Volume One: The Soul-Guiding Gourd and the Soul-Burning Lamp Chapter 113: The Bloodthirsty Lone Wolf—Yu Kongcheng

The cold wind howled, a backdrop to endless slaughter. A blood-red moon stared with eerie intensity at everything unfolding in the heart of the desert.

With a soft, wet thud, a shadow drenched in fresh blood leaped out from the fine sand. The mottled moonlight fell coldly upon it. Gu Mo narrowed his eyes, eager to get a good look at this strange figure—was it man or demon?

Under the dappled light, the figure revealed itself to be a handsome, long-haired youth of about twenty. This was frankly infuriating! Not only was he good-looking, but his combat skills were also razor-sharp. How was a person supposed to compete with that?

Although Gu Mo was a novice just beginning his cultivation, dealing with seven or eight armed men was child’s play for him. Yet, this incredibly bizarre youth had effortlessly wiped out eight ninjas in a single stroke. His strength was clearly far superior to Gu Mo’s. Judging by his appearance, the youth hadn’t been cultivating for very long either. If that wasn’t unfair, what was? The more Gu Mo thought about it, the more chaotic his mind became, even feeling a pang of jealousy toward the youth’s prowess. As the old saying goes, comparisons are odious.

Just as Gu Mo was wrestling with his thoughts, the strange youth let out another soul-shaking wolf howl toward the retreating ninjas.

*Awooo!*

Clearly, a new round of slaughter had begun. The youth crouched low and vanished into the darkness with a single bound. Seconds later, heart-wrenching screams echoed from the distance. (A moment of sympathy for the cowards.)

Seeing this, the four men hiding in the shadow of the sand dune felt their nerves tighten and their bodies tremble. Was this youth even human? He was nothing more than a bloodthirsty, lone wolf of the desert.

...

Time passed, and the blood-stained youth strolled back onto the battlefield. He extended a crimson tongue to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth, then spat to the side.

*Ptooey!*

Inside the dilapidated warship nearby, a chorus of screams suddenly erupted. The piercing cries tore through the frozen desert night.

"Time for a real hunt tonight!"

In a blink, the ninja leader, wielding a katana, stepped through a gaping hole in the hull, clutching a bloody severed head. It was clear he had slaughtered all the researchers inside. While such inhumane behavior was deeply immoral, it effectively wiped out all data and intelligence.

A moment later, deafening explosions rocked the ruined ship. *Boom! Boom! Boom!* In an instant, the steel behemoth was engulfed in a sea of fire. Thick black smoke billowed toward the heavens amidst a long, piercing wail. The ninja leader, standing before the blast, didn't even flinch at the searing heat wave. True men never look back at explosions.

Suddenly, with a *swish*, the arrogant ninja leader stood frozen in place. With a flick of his hand, he tossed the severed head toward the strange youth like a ball.

*Roll, roll, roll.*

The bloody head left a crimson trail in the sand before coming to a stop, coated in gore and grit. The wide, panicked, glassy eyes were filled with confusion, resentment, and terror.

The ninja leader stood aloof in the biting wind. The strange youth looked at him and gave a dismissive scoff. The ninja leader said nothing. With a sharp *zing*, he plunged his katana into the sand. He then took out a headband, tied it tightly around his forehead, and sat cross-legged on the sand.

The youth dusted off his clothes with one hand, clearly not viewing his enemy as a threat. A arrogant, magnetic voice rang out from his lips:

"Damn foreign barbarians, daring to invade our territory! Even a ninja... will have to learn to endure this!"

The ninja leader’s expression remained unmoved. He reached up and removed the black mask from his face, revealing a square jawline, thick brows, large eyes, a prominent nose, and full lips. His gaze, however, was vicious.

He let out a reckless laugh, then spoke in rough, broken Mandarin: "You are truly formidable. I, Hattori Kenjiro, am deeply impressed. My mission has failed; I have no face to return."

With that, the ninja leader began to undress. Yes, he stripped off his shirt! What was this? If you can't win, you don't resort to seduction! Besides, the youth didn't look like the type to appreciate that sort of thing. How dishonorable!

Under the mottled moonlight, Hattori Kenjiro’s muscular, sturdy torso was revealed, covered in shocking, fatal scars—each one telling a story of its own. He was a man of grit indeed. (Though he was a killing machine for an enemy state, these marks of "honor" knew no borders.)

Hattori Kenjiro neatly folded his shirt and laid out his weapons with ritualistic precision. He then drew a short blade from his waist. *Zing!* The scabbard fell perfectly onto his folded clothes, revealing a cold, biting edge. He gripped the blade with both hands and stared coldly at the youth.

"Now that it has come to this, may I ask your name?"

The youth looked down at him, a mocking smirk curling his lips. "749 Provisions Company security personnel, Yu Kongcheng. Codename K. If you want revenge, feel free to try!"

Hattori Kenjiro, still sitting cross-legged, actually smiled with satisfaction. He looked up at Yu Kongcheng and said loudly, "Kongcheng-kun, at this final hour, I ask you to bear witness!"

As the words left his lips, he gritted his teeth and pressed the sharp blade into his abdomen. With a *squelch*, the tip sank into flesh, and blood gushed out instantly. A strange smile appeared on Kenjiro’s face, though beads of sweat the size of peas poured down his brow. The pain was enough to make one’s hair stand on end. Only a man who could face death head-on was a true man.

He dragged the blade hard to the left. A gruesome sight unfolded, staining the sand red—a scene of disembowelment too harrowing to describe in words. Everyone watching was stunned, frozen in shock, unable to utter a sound.

Hattori Kenjiro endured the unbearable agony, tilted his head toward the hazy moon, and shouted, "Long live the Empire! Long live the Hattori clan!"

With a *swish*, he bowed his proud head one last time. Curiously, a stream of green liquid trickled from the corner of his mouth. A warrior of iron and blood had fallen.

Seeing this, the four men hiding behind the dune finally exhaled, but little did they know, a new crisis was quietly approaching.

Yu Kongcheng looked down at the cooling corpse and scoffed with disdain. "Tsk. Didn't even put up a fight. Boring."

He then turned his gaze toward the dune where Gu Mo and the others were hiding and called out, "Come on out. Lying there for too long is bad for your health!"

Gu Mo, Xiao Yulou, and Min Wenhua were struck with shock. Only Li Hetang, dressed in his polar combat gear, stood up calmly and walked forward with a grave expression.

Seconds later, Gu Mo looked at Xiao Yulou in bewilderment. "Brother Xiao, did you calculate this too?"

Xiao Yulou, his face pale, merely shrugged. "I'm afraid the Daoist arts didn't cover this one!"

Gu Mo curled his lip and gave him the middle finger. "Damn you!"

...

Since they had been discovered, staying in the shadows felt cowardly. Gu Mo, Xiao Yulou, and Min Wenhua stood up and followed Li Hetang. As they reached Yu Kongcheng, a complex mixture of scents—stench, burning, and terror—washed over them.

Up close, Yu Kongcheng was about 1.7 meters tall. His raven-black hair was matted with blood and sand, framing a handsome face also covered in grime and gore. Even in such a disheveled state, his beauty was undeniable. His eyes, once burning with blood-red killing intent, now seemed surprisingly pleasant. He possessed a delicate, almost ethereal beauty that put film stars to shame. Was this what they called natural grace?

As the three of them studied him, the youth looked back at them with a puzzled expression. Yet, wherever his gaze fell, the men felt a slight tremor of fear. After all, the battle they had just witnessed was... well, it was blood-curdling!

To sum it up, Yu Kongcheng’s speed, strength, and tactics were exceptionally sharp. His movements were fluid and decisive. If one had to find a flaw, it was that his lethality was perhaps too cruel. But then again, what is youth without a bit of arrogance? And Yu Kongcheng certainly had the capital to be arrogant.

The atmosphere was heavy with awkwardness, punctuated by the horror of the scene. Then, in the next moment, Yu Kongcheng raised a fist the size of a sandbag and slammed it squarely into Li Hetang’s chest...