He lunged forward, trying to gather the beauty into his arms—
But what greeted him wasn’t the soft, fragrant body of a woman, but a sharp, indescribable pain.
His body, dulled by alcohol, didn’t react immediately. It wasn’t until a while later that Chen Haohui realized his arm had been slashed.
Clutching the wound, half-sobered by the pain, he stared at the girl in front of him in terror.
Just moments ago, he had seen her as a heavenly fairy descended from the skies. Now, she looked like a vengeful ghost risen from hell.
His lips trembled as he asked, “Who… who are you?”
But Qi Yuan’s hands moved faster than her mouth.
She casually hooked a stool with her foot, picked it up, and smashed it toward Chen Haohui.
Blood streamed down from his split scalp. Now he couldn’t care less about beauties—he immediately drew the blade from his waist and slashed at Qi Yuan.
With a weapon in hand, his panic lessened a bit.
But no matter how many times he struck, he couldn’t so much as touch the edge of Qi Yuan’s clothing.
She moved like a specter, evading every blow. He swung until he was out of breath, arms sore and too tired to lift the blade, yet he still hadn’t grazed her.
Only then did Chen Haohui finally feel fear.
Who was this terrifying woman—and why had she shown up in his home?
He had never crossed paths with her before!
Qi Yuan lifted her leg and lightly kicked his wrist. His hand could no longer hold the blade.
The blade clattered to the ground—only to be caught mid-air by Qi Yuan.
She smiled down at him. “That’s not how you use a blade. Let me teach you.”
Then she struck, swift and precise, bringing the blade down hard.
The room filled with noise—furniture crashing, cries of pain—but through it all, not a single person in the household thought to check on what was happening.
Not even Xu Ping.
Because this was normal.
This was how Chen Haohui was after drinking—violent, loud, breaking things. It wasn’t the first time.
If you ignored him, he’d calm down by morning. If you interfered, no one knew what he might do.
He’d once even beaten up his own father.
Qi Yuan was precise. Slash, stab, hack—each blow left a clean wound.
A maniac. A complete maniac!
Chen Haohui wailed like a dying animal. He had never hated being alive so much.
“I don’t even know who you are! I haven’t done anything to you!”
Why was she going so far?
Qi Yuan chuckled.
She bent down, gaze cool, and laughed softly. “No enmity between us? Chen Haohui, have you done so much evil you’ve forgotten your own sins?”
She reminded him.
Back when he was a thug, how many people had he driven to despair? Did he not remember?
He hadn’t killed anyone directly—but his words had.
There was a widow in the village raising her daughter alone. He’d spread vile rumors about her having an affair with him, calling her promiscuous.
The village turned on her. Eventually, the woman hanged herself. Her young daughter was left alone in the world.
Things like this—he had done many. And never once felt remorse.
Just like when he pissed on Xie Yuan in public after the Xie family fell, humiliating him without cause.
Men like him were the worst.
Qi Yuan’s smile vanished. “I used to think people like you didn’t feel pain. Turns out, you can feel fear and agony.”
Chen Haohui’s vision blurred. He’d lost too much blood.
He couldn’t even tell who this woman was—whose ghost she might be.
Desperate, he shouted, “I’m a court official! I work for the magistrate! Even Qi Wang supports me! You touch me, and you’re dead!”
Under the dim candlelight, Qi Yuan’s face was cold and expressionless.
She gave a faint “Oh?”, then squatted down, watching him curl up in terror. “No one will save you—not your magistrate, not your Qi Wang. You’ve committed too many sins. If heaven won’t punish you, I will.”
She’d lost all interest in talking. Drawing a dagger from her boot, she plunged it into his heart.
“Time’s up. Go meet the King of H*ll.”
She avoided the bone, driving the blade clean into his heart.
Chen Haohui didn’t get to utter another word. His head lolled, and his consciousness vanished.
Qi Yuan looked at his corpse indifferently, wiped the blade clean on his clothes, and leapt out the window.
—
The next morning, Xu Ping finished preparing breakfast and timidly knocked on Chen Haohui’s bedroom door. “Dear? It’s getting late…”
She knocked for a while. No response. She turned away, uneasy.
After a bit, with the sun high in the sky, she knocked again—more anxious this time.
Chen Haohui might have been reckless, but he never slacked off at work.
Had something happened?
Heart skipping a beat, she slammed the door open.
And froze.
Chen Haohui lay by the window, clothes shredded, blood soaked into the floor and long dried. His face was twisted, eyes wide open in death.
Xu Ping screamed. She stumbled back, falling hard onto the ground, staring in horror at the scene before her.
The sun was shining—but she felt colder than on the snowiest day.
Her limbs went numb with fear. Finally, she snapped out of it and screamed louder:
“Help! Someone help! There’s been a murder!”
The neighbors came running.
Soon, the house was packed with people.
Chen Haohui’s corpse shocked everyone.
This street had never seen a murder before.
Let alone one like this.
Who had such a deep grudge to butcher him in the night?
The neighbors whispered amongst themselves.
But everyone had the same unspoken thought—
Given the kind of person Chen Haohui was, he had plenty of enemies.
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