Chapter 11: The Harvest of Life and the Cutting of Fate

Chapter 11: Life's Severance

On a drizzly morning, the sky was still dim. Lin Juemin quietly dressed and slipped out of his home, careful not to make a sound. He dared not look back, fearing that if he did, he would lose the courage to abandon his pregnant wife.

Unbeknownst to Lin Juemin, since the day he left, Chen Yiying had been waiting for him at the alley entrance, sheltering beneath an oil-paper umbrella.

Days passed.

News of Lin Juemin’s death arrived.

Chen Yiying sat motionless in the house all day, unable to believe he was truly gone.

Just as she was about to end her own life, her in-laws stopped her.

“If you die, what will become of the children?”

Tears streaming down her face, Chen Yiying promised to endure.

A year later, Chen Yiying left as well.

At the same time, Qin Yuan withdrew from the illusory world.

Ten meters away, Chen Yiying stretched out her pale hand, a phantom letter appearing in it. She read, tears falling silently.

The tears vanished as they touched the ground.

As a ghost, even genuine tears were no longer possible.

After a long moment, she bowed deeply.

“Thank you, benefactor.”

The cold aura around them dissipated instantly.

This meant Chen Yiying’s emotional knot had been untied.

For a spirit, unraveling such a knot meant she was ready to vanish.

“This is what I’m meant to do,” Qin Yuan said, bowing in return.

A heroic woman—sounds noble when spoken aloud.

The truth?

Ah, better not to say.

Chen Yiying smiled with acceptance; her figure flickered like a candle in the wind, then faded away.

“Wait.”

Qin Yuan suddenly remembered he hadn’t asked how she became a ghost.

He had been in this world for two years.

He’d seen many dead, but never a ghost—clearly, she was different.

“One moment.”

When those words escaped, Qin Yuan understood.

Missing the moment was fine; time would always be on his side.

Half a month later.

At the One Smile Inn.

Qin Yuan once again met Quan, the gang leader who looked less than trustworthy yet was impeccably dressed.

The Beggars’ Sect was divided into the Clean Garments and the Dirty Garments.

The Clean Garments were patched-up local toughs who joined the sect to avoid being bullied by martial artists.

The Dirty Garments were true beggars.

This gang leader belonged to the former.

“This time, help me find Lin’s children,” Qin Yuan said, placing two portraits on the table.

A few days earlier, Qin Yuan found Lin Yidong’s parents intending to offer some money.

The elderly couple wept, saying their two grandchildren were missing.

“Children gone?”

The gang leader was stunned.

Kidnapping children was one of the Beggars’ Sect’s trades.

He didn’t do it himself, but some under his command did.

“What happened?”

Qin Yuan sensed something amiss and asked suspiciously.

“Brother Zhongda, wait a moment, I’ll be right back,” the gang leader said, then left the room.

Qin Yuan sipped his wine, listening to the surrounding chatter.

Taverns and teahouses were the era’s hubs for folk news.

Of course, most were unverified rumors.

“Have you heard? The Huanglian Cult joined forces with the Imperial Guards to battle the martial artists of the Haixi States, killing thousands in a single fight.”

“Good. It’s about time those killers were wiped out.”

“Wiped out? The Huanglian Cult and Imperial Guards lost tens of thousands. The capital is barely holding on.”

“Who told you that?”

“A carrier pigeon from the capital.”

“Any other news?”

“Yes, a few days ago, the Empress Dowager led the emperor and a group of princes and ministers on a western hunt, leaving that bastard Minister Li in charge.”

“The enemy is at the gates, and yet the Empress Dowager and emperor fled.”

…

Elsewhere.

The gang leader kicked open the door of an unremarkable courtyard, his expression one of righteous anger as he strode inside.

With a flurry of footsteps, a group of beggars armed with sticks poured out. Seeing their leader, they sighed in relief—then tensed again.

Judging by his face, he had come to lay down the law.

“Did you kidnap the children?”

The leader glared, demanding answers.

Not out of a sense of justice, but because this concerned Lin Yidong’s children.

Lin Yidong was a member of a powerful band of fighters.

The man called Zhuge Yi, tasked with finding Lin Yidong’s family, was no weakling—he may have even mastered the invincible Vajra martial art.

“No, absolutely not!” an older disciple shouted, denying the accusation.

But a few younger, less scrupulous beggars betrayed them.

They had indeed done it.

The gang leader sneered, effortlessly leaping across rooftops to the backyard, where he found a cellar.

He lifted the heavy iron cover.

Inside were numerous toddlers.

Two had already suffocated.

“Please spare me, leader, I was wrong.”

“I was blinded by greed; I won’t do it again.”

“Considering all these years we’ve served you, please show mercy.”

…

The disciples following behind were terrified, dropping to their knees and sobbing pitifully.

“A pack of reckless dogs,” the gang leader cursed, raining down punches and kicks until several spat blood and broke bones, one even fainted on the spot.

Even though they were brothers, the gang leader felt a twinge of pity.

“Once this is over, I’ll settle the score with you filthy wretches.”

Having spoken harshly, he turned to release the children.

“Which of you are Chen Yiying’s children?”

No child answered.

Were they too frightened to speak? Or were they not here?

The province was vast; the gang leader himself didn’t believe only one group of traffickers operated here.

“Who among you is Chen Yiying’s child?”

He asked again, softer this time.

“Someone asked me to find Chen Yiying’s child. If you don’t speak, I’ll leave.”

A dirty eight-year-old, clutching a sleeping two-year-old, whispered from the corner.

“My mother’s name is Chen Yiying.”

“Come up, don’t be afraid.”

The gang leader offered a gentle smile and a hand.

Though he didn’t look like a good man, his scholarly attire softened his demeanor.

The child hesitated, then stepped forward, extending her grimy hand.

The large hand clasped the small one.

Suddenly, the gang leader’s expression changed.

Not good—he’d been poisoned.

It was the soul-seizing toxin.

Those treacherous bastards.

He should’ve seen it coming.

A violent wave of dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him; filled with terror, regret, and rage, he collapsed to the ground.

“Brother Qiao’s soul-seizing toxin is formidable—an eighth-rank master felled with a single strike.”

“I always opposed Brother Qiao leaving the poison guild.”

The beggars shamelessly flattered.

“Enough talk, kill that Quan bastard quickly. The antidote’s insufficient. If he recovers, we’re all dead.”

Brother Qiao frowned deeply—Quan Guanqing’s reaction was off. Among the children was likely the offspring of a powerful figure.

The dozen beggars’ faces darkened as they hastily drew knives and viciously stabbed the unconscious gang leader.

An esteemed eighth-rank master was humiliated to death in moments.

“That worthless bastard Quan Guanqing—he doesn’t want to get rich himself and won’t let his brothers prosper either.”

A younger beggar spat contemptuously on the corpse.

“Enough chatter. Destroy the face, burn the clothes, and send the body to the bun shop.”

Brother Qiao’s face was grim as he issued orders.

His deep gaze swept over the group.

Later, he would wipe them all out.

Then, he would pin the child kidnappings on these very people.

(End of chapter)