, however. A hand covered his mouth, and another appeared on his shoulder.
CRACK!
As if his head were a volleyball being spiked, the gatekeeper's face saw the scenery behind him for the first time in his life. He briefly experienced the superior feeling of no longer needing to worry about being ambushed while urinating.
This sense of superiority, however, did not last long; he collapsed to the ground.
Witnessing this, the old accountant trembled, his eyes rolled back, he foamed at the mouth, and fainted dead away.
A Ming paid no mind to whether the man had truly fainted from terror or was merely feigning death. The screams had clearly alerted the entire gang. From both sides of the courtyard, twenty to thirty men wielding an assortment of weapons rushed out.
One held a knife, another an axe, and still another wielded an iron rod.
A Ming's gaze swept over them one by one.
Finally, he smiled, because he saw a man with a sword.
Killing on a rainy day... it somehow seems more fitting with a sword.
A Ming felt he must have caught something from Blind Bei. Otherwise, why would he suddenly become so particular?
"Cut him down!"
A tall, sturdy man draped in animal skins, clearly the leader here, waved his hand and ordered his men.
The two corpses of the gatekeepers at the entrance had already made it clear: there was no longer any need for negotiation or pleasantries.
A Ming moved quickly, faster than that Zombie. Though his strength wasn't as great as the Zombie's, it still surpassed that of an ordinary person.
Thus, the first two gang members—one with a knife and the other with an axe—only saw a blur before A Ming was behind them. A Ming also differed from that Zombie in another respect: he cherished and protected his fingernails and disliked using them to kill.
So, a file appeared in A Ming's left hand, which he plunged into the temple of the axe-wielding gang member. Simultaneously, he grabbed the other gang member's arm, twisted it, and used the man's own knife to slit his throat, helping him end his wretched life.
Elegant, swift, and clean.
This was not slaughter;
this was A Ming's artistic performance.
He danced among the crowd;
blood was the flowers willingly offered to him by the audience;
screams were the cheers of an audience paying for this art.
However, after he dealt with these two, more gang members swarmed over, instantly compressing A Ming's space.
The scenarios in martial arts films, where a group surrounds someone yet still engages in one-on-one duels, are rarely seen in reality. When everyone swarms in together, even a general capable of fighting ten thousand foes would likely perish.
Fortunately, A Ming was different. At the cost of taking two slashes to his back, he broke out of the encirclement and charged straight for the man with the sword.
The man let out a low cry and thrust his sword at A Ming.
Disappointment flickered in A Ming's eyes; this one didn't glow.
His body tilted, but his left hand slid down the opponent's blade. Blood spurted from his fingertips, yet A Ming paid it no mind, continuing until he grabbed the man's wrist and forced it down.
The swordsman staggered. A Ming casually opened his mouth, revealing two sharp fangs. With a speed as swift and light as a dragonfly skimming water, yet as precise as a stapler, he left his mark on the man's neck.
THUD.
The swordsman fell, but the sword he had held was now in A Ming's grasp.
"I've finished playing my piece, and you're still not done."
Blind Bei's voice reached A Ming's ears. Blind Bei himself was still sitting on the mule cart outside, his erhu in hand.
The power of spiritual energy had eliminated the technical barriers to transmitting one's voice over a distance.
"I remember 'The Moon Over a Fountain' being quite long," A Ming replied in his mind.
"I've forgotten the rest of the score."
"Alright."
"You've picked up a sword?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to use it?"
"Just watch."
"Fine, then I'll play it again." Blind Bei felt he was making a significant compromise.
"Actually, don't force yourself. It's not like I'm that eager to listen."
"Relax. With the BGM I'm providing for you, no one can defeat you."
"Fine. You're blind, so you must be right."
After their brief mental exchange, the gang members charged forward once more. A Ming stood his ground, not dodging excessively as before, because he had told Blind Bei he would demonstrate his swordsmanship.
THUNK!
A gang member's saber slashed into A Ming's shoulder. His shoulder muscles contracted, clamping down on the blade, and the man couldn't pull his weapon free.
A Ming swung his sword, severing the man's head.
Another gang member struck A Ming's back with an axe from behind. A Ming still didn't move from his spot, but his upper body twisted, his sword sweeping backward across the attacker's throat. Blood gushed from the man's neck as he collapsed.
Two gang members holding long spears charged at A Ming together. He still made no attempt to dodge, allowing the spears to pierce his body.
A Ming's body trembled. He relaxed his muscles and began to move forward, unconcerned even with two "toothpicks" now skewering his chest.
In the blink of an eye, A Ming was before these two spear-wielding gang members. Their hands still numbly gripped the spear shafts.
A Ming smiled at them, then swung his sword, lopping off both their heads.
They let go of their spears and fell.
A Ming's body then began to lean backward. The two spears embedded in him acted as supports, catching on the paving stones. His body tilted back but didn't fall, the sword still clutched in his hand, its blade parallel to his body, forming a forty-five-degree angle with the ground.
At the same time, he asked, "My sword, how is it?"
Outside the courtyard, Blind Bei silently lowered his erhu.
He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket—a gift from the wife of the City Patrol Commandant—wiped the raindrops from his forehead, and sighed, "So cheap."