Chapter 3: I Was Just Passing By

Back at home, Yang Fan went straight to his room and closed the door behind him.

Seeing this, Lu Yuxi hurried over and knocked anxiously.

“Yang Fan, you’re injured, you need to go to the hospital!” she called out, her voice filled with worry.

She clearly remembered how he’d been slashed with a knife, blood flowing freely from the wounds.

“Don’t bother me. I’m not going to die,” Yang Fan replied coldly.

Such minor wounds were of no consequence to him. He had ways to staunch the bleeding, and could use his spiritual energy to heal. Though his reserves were low now, he was confident that with a few days’ time, he would recover completely.

“You’re insane! This could be fatal if you keep this up!” Lu Yuxi shouted, exasperated. She thought Yang Fan must have lost his mind—after all, with those deep gashes, if he refused to go to the hospital, it would only be a matter of time before something terrible happened.

“I said, don’t bother me,” Yang Fan said impatiently.

Lu Yuxi stood at the door, fuming with frustration.

“Fine, I won’t care about you anymore! Go ahead and die, you bastard!” she stomped her foot in anger.

Her good intentions were met with scorn—she was utterly infuriated. Since he didn’t want her help, so be it.

Returning to her own room, Lu Yuxi closed the door and lay on her bed, eyes shut, trying to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come, her mind restless with worry that something might happen to Yang Fan. To say she wasn’t concerned would be a lie. Though she didn’t like him, she couldn’t just stand by and watch him come to harm.

In the end, she picked up her phone and called for a doctor.

When the doctor arrived, Lu Yuxi led him and a nurse to Yang Fan’s door.

Inside, Yang Fan was circulating his spiritual energy to heal when he heard a knock and frowned. He sensed there were three people outside.

He stopped cultivating, walked over, and opened the door to see a doctor and a nurse, Lu Yuxi standing behind them.

“You’re hurt, you need to let the doctor take a look,” Lu Yuxi said, watching him closely.

“I’m fine, there’s no need,” Yang Fan refused.

The doctor and nurse were momentarily taken aback by his refusal.

“Young man, if you’re injured, allow us to help,” the doctor said gently, offering a smile.

Yang Fan glanced at the three before him. “Just give me some anti-inflammatory medicine, that’s all I need.”

Lu Yuxi wanted to say more, but Yang Fan’s attitude was resolute.

In the end, the doctor left him with some anti-inflammatory medicine and departed. Since he seemed all right, Lu Yuxi saw no reason to worry further and returned to her room to sleep. Yet, as she lay in bed, scenes of Yang Fan’s fight replayed in her mind, refusing to fade.

Yang Fan today was a different person—colder, more distant than before.

The next morning, Lu Yuxi rose early to prepare breakfast. After letting Yang Fan know, she left for school.

After waking, Yang Fan finished his breakfast, then left home and went to the park to meditate and cultivate.

Yesterday, he’d taken three Ziyuan Fruits; two remained. Today, if he absorbed the spiritual energy from the remaining two, he would break through to the initial stage of Qi Refinement, formally stepping onto the path of cultivation.

With this breakthrough, he would be able to practice true techniques, gaining much stronger offensive abilities.

Time slipped by as he cultivated. When he finished, it was already ten at night. The park was deserted and silent.

Brushing dust from his clothes, he stood and left.

Having absorbed two more Ziyuan Fruits, his cultivation had reached the early stage of Qi Refinement. His body was much improved now—handling a dozen opponents at once would be no problem.

As he descended the hill, he saw three men carrying a woman toward him. At once, the word “kidnapping” flashed through his mind.

“Boss, there’s someone here,” a middle-aged man said, stopping in his tracks as he spotted Yang Fan.

The three men turned to glare at him, eyes full of menace.

Yu Qian, the woman, saw someone appear and struggled desperately, her gaze fixed on Yang Fan, pleading for help. Her mouth was sealed with tape—she couldn’t scream, only muffled cries escaped.

“Uh, gentlemen, I’m just passing by. I don’t want to meddle,” Yang Fan said, spreading his hands.

He had no intention of interfering. After all, he wasn’t exactly a good person.

Hearing this, Yu Qian’s hope turned to despair. She’d thought Yang Fan might save her, but he turned out to be a coward.

“Passing by? What a coincidence,” the scar-faced man sneered, his eyes cold. “Since you’ve seen us, you’ll have to die.”

Seeing they meant to kill him, Yang Fan shook his head. “I had no interest in getting involved, but since you’re so eager to die, I’ll oblige.”

The scar-faced man lunged at Yang Fan, thrusting a dagger to kill.

In a flash, Yang Fan seized the man’s wrist, twisting it forcefully.

With a crack, the scar-faced man’s wrist snapped, and he screamed in agony.

Yang Fan took the dagger and slashed it across the man’s throat. Blood spurted out in a crimson arc.

The scar-faced man collapsed, throat cut in a single stroke.

The remaining two were startled, fear flashing in their eyes.

“Get him! Kill him!” one shouted, regaining his wits, and drew a machete, charging at Yang Fan.

The other threw Yu Qian to the ground, picked up his own blade, and attacked as well.

“Fools,” Yang Fan sneered, his eyes glinting with murderous intent.

He moved. A shadow left in his place, he swept toward them like a ghost in the night, his movements impossible to track.

The two only saw a blur as a figure flashed past—and then felt a searing pain in their throats.

They stood rooted for a moment, eyes wide, then their heads lolled and they collapsed, blood gushing forth.

Yang Fan let the blood spray across his face, closed his eyes, and savored the thrill of the kill. He licked his lips, relishing the taste of blood.

“How nostalgic,” he murmured, lost in memories.

In his past life, he was a god of slaughter—his hands stained with more blood than he could count. His life had always been a cycle of killing.

This was the first time he’d killed since his rebirth, and a strange sense of familiarity washed over him.

Meanwhile, Yu Qian was white with fear, especially as she watched the bloodthirsty look on Yang Fan’s face—it sent chills through her.

Yang Fan glanced at her, then walked over.

Seeing him approach, dagger in hand, Yu Qian screamed through the tape, eyes pleading for mercy.

She was convinced he meant to kill her as a witness. After all, he’d just murdered someone—if the police found out, he’d never escape.

Yang Fan crouched in front of her, peeled the tape from her mouth.

“Please don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” Yu Qian cried as soon as she could speak.

Yang Fan’s expression didn’t change. He took his dagger and cut the ropes binding her hands and feet.

Seeing that he had no intention of killing her, Yu Qian finally let out a sigh of relief.

Ignoring her, Yang Fan stood and turned to leave.

This was the first time he’d ever done a good deed and saved someone. Of course, it was really those three fools’ own fault for running into him.

“Wait! Hold on!” Yu Qian called out as she saw him about to go.