But the money had already been handed over. They had already arranged for the appropriate people to deal with that brat, Gyutaro.
It was a considerable sum. He was just a kid, but those damned bastards insisted he was difficult to handle and demanded a fortune.
As the tall man in the lead thought of the money they'd spent, a flash of ruthlessness crossed his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped his wooden club and drew a short blade from his waist, slashing it directly toward Quan Qinghe's throat.
"You two, get over here and help! Finish this damn brat off quickly!"
The man's voice was booming. Qinghe knew exactly what he was doing—he wanted to signal the two accomplices waiting at the mouth of the alley to move in and pin him and Ume down.
To be honest, Qinghe was feeling a surge of nerves.
Before transmigrating, he had lived in a society governed by the rule of law; he had gone his entire life without so much as a fistfight. Even with the aid of Sun Breathing, the deep-seated anxiety couldn't be entirely purged from his heart.
However, as the tall man's dagger swung toward him, Qinghe discovered something unexpected. Under the weight of his intense focus, his breathing subconsciously fell into the rhythm of Sun Breathing.
He remembered clearly that in the original story, the protagonists had to endure extreme agony just to achieve Total Concentration Breathing. As for the later "Total Concentration: Constant," that was a feat Tanjiro only achieved after grueling training, like blowing into gourds until they burst.
While Qinghe hadn't mastered the "Constant" state yet, this subconscious slip into Total Concentration felt as natural as breathing itself.
In that instant, the man's attack seemed to slow down, as if time had ground to a halt.
Through a perspective that felt like a slow-motion film, Qinghe watched the dagger's trajectory. He could see every line it traced through the air; he could even see the savage distortion of the man's facial muscles as he exerted himself.
Qinghe chose not to dodge with a large movement. The alley was narrow; if he moved too far, he would leave a massive opening and expose Ume.
Exhaling a soft breath, Qinghe shifted his body by the smallest of margins.
As the dagger thrust forward, the cold sensation of the blade felt as though it were about to pierce his skin.
Yet, it missed by a hair's breadth. Within a gap of less than a centimeter, Qinghe's body moved like a piece of paper caught in a gust of wind, evading the strike at an impossible angle.
The blade whistled past his neck, slicing through nothing but thin air.
At the same time, the tall man's momentum carried him forward, his balance shattered by the force of his failed strike.
Now!
Qinghe's mind instantly identified the perfect window to strike. Reversing his grip on the dagger he'd taken from Ume, he swung it upward with a sudden, violent force.
The once-rusty blade now looked entirely different!
As Qinghe breathed, a searing heat unique to Sun Breathing surged. The rusted edge traced a faint, glowing crimson arc in the air—a light so brilliant it stood out even in the peak of the midday sun.
The next second, a line of blood sprayed outward as the dagger precisely tore through the man's wrist!
"ARGH!!!"
Agony flared instantly. The man's dagger clattered to the ground. He stared at the geyser of blood erupting from his hand, feeling his strength drain away with every pulse of red.
The two thugs following behind the tall man felt their scalps go numb at the sight of the wound.
It wasn't just a standard cut. In the center of the mangled flesh sat a charred, blackened mark, and the edges of the wound gave off the sickening, unmistakable scent of roasted meat.
Moreover, the wound barely bled after the initial spray. The moment the flesh was torn, the extreme heat had cauterized the tissue!
The sheer intensity of the burn sent the man into spasms. He collapsed onto the ground, wailing in agony.
Qinghe watched the man thrash about, but he felt no joy.
This strange wound was a liability. If the man survived and realized what had happened, it could bring disastrous consequences.
But Qinghe knew that without Sun Breathing, he couldn't defeat these men. It was a catch-22.
In this feudal era, if this man left alive, he and his pack of hyenas would undoubtedly seek revenge. More dangerously, he could use this wound as evidence to frame Qinghe as a demon or a monster. Either accusation would lead to him being burned at the stake or hung—outcomes he could not accept.
The light in Qinghe's eyes grew cold. For his own safety, he had to kill this man.
Taking a deep breath, he didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, aiming the dagger straight for the man's throat. He was going to finish it.
But just then, the two men who had been guarding the back of the alley charged in.
Seeing Qinghe's move, they let out a primal roar. That shout seemed to galvanize the other two standing near Qinghe, and suddenly, all four of them lunged at him simultaneously.
Facing four attackers at once, Qinghe slipped back into the state of Total Concentration.
In this heightened state, their attack patterns became clear.
One man on his back-left was thrusting a dagger toward his heart. Directly behind him, another was swinging a heavy stone at his head. To his front-right, a man with a battered katana posed the greatest threat, lunging with a piercing strike aimed at his abdomen.
The fourth man trailed a few steps behind the others, seemingly positioned to cut off Ume's escape.
Qinghe let out a frustrated sigh, grumbling inwardly.
These damn bastards... why do they actually have brains? This is nothing like the brainless villains in novels!
Meanwhile, at the lumberyard outside the city, Gyutaro looked at the group of people who had suddenly surrounded him. His expression turned ice-cold.
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