The person hadn’t finished speaking when another rush of hurried footsteps sounded at the temple gate. A man in black strode in. He wasn’t masked, and there was a scar on his face. Seeing the three desperate people, he grinned crookedly like a cat playing with mice: “Well, you sure ran far.”

The young man gritted his teeth, drew a sword from his waist, and charged at the man in black: “I’ll kill you!”

But though his momentum was fierce, his skills were clumsy—he looked sharp with his thick brows and big eyes, but his movements were awkward. He didn’t even manage a single move before the man in black easily flicked away his weapon and, with a backhanded slap, struck him squarely in the abdomen, sending him flying more than a yard away as if teasing a kitten.

The youth got up right after, covered in dust, shouting loudly, but showed not a trace of fear and charged barehanded again.

The Old Fisherman grew anxious, seemingly wanting to get up, but his injuries were too severe. He moved and then crashed heavily back to the ground.

The man in black sneered, “Little rabbit, still want to bite?” He sidestepped, curled his fingers into a claw, and reached for the youth’s back. In the moonlight, his hand didn’t look like flesh and blood, but glimmered with a pale blue light, clearly intending to kill.

Samuel Carter hadn’t intended to meddle, but remembering the “shared boat” fate with The Old Fisherman, and seeing the youth was so young, he didn’t want to watch him die. He had already palmed a small stone, and was about to flick it out when suddenly a whistle sounded. The man in black’s eyes flashed, and he somersaulted away, causing the youth to miss.

Where the man in black had just stood, a one-inch-long lotus-shaped dart was now embedded in the ground.

A girl’s sweet voice called out, “Well, well, in the dead of night, there are such shameless people bullying old women and children in the wilderness.”

Samuel Carter was startled—this voice sounded familiar. He put away the stone he hadn’t thrown, lay back down slowly, and watched quietly.

The man in black’s face twitched, his eyes jumping—Samuel Carter thought it was because of the scar, making his face stiff, almost like he’d had a stroke, fierce yet a bit comical. He snapped, “Where did this little bitch come from?”

The girl just smiled. Samuel Carter looked closely and saw a flash of purple at the door—it was the very Little Girl who had threatened to poison him earlier today. He thought to himself that today was truly a day of strange encounters; nearly half the people involved in this temple’s drama were ones he’d already met.

He wondered where the purple-clad girl’s master had gone. She tilted her head, looking innocent and lively as she leaned against the door, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, and lightly scraped her cheek with her forefinger, smiling: “Old bastard, aren’t you ashamed, bullying old folks and children, and even someone about to die.”

The Old Fisherman—who earlier had been so lively cursing people—now, hearing himself called “about to die,” really did seem on the verge of death, lying on the ground unable to utter even a fart.

4

4. Chapter Four: The Righteous

The man in black and the girl in purple quickly started fighting. Samuel Carter watched with a clear eye—these two had very different fighting styles, but were equally ruthless and unscrupulous, nothing like the so-called righteous sects.

After only fourteen or fifteen moves, the man in black suddenly feinted back with the girl’s palm, then kicked at her chest. The girl dodged sideways, gave a sharp cry, and with her fingers together, chopped down, clearly aiming to cripple his kneecap. Unexpectedly, something on the man’s pants clicked, and a spring shot out from his calf, launching a broken arrow straight at the girl’s chin.

The girl’s skills were good, seemingly a notch above the man in black, but she hadn’t expected such a dirty trick. Startled, she tried to dodge, but it was too late. The small stone in Samuel Carter’s hand finally flew out, striking the arrowhead, which narrowly grazed her temple.

Despite the danger, the girl showed no sign of fear like an ordinary person. Instead, she became furious, didn’t hesitate for a moment, turned her chopping hand into a claw, grabbed the man’s leg, twisted and pulled—he screamed as she broke his leg. Still not satisfied, her slender hand glowed blue as she struck his chest hard. The man flew backward, his broken leg curled up, his face quickly turning a purplish gray. Eyes bulging, he pointed at the girl and gasped, “You’re the Purple… Purple…”

He never finished saying “Purple”—his eyes rolled back and he went to meet the King of Hell.

The old woman on the side was so frightened by the beautiful girl’s ruthlessness that she fell silent.

But the youth, simple and honest as he seemed, reacted first. He rushed to The Old Fisherman’s side and asked anxiously, “Uncle Thompson, are you all right? You…”

The Old Fisherman seemed to have a breath left. With effort, he grabbed the youth’s sleeve. The youth quickly and carefully dragged him up and held him in his arms. The purple-clad girl came over, lifted The Old Fisherman’s eyelids, frowned, and bluntly said, “It’s San Geng Duan Chang San, and with all this blood loss, I don’t think he can be saved. You should prepare yourself.”