Chapter Fifty-Five: You Cannot Kill Me

Liu Yu and Zhao Bin both felt a surge of tension at the same time.

Shen Ye smiled faintly. “What’s wrong? Are you two ready to die here?”

Suddenly, Liu Yu spoke up. “No, no, you can’t kill me.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Shen Ye asked, his tone genuinely curious.

“I’m not yet fourteen. I can’t be held criminally responsible. Not even a court could sentence me. That’s the law, that’s the law. I’m innocent—no one can kill me. Even if I killed Teacher Li Lianyu, I’m still innocent.” The more Liu Yu spoke, the more composed he became, as though he had discovered an invincible talisman to guarantee his life.

“Yes, we’re innocent—we’re minors!” Zhao Bin quickly nodded in agreement.

Shen Ye couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Not bad, not bad. That’s quite the argument. But you need to understand something—I’m not the court. When I choose to kill, it’s my own decision. If I want to kill you, I will.”

“I am not here to enforce the law.”

“I am here to carry out justice on behalf of heaven.”

“Enough talk.” Shen Ye sneered coldly.

Liu Yu and Zhao Bin, it must be said, were ruthless.

They exchanged a glance.

Then!

Liu Yu whipped out a wooden stick over a foot long and swung it straight at Shen Ye. After entering the reformatory, he’d found no real weapons, so he’d broken off a bench leg and hidden it as his weapon.

Zhao Bin pulled out an identical bench leg and swung it at Shen Ye as well.

They were determined to kill Shen Ye first.

Indeed, they had the viciousness for it.

Two against one, facing a grown man—if they relied on that ferocity, they might just succeed.

In that moment, it was as if they were reliving the brutal attack on Teacher Li Lianyu—all that violence and adrenaline surging within them, making their hearts race faster, filling them with excitement.

But the man they faced now was Shen Ye—a figure whose physical prowess was nothing short of monstrous. He dodged their first strikes with ease. Then, in a flash, his hands shot out and seized the right hands of both Liu Yu and Zhao Bin. With a sudden squeeze, he commanded, “Drop it!”

The pain was overwhelming; both boys let go simultaneously.

Now, each of their right hands bore five deep finger marks, pressed so far into their flesh they didn’t spring back. There was even a faint sound of bone cracking.

They were in agony, and for the first time, looked at Shen Ye with real fear. Only now did they truly comprehend the terror of the Chopstick Demon—the power was simply inhuman.

Both began to retreat steadily, their nature revealed: when confronted by the strong, they cowered; when facing the weak, they were like devils.

They shouted desperately, “We’re not fourteen! You can’t kill us! You can’t kill us!”

The two bench legs fell directly into Shen Ye’s hands.

Shen Ye had no interest in further words. He casually tossed aside one of the sticks, keeping only one, then looked at Liu Yu and Zhao Bin, shook his head, and sighed.

Suddenly, he lunged forward like an arrow, raising the stick.

Swift, fierce, ruthless, precise.

One blow brought absolute freedom! Sheer exhilaration!

Good is rewarded with good, evil with evil!

Retribution is certain—it is only a matter of time.

…

After dealing with the two of them, Shen Ye suddenly felt a powerful sense of danger.

For the first time in his life, he encountered such a feeling.

It was as if, deep in a forest, a tiger was stalking him.

The majesty of a tiger is not as simple as what you see in a zoo.

That chill ran down his spine, straight from his backbones.

It was as though, in the darkness, a tiger was preparing to pounce.

Shen Ye’s hands stopped moving, and he slowly shifted his stance.

Both hands gripped the stick. His left foot was slightly lower, right leg higher, muscles taut and ready.

In this posture, he could unleash his full strength at any moment, striking at any enemy.

“You’re a remarkable kid, aren’t you? You actually sensed the killing intent I just let slip. Not bad.” An aged voice rang out.

From the darkness emerged an old man, age indeterminate, hair snow-white, face deeply wrinkled, dressed in tattered clothes. On the front of his garment were three distinctive pockets, and in his hand, he held a heavy black staff. The old man exuded an air of decay; his years were clearly many—he looked at least seventy or eighty.

Shen Ye’s gaze lingered on those three special pockets on the ragged man’s chest.

That, too, revealed the man’s identity.

The old beggar looked Shen Ye over. “You’re quite something—sensing my murderous intent, and showing no mercy to those two beasts. Not sentimental, you strike when it’s time. Very good. If you hadn’t killed my disciple, I would truly admire you. What a pity—unfortunately, you are destined to die by my hand.”

“I killed your disciple? Who?” Shen Ye asked.

“Li Jinguo,” the old beggar replied.

“So it was him—a child trafficker, fit only for death at the hands of the people.” Shen Ye smiled faintly. “But, seeing those three pockets on your chest reminds me of something. After killing Li Jinguo, I found a book on him describing the world of martial artists. It claimed that, hidden in the shadows of today’s world, there’s still a martial underworld. In that world, there are ten great sects: the Demon Palace of the White Mountains and Black Waters in the Northeast; the Sword Sect of the Son of Heaven near Xi’an; the Northern Shaolin near Kaifeng…”

“Southern Shaolin in FJ; Emei Sect in SC; Wudang in HB…”

“Along the southeast coast, there are the West Lake Sect and Stone Gate Sect. In HN, there’s the Beggar Clan…”

“And the South Sea Sword Sect, isolated in the southern seas.”

“Of the ten great sects, the Beggar Clan is unique. Apart from ordinary disciples, anyone of status wears pockets on their chest, from one to nine—the more pockets, the higher their status and skill.”

“I used to think this was nonsense. How could such a martial world exist in modern times?”

“But now, seeing you with three pockets on your chest… perhaps it really does exist.” Shen Ye gripped his stick tightly, his stance wary, his gaze fixed intently on the old beggar.

The old beggar, hair like frost, was momentarily taken aback. Clearly, he hadn’t expected Shen Ye to ask such a question. “You’re asking me this? You’re not one of the martial world?”

“I suppose I’m not,” Shen Ye nodded in acknowledgment.

“Not a martial artist, yet you killed my disciple. Incredible…” The old beggar seemed genuinely moved. “I’m Lu, known as Old Beggar Lu, a three-pocket elder of the Beggar Clan. The man you killed, Li Jinguo, the leader of the child traffickers, was my disciple.”

Shen Ye nodded. “So that’s how it is. I kill the apprentice, and now the master comes.”

“That’s right. My disciple always behaved himself. Even if he made a mistake, a lesson would have been enough. You disregarded the rules of the martial world and killed him outright.” Suddenly, Old Beggar Lu slammed his hand down on the table before him. With a thunderous crack, the massive, imposing desk fractured along numerous lines. “I’m at the end of my years—long since lost interest in the affairs of the martial world. But you went too far, and now I have no choice but to come myself.”

Shen Ye frowned. “A lesson would have been enough? Rules of the martial world? Hahaha… Do you know what your disciple did? Child trafficking—such depravity must be met with death. Lu, you really have grown senile.”

“Senile, am I? How ridiculous. Child trafficking is hardly a serious matter. I was born at the end of the Qing dynasty. I’ve seen the chaos of warlords, the war of resistance, the civil war—I’ve witnessed too much. In troubled times, child trafficking is nothing. In times of famine, I’ve even seen people swap children to eat.” Lu sneered. “No more useless talk. Since you killed my disciple, you must—die!”