Chapter 16: Dreaded by Thieves

Chapter 16: The Bandits’ Bane

“Hahahahahaha… Are you trying to make me die laughing so you can inherit my ants?”

Zheng Jian rarely laughed, unless he simply couldn’t help it. But this scene was just too much. Damn it, the classic lines for a bandit robbery—others wrote them so well, and yet this scar-faced man had to translate them into a folksy verse. It was just… so down-to-earth.

“What the hell was that? What ‘bei’?” The scar-faced man was utterly confused. “What did he just say?”

The men behind him shook their heads; they didn’t understand either.

“Kid, I don’t care what ‘bei’ you’re talking about. If you don’t want to die, leave everything you have. Otherwise, I’ll make you wish you could die!” the scar-faced man roared.

“Uh, you already said that… about the robbery… pfft…” Zheng Jian tried to hold back his laughter as he spoke, but another chuckle escaped.

“Still laughing! Get him! Kill this brat!” The scar-faced man finally realized he was being mocked, and his fury exploded.

As the group surged forward, knives in hand, Zheng Jian suddenly called out, “Wait!”

They stopped in their tracks. “What, got any last words?”

Zheng Jian dismounted calmly, dusted off his hands, and struck a pose. “Go ahead.”

The scar-faced man was bewildered again. “Go ahead with what?”

Zheng Jian replied, “Didn’t you say last words? You can speak now. I’m ready to listen.”

The scar-faced man was so infuriated he almost suffered a stroke, his face turning as black as the bottom of a pot.

“Resentment value from Wu Dalang +666.”

“Damn it, just die!” the scar-faced man bellowed. In all his years as a bandit, he had never met anyone as infuriating as Zheng Jian.

“Wu Dalang? Why not call him Wu Song so I can give him some medicine…” Zheng Jian mused to himself. Watching the men charge, he could tell at a glance they were all amateurs. Having already gained a hefty resentment value, he couldn’t be bothered to play along with their act any longer. He’d already given them plenty of lines—what more did they want?

With a few casual moves, he had them all sprawled on the ground, unable to get up.

Now the scar-faced man realized he’d picked on the wrong person. Regretting his poor judgment, he immediately groveled for mercy, “Hero, please spare me! I have…”

“You have an eighty-year-old mother above and a child crying for food below, right?” Zheng Jian mocked. “Couldn’t even get the bandit lingo right before, but now you sound like a proper bandit.”

Zheng Jian was no saint. These men blocked the road for robbery—who knew how many people they’d murdered? Meeting him was just their misfortune.

“If begging for mercy worked, what would be the point of a sword? Letting you go is the King of Hell’s business. My job is to send you to him!” With that, Zheng Jian thrust his sword straight into the scar-faced man’s chest.

The others scrambled to escape, terrified—they had never seen someone so young and so ruthless, killing without batting an eye.

For the sake of purifying the area around Mount Hua, Zheng Jian decided to finish the job. One man, one sword—he made quick work of them.

It was only then that Zheng Jian realized—damn, this was the first time in all his lives that he’d actually killed someone and drawn blood.

Yet he felt nothing. “People say the first time you kill, you get nauseous and want to puke. Why don’t I feel anything? Am I just cold-blooded? Or maybe all those transmigrators before me had a pregnant woman’s constitution—why else would they get morning sickness?”

“No, I shouldn’t badmouth my predecessors. Clearly, it’s my problem. I must be cold-blooded,” Zheng Jian muttered to himself, cleaning the blood off his sword.

Riding on, he suddenly slapped his forehead. “Damn, I got carried away killing them and forgot to ask for directions…”

He realized he’d circled back to the starting point, and after all this delay, the sky was growing dark. “Should’ve asked where to find a ruined temple for the night before killing them…”

Now the men were gone, and there was nothing he could do. He could only lead his horse through the mountains, stumbling along in the deepening night.

Late at night, by starlight, he finally saw the vague outline of a temple up ahead. Revived, he hurried his steps.

At the temple gate, he found it was indeed a dilapidated place. The Buddha statues inside were missing arms or legs, cobwebs hung everywhere, and dust lay thick as a blanket.

He gathered some dry wood and struggled to get a fire going. By its light, he saw his once pristine white robe, newly bought that day, was already covered in grime.

Damn it, what a waste…

…

With the lessons learned from his first day’s journey, Zheng Jian wised up. From then on, he planned his route each day, making sure he had food and lodging sorted. Things gradually became much smoother.

He swapped his white robe for an ordinary dark one, pawned the white outfit at a shop. Damn it, being a “Young Hero in White” was too much trouble—let someone else play that role.

On the road, Zheng Jian encountered more than one group of roadside thieves. He also witnessed bloody battles, massacres, and entire families wiped out.

By the time he reached the borders of Fujian, over a month had passed. He’d already gone through several horses.

What Zheng Jian didn’t know was that, along his journey, he had begun to make a name for himself in the martial world. Because he never let any roadside bandit go, merchants and travelers found their journeys much safer.

The nickname they gave him was “Bandits’ Bane.”

The first time Zheng Jian heard it, he nearly exploded in rage.

Damned if this wasn’t the worst luck—other people had grand titles like “Lightning Sword,” “Soul-Stirring Blade,” or at the very least “Swift Sword Su” or “Quick Blade Li.” Even the less flattering ones were “Iron Ox” or “Mad Saber.” But “Bandits’ Bane”? What kind of backwater nonsense was that?

He was the king of all bumpkins!

Angry enough to want to fight, he had half a mind to beat up every merchant and escort agency along the road, so their whole families could be “Bandits’ Bane.”

The mere thought of that nickname made him want to crawl into a hole. He’d always been the one to give others trouble, and now karma had come for him. If this got back to Mount Hua, those bastards would laugh themselves to death.

In the future, when he’d face off against the Chief of the East at Blackwood Cliff, the Chief would declare, “The sun rises in the east; none can defeat me.” And he, Zheng Jian, would have to say, “I am Bandits’ Bane”?

Damn it, even if he won, the Chief would probably die laughing first. The shame would be unbearable!

Just as he stepped into the famed Joyful Inn, the haunt of countless martial heroes, he overheard a conversation inside.

“Have you heard? There’s a new young master on the road, specializing in wiping out those lawless bandits. He’s taken down seventeen mountain strongholds in a row! Ruthless, isn’t he?”

“Of course I’ve heard. Bandits’ Bane! He’s the rising star of the martial world these days—truly inspiring…”

Zheng Jian: “…” Bandits’ Bane? Bandit your damn head! Your whole family are Bandits’ Bane!

The journey of a young hero in the martial world had only just begun, and already he’d wandered off the beaten path…

This was just too much to bear!

…