Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Blade Is Swift

Something was wrong! The alluring woman’s heart leapt in alarm, a sense of deadly danger welling up from the depths of her soul. She was just about to retreat when a sudden pain shot through her waist.

The pain was subtle—so slight that, without careful attention, it would have gone unnoticed. Yet this very pain began to spread in the blink of an eye. Though faint at first, as it crept throughout her entire body, the ache grew into agony, searing through her bones and making her tremble uncontrollably.

With great effort, the woman turned her head. Through layers of swirling black mist, she saw Fang Mu facing her, holding in his free hand… a butcher’s knife. An intense aura of malice shrouded the blade; this was no ordinary tool.

As the black fog gradually dispersed, Iron Abacus Immortal, who had been waiting anxiously nearby, finally caught sight of Fang Mu and the woman. Both appeared unscathed.

“Brother…” Iron Abacus Immortal opened his mouth, about to speak.

“Hush…” Fang Mu slowly retrieved the ghost-binding dagger, holding the dagger in one hand and the butcher’s knife in the other, a look of satisfaction on his face. “A perfect dissection. After all my years as a coroner, this is the first time I’ve butchered a cow with such skill… what a blade…”

“What…” Iron Abacus Immortal scratched his head, utterly puzzled.

“That’s it? Are you giving me a massage?” The alluring woman burst into raucous laughter. “Ha ha ha… Hic!”

Fang Mu shook the butcher’s knife and said, “Don’t be hasty. The blade was too quick for you to even notice.”

Countless fine red lines appeared across the woman’s body, and then, an obscene gush of blood spurted forth, grotesquely censoring the scene. In the next instant, she was reduced to a heap of fleshly fragments, with nothing left but a skeletal frame.

“This… this!” Iron Abacus Immortal was dumbfounded. To slaughter the Dragon Gate in reverse—this was beyond belief.

“Meow…” Ah Bai scampered up and clung to Fang Mu’s leg, beginning to climb.

Fang Mu reversed the grip on the butcher’s knife and asked, “What exactly is a Ghastly Adept?”

He had understood most of the conversation earlier, but the term “Ghastly Adept” remained a mystery.

Iron Abacus Immortal, snapped out of his shock by the question, hurried to explain. “A Ghastly Adept is the counterpart of a Mystic Adept. They can hardly be called human anymore.”

“Oh?” Fang Mu bent down to pick up the bronze Eight Trigrams disc on the ground, handing it to Iron Abacus Immortal. “Explain—why can’t they be called human?”

Iron Abacus Immortal accepted the disc and stowed it away with care before replying, “A Ghastly Adept is half-human, half-ghastly. They forsake the cultivation methods of Mystic Adepts, fusing with ghastly forces to wield their power. But this heretical path easily warps the mind, making one bloodthirsty and violent. Even the kindest soul may turn utterly wicked.”

With that, Iron Abacus Immortal let out a long breath.

To have his Eight Trigrams returned moved him deeply. The man before him, though seemingly a novice, hid a strength far beyond mere pretense—slaughtering the Dragon Gate was a matter of a flick of the finger. One could not help but feel awe.

Fang Mu walked to the counter and asked, “And who are you? What is your identity?”

“Me?” Iron Abacus Immortal was startled, then quickly replied, “I’m an itinerant Mystic Adept, a fortune-teller by trade. One day, I awakened a divine talent related to divination.”

He could sense Fang Mu’s aura of menace; a wrong answer might have left him in pieces as well.

“You’ve only just entered the Reverse Flow,” Fang Mu remarked, placing his hand on the counter, the butcher’s knife and ghost-binding dagger glinting coldly. “How do you know so much?”

He himself had only just stepped into the Reverse Flow, yet the world still felt shrouded in mystery. So why did Iron Abacus Immortal, also in Reverse Flow, know so much more?

Iron Abacus Immortal paused, then replied with surprise, “I’m quite gifted—I spent half a year to enter the Reverse Flow. In half a year, you can learn a lot.”

Fang Mu: “…”

Half a year? Gifted?

Was there a misunderstanding about the word “gifted”? If half a year was considered quick, then what did that make him? A prodigy among prodigies—or perhaps someone cheating fate itself.

Fang Mu wanted to ask more, but an anomaly arose around them.

Thick smoke began to seep along the street. In just a few breaths, the fog had blanketed the entire road, obscuring everything from view. Within the mist, shadowy, terrifying figures glided about, their eyes cold and desolate, sending chills of dread through the heart.

“The market is closing!” Iron Abacus Immortal darted to the doorway and shut the door, blocking those baleful gazes.

Fang Mu frowned. “Closing? You mean it’s ending?”

“That’s right, it’s ending—” Iron Abacus Immortal turned around, but before he could finish his sentence, he vanished into thin air.

Not just Iron Abacus Immortal—the entire scene around them began to blur and dissolve.

In the blink of an eye, Fang Mu found himself back in the dense forest where he had started. This time, unlike his arrival, he had gained the art of disguise, the Butcher’s Blade, the butcher’s knife, and a white cat.

“Meow…” Ah Bai perched on Fang Mu’s shoulder, affectionately nuzzling his neck.

Fang Mu sighed, picked up the butcher’s knife, and left the woods.

…

In Dragon Well County, Fang Mu rose early and made his way to the courtyard. The disturbance at the ghost market had passed some time ago, and now he was preparing to set out on some business.

Recently, several cases had surfaced in Dragon Well County concerning the late Butcher Zhao. What began as a murder investigation soon revealed that Zhao had a notorious past. Upon thorough inquiry by the magistrate’s office, it was discovered that Zhao had been a notorious bandit; all his wealth had been acquired through robbery.

Upon hearing this, Fang Mu recalled what Iron Abacus Immortal had said: the ghost market only seized those guilty of heinous crimes. So, one night, Fang Mu disguised himself and slipped into the county office, delivering a letter written with his left hand to the county magistrate. The letter named several individuals connected to the murder cases—people the ghost market had targeted. After careful investigation, all were found to have criminal records.

Regrettably, after Boss Zhou was taken away, the people of Dragon Well County would have to go without marinated delicacies.

Outside the courtyard, Ah Bai was crouched on the ground, intently watching a line of ants.

“Let’s go,” Fang Mu said, tapping the butcher’s knife in his hand.

Ah Bai immediately stood up, stumbling over to Fang Mu and extending his front paws expectantly.

Fang Mu picked him up before leaving home. This was a Ghast-Eater Beast; though it looked like a cat, it was genuine in its own right. He felt it was unsafe to leave it behind, and besides, he was happy to raise it as a future ally.

…

Dragon Well County soon returned to its peaceful routine. The murder cases that had caused such a stir became merely topics of idle gossip.

Fang Mu stopped in front of a certain shop, hearing the whisper of a sewing machine within.

“Ah, you’re here,” the tailor called out in greeting when he saw Fang Mu.

Fang Mu stepped inside. “Boss, is my order ready?”

“All done!” The tailor handed him an object—a crescent-shaped leather piece with straps for fastening to the waist.

Fang Mu slipped his butcher’s knife inside; it fit perfectly. “How much?”

“One tael of silver,” the tailor replied, holding up a finger. “Finest buffalo leather, crafted through dozens of intricate steps. Your knife is so sharp, only this sheath will do.”

Fang Mu nodded, handed over the money, and left.

With the butcher’s knife at his waist, he felt much lighter. Though it still drew some attention, it was better than carrying it in hand.