Chapter Sixty-One: The Begging Slave

In the dark, filthy prison, one of the men who had been caught eating meat days ago now hung from a wooden rack, his body covered in bloody welts. Ripped hemp cloth was mashed into his mangled flesh, and the stench of blood and the prisoners themselves drew swarms of flies. Two guards wielding thorny whips lashed him again and again.

“We confess! We confess!” the man screamed hoarsely, over and over, but the two guards seemed deaf to his pleas and did not pause. Uncle Wu stood nearby, his face expressionless, only his eyes betraying a savage glint.

Eventually, the beating ceased. Uncle Wu motioned with his hand, and the guards licked their lips, exhaled heavily, and stepped aside.

“Speak—this is your last chance. If I catch a single lie, you won’t have another opportunity to tell the truth.”

“We… we only lured very young children, barely two or three years old, best if they were siblings. If the girl was pretty, we’d have her steal for us—money, valuables. If she was ugly, we’d break her limbs, gouge out her eyes, slice her breasts, make her look freakish, and set her out to beg. When they grew older, the beautiful ones, we’d get first use of them, then sell them to the brothels. The ugly ones were left to fend for themselves…”

“Vile creatures, truly heartless!” The guards shuddered, some couldn’t help but kick the man in fury. “And the boys? Did you treat them the same way?”

The villain, barely conscious, wracked with pain and terrified by Uncle Wu’s coldness, dared not hold back. He continued, “If it was a boy, we’d force down that foul concoction the boss made, knock him unconscious, then hack off his hands and feet, peel off his skin with a knife, and sew on the fresh skins of cats or dogs, while the blood was still warm. Human and beast blood would mingle, and after a few months, it would fuse. Once they recovered, we’d feed them mute medicine, castrate them, and if their fur took well, we’d sell them to rich households as playthings. If not, they’d be sent out for street performances, or, if we found a fat mark, we’d pretend they were monsters and sell them to be slaughtered and eaten…”

Even the hardiest of the guards were appalled by such monstrous acts, their legs weak with horror. Uncle Wu snorted angrily; the villain trembled, a wet stain spreading beneath him as he lost control.

He knew his crimes were unforgivable and dared not lie. Desperately, he shifted the blame onto the other two. “I was forced! They’re the ringleaders—they sent me to watch the children steal, while they stayed home enjoying themselves. I was only following orders… And the idea to sew on animal skins was theirs! At first, they’d pour boiling water over the kids—most died from burns or later infections, dozens at least—then they started using knives to cut hundreds of wounds, peeling off the skin alive. Only then did more survive…”

Uncle Wu drew a deep breath, suppressing his rage, and spoke coldly, “Where are the other two?”

Humanity had sunk so low that even Uncle Wu struggled to restrain his fury.

“They’re… they’re at the abandoned Zhang household in the north of the city…”

News of these horrors quickly spread through the station. The headman, his deputies, scribes, and messengers were all shocked, and even a few travelers lodging there shook their heads in disbelief. Liu Chou, who had just returned, heard the whole story. Yet, for all he had seen in past lives—whether in darkness or in the squalor of Meishan—this was little different from what he had known.

Still, holding the position of city captain, some things could no longer be ignored…

Uncle Wu came out of the prison grim-faced. Seeing Liu Chou, his expression softened slightly and he bowed. “Captain, we owe you much—without your clever plan, these criminals would have escaped us.”

“There’s no need for thanks. What matters now is to gather our men and wipe out that den—capture everyone.”

“Exactly. Guards! Follow me to the armory—let us seize the criminals!”

“Yes, sir!”

※

In the old house in the north of the city, a man lounged on a stone bench in the courtyard, legs crossed, dozing in the sun. Suddenly, frantic footsteps approached, and before the newcomer entered the yard, a panicked voice cried out:

“Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong, fathers—the third father’s been seized by the authorities—something’s wrong!”

A beggar child rushed in, sweating profusely, her small face flushed red.

The man sprang up, alarmed. “What did you say?” At that moment, the door slammed open and another man burst out. “What’s happened?”

The beggar girl, trembling and near tears, stammered, “Today, Liang-girl slipped up—when she ran, she passed third father and handed him the money. But suddenly, people rushed out from in front and behind, and they caught both her and third father.”

Liang-girl was the one who had stolen from Master Ren days before, known only by the single name ‘Liang.’ She was the one caught today. The constables, though they captured two people, had overlooked the other child beggars in the market, allowing some to escape and bring word.

Such is human nature. Day after day of terror had bred in these children a twisted dependency on their tormentors—cringing, eager to please, unable to imagine escape. Instead, they hurried back to warn their captors, seeing them as their future.

Alas!

The two criminals, startled, did not know if the authorities had come for justice or if they had angered someone powerful in the city. But once it had happened, there was only one choice: flee.

“We have to go! Whoever’s behind this, third brother will never withstand the torture—he’ll drag us down with him. We must run, find another city to make a living.”

“You’re right, brother. There’s nowhere we can’t find shelter. It’s too dangerous to stay here.” The second nodded eagerly, abandoning the captured third without a thought. “But… there are too many kids. That’ll be… difficult.”

The leader snorted, casting a glance at the panting beggar girl. “Go! Fetch the food inside and feed the others in the yard.”

She obeyed meekly and disappeared into the yard. Once she was gone, he lowered his voice. “Kill them all! We can always snatch more children—why drag these burdens along? Just pick a few of the strongest beast-children, sell them off, and we’ll have new ones in a few months.”

“That’s all we can do. A pity, though—some of the girls were pretty, and we never got to use them. What a waste…” The second clicked his tongue with regret, hand straying to his crotch.

Their plans made, the leader went to gather hidden money and supplies, while the second strode out to select two strong beast-children and kill the rest. In moments, they set to their grim tasks.

He cleared away the barricade at the yard entrance. Inside, the beast-children, still fighting over scraps, let out terrified moans. The second strode in, his face twisted, his bronze sword stained with blood so thick it no longer caught the sun.

The messenger girl stared at the blade in confusion, then looked up at the looming figure before her. Her young, twisted mind could not comprehend what was happening—pitiful and tragic. Only when the sword was raised did she sense something was wrong, but it was too late—

With a wet, slicing sound, the sword’s tip burst from her back, spraying blood across the yard.

Perhaps, even as she died, she never understood why this had happened.

The beast-children scattered, scrambling for cover—some dove into the straw in the rooms, some clawed desperately at the walls, while the cleverest tried to dart past the killer and escape.

Though animal skins had been sewn onto them, making them half-beast, half-child, their instincts were keener than ordinary beggars. Sensing danger, they fled at once—but they were still just children, and no match for an armed man.

One by one, they fell. In less than fifteen minutes, only two beast-children, their hands and feet bound, remained alive. The second painstakingly counted the bodies, checking again and again to make sure none had survived.

Even this simple arithmetic was a struggle for him, but after several tries, he still wasn’t sure. Scratching his head, he picked up his sword and went inside to search.

No sooner had he entered than a sudden gust of wind struck him from behind. Before he could turn, a tremendous force slammed into his waist, sending him stumbling forward and crashing to the ground. As he rolled over in a rage, three shadows leapt nimbly from the rafters like cats and darted out the door, vanishing into the old house in seconds.

The second clambered up, cursing, and gave chase.

As he rushed out, two more beast-children crept from another room, glanced around, and also scattered into the city.

His shouting alarmed the leader, who emerged from the house, sword in hand, but instead of chasing after the children, he looked toward the courtyard gate.

At the entrance, two girl beggars who had just returned were huddled together in terror, inching backward. Behind them, three more girls were approaching, having hurried back from the city after learning of Liang-girl and third brother’s capture.

They too had witnessed this horror.

The leader cursed to himself, thinking to lure them inside somehow, but just then, the second caught up to a fleeing beast-child, and with a swing of his blade, nearly decapitated him. Blood sprayed everywhere.

The girls screamed and fled. The leader had no choice but to give chase, waving his sword and shouting, trying to cow them into stopping with his old authority—but it was hopeless. Terrified and knowing the world outside, they would never stop now.

With a thud, the last girl tripped and fell. Before she could get up, the panting leader was on her, raising his sword menacingly.

She shut her eyes and screamed in terror.

But—

The imagined blow never fell. Instead, a gush of hot, foul liquid splattered across her face.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the leader staring at her, his eyes wide with disbelief, before he collapsed like a heap of mud.

A heavy boot stomped down on his face, grinding half his head into the dirt.