"It can't be repaired." Dongfang Jing glanced at it and gave the conclusion, "The crack has damaged the inside, and it will break at any time if we continue to use it."
Zhang Yong's face immediately fell.
He smiled wryly, plopped down on the anvil next to him, and began to complain bitterly.
"Damn it, this world is getting harder and harder to survive in."
"Have you heard the rumors about those fallen soul masters in the west of the city? They're all ruthless and merciless, killing without blinking an eye. Those big shots in the city lord's mansion just know how to enjoy themselves behind closed doors and don't care about a thing."
"Our city guard team, they call themselves maintaining order, but they're really just for show. They can handle ordinary thugs, but when it comes to those desperate criminals, who dares to step in?"
He slammed his fist into his leg, his voice filled with helplessness.
"With my meager salary, let alone buying a new knife, I can't even afford to buy my younger brother Xiaofeng some better medicine. You've probably heard about his illness; it's a bottomless pit."
"The doctor said that there's a medicine called 'Ningbi Pill' in Tiandou City that might stabilize his condition, but one pill of that stuff costs as much as ten years of my salary. I don't even dare to dream of it..."
Dongfang Jing listened silently without interrupting.
He placed the broken knife on the anvil, picked up a small hammer, and began to tap it, seemingly checking the material.
He could sense the despair in Zhang Yong's words.
This is the most genuine lament of an ordinary person overwhelmed by life's pressures.
During his months in Dragonflame City, he had witnessed far too much helplessness like this.
Laborers fighting tooth and nail for a few copper coins, an old man kneeling and begging for a stale bun, and residents with numb eyes who have long lost all hope.
This is the suffering of the common people in a world where Soul Masters reign supreme.
To survive, for the sake of family, just to stay alive requires all one's strength.
He thought of his younger sister, Yao'er.
If Yao'er were born in such an environment and contracted such a disease, what would I do?
Zhang Yong complained on and on for a long time, but seeing that Dongfang Jing remained silent, he also found it somewhat boring.
He chuckled self-deprecatingly and stood up.
"Forget it, why bother talking to you about this? This knife... just leave it here, it's just a piece of scrap metal."
He waved his hand, turned around, and left dejectedly.
Dongfang Jing watched his somewhat hunched back until he disappeared at the alley entrance before turning her gaze away.
He picked up the broken knife and threw it into the blazing furnace.
...
The next day, Zhang Yong was patrolling when he passed by the blacksmith's shop and was stopped by Dongfang Jing.
"Your knife."
Dongfang Jing walked out of the shop and handed him a brand-new sword.
Zhang Yong was stunned.
He took the knife and slowly pulled it out.
"Clang—"
A clear and melodious dragon's roar.
The blade reflected a chilling light in the sunlight.
Unlike his previous standard-issue sword, this sword was covered with fine, strange patterns on its blade.
He flicked his finger, and the blade emitted a soft "hum," the sound lingering in the air.
Fine knife!
Absolutely a great knife!
Zhang Yong wasn't someone who didn't know his stuff; this knife was a hundred times better than his previous one! It was even better than the city guard captain's sword!
"Brother Jing, how much... how much is this?" He was so excited that his voice trembled, and he frantically reached for his purse.
Dongfang Jing simply waved his hand.
He took the few copper coins from Zhang Yong that were used for repairing old knives and put them in his pocket.
"It's made from scrap iron, it's worthless."
After saying that, he turned and went back to the blacksmith shop, leaving Zhang Yong with only an unfathomable back view.
Zhang Yong stood frozen in place, gripping the brand-new sword tightly in his hand, the warmth of the hilt seemingly reaching his very heart.
He looked at the figure in the blacksmith's shop who was swinging the hammer again, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
Finally, he bowed deeply in the direction of the shop.
...
The calm on the surface of Dragonflame City is like a thin layer of ice floating on boiling water, which would shatter at the slightest touch.
The one who broke through this thin layer of ice was a man who came from the depths of the far western desert.
He wore a tattered, blood-red cloak, his face weathered by the sandstorm like cracked tree bark, but his eyes, like the most venomous scorpions in the desert, gleamed with a violent and insane light.
He called himself "Blood Butcher".
No one knows his origins, only that he is a fallen Soul Master at the Soul Emperor level.
Fallen Soul Masters are a group of madmen whose minds have been twisted by desire and slaughter. They are the cancer of the Soul Master world and the enemy of all order.
Blood Butcher had just entered the city,
The first thing they did was find the gang of thugs who had gone to the blacksmith's shop to collect protection money a few days earlier—the Black Tiger Gang.
He didn't utter a single unnecessary word.
That night.
The Black Tiger Gang's stronghold, a dilapidated courtyard, was stained red.
The gang leader and more than thirty gang members were all killed.
Their deaths were extremely gruesome. Some were cut in half at the waist, their internal organs spilling out onto the ground; some had their limbs torn off while still alive, leaving only their torsos twitching in pools of blood; and some had their heads twisted off completely, their faces still showing the terror of their impending death.
The strong stench of blood, mixed with the stench of entrails, enveloped almost half of Dragonflame City.
The next morning, when the city guards arrived at the scene with trepidation, all they found was a scene of utter devastation.
Blood Butcher sat in the middle of the pile of severed limbs, slowly wiping his eerie blood-red scimitar with a relatively clean rag, chewing on human flesh.
Upon seeing the arrival of the city guards, he grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained with blood.
"From today onwards, the west side of the city belongs to me."
The captain of the city guard was a middle-aged man with a bloated belly and the cultivation level of a Soul Venerable.
He stared at the horrific scene before him, smelling the nauseating stench of blood, and his legs trembled like leaves.
He desperately wanted to say, "Dragon Flame City doesn't welcome you," but when Blood Butcher's scorpion-like eyes swept over him, he felt a chilling killing intent completely engulf him.
The Soul Emperor's aura was like a mountain, pressing down on him so much that he almost suffocated.
Finally, the captain managed to force a smile that looked more like a grimace, bowing and scraping repeatedly.
"Yes, yes, sir, please make yourself at home..."
Blood Butcher was very pleased with his sensibility.
He pulled a heavy money bag from his pocket and threw it at the captain's feet.
"This is for the brothers' tea money. From now on, don't worry about things in the west of the city."
The captain picked up the money bag, and its heavy weight made his smile instantly more genuine.
He readily agreed and, with his men, fled this hellish scene as if escaping.
From then on, the western part of Dragonflame City completely fell into the territory of Blood Butcher.
He forcibly levied a so-called "security tax," which required every shop and resident to pay him exorbitant fees every day.
Those who cannot pay will only face one fate: death.
Moreover, the death was extremely painful.
Blood Butcher seems to enjoy the process of torturing people. He uses all sorts of cruel methods to torture and kill those who resist in front of everyone, in order to intimidate people.
In an instant, the entire western part of the city was filled with mournful cries, turning into a true hell on earth.
Countless people tried to escape with their families, only to be cruelly blocked at the city gate by Blood Butcher's men, who threatened to either pay up or die.
An atmosphere of despair, like a plague, quickly enveloped the entire Dragonflame City.
🔥 Read Ahead!
Unlock 40+ advanced chapters on Patreon.
👉 patreon.com/Ficthoria
(End of chapter)