The snow ape split in two. The halves hit the snow, one after the other, blood steaming in the cold.
Shao Chengfeng and Feng Yi'an stepped back. Ice crawled up their spines. Could the captain really handle this boy?
Fu Entao's face tightened, but his attack never faltered. He read the opening Qin Ming had left when he dodged the ape — a sidelong gap in his guard — and brought his long blade down in a sweeping horizontal arc. The force was immense.
Qin Ming had predicted it. His left hand swung the iron spear behind his back, catching the blade on the shaft. The impact rang out — and he used it. The recoil launched him forward, turning Fu Entao's own power into acceleration.
Anyone else would have coughed blood from the shock alone. Qin Ming landed clean at his target.
The stocky patroller's hair stood on end. The boy was coming straight for him — moving like a mountain beast. A blade light swept in before he could think.
He raised his own blade to trade blows. Two clashes. Three. His fingers tore open between the knuckles, blood slicking the grip. He couldn't hold.
A flash of steel in the fire spring's glow. His head left his shoulders.
The body dropped with a wet thud.
Qin Ming pivoted. The iron spear still held Fu Entao's blade at his back. He looked at Feng Yi'an and Shao Chengfeng, eyes flat with killing intent.
The two men's nerves broke. They were wolves by nature — cunning, vicious, poison-tongued. But this boy didn't negotiate. Didn't threaten. Just killed. It made their skin crawl.
Fu Entao felt the pressure too. Every clash with the spear sent numbness crawling up his arms. He wanted to run — to vanish into the black timber — but showing his back meant death. He'd seen what a thrown spear could do.
Qin Ming spoke. "Seven heads on this mountain. Four are down. You three are what's left."
Fu Entao's jaw clenched. The boy had counted the Golden Mastiff and the snow ape alongside his patrol — had ranked them with animals.
Shao Chengfeng and Feng Yi'an gripped their weapons tighter. In any other moment, such an insult would earn a blade through the speaker's gut.
That was exactly what Qin Ming wanted. He sensed their fear. If they ran, he might not catch a Second New Lifer like Fu Entao. He needed their anger hotter than their survival instinct.
It worked. The insult burned through Fu Entao's caution. No patrol captain in this territory had ever dared shame him this way.
"Is he the one from Twin Tree Village?" Fu Entao asked behind him.
Feng Yi'an nodded. The bearded man had mentioned Qin Ming before — a boy with a Golden Foundation, perfect bait for the Blood Bamboo Grove.
Fu Entao's voice went cold. "Fine. When this is done, we wipe Twin Tree Village. Every man, woman, and child. The mountain sweep has started — a beast breaking out of the deep ranges and slaughtering a village wouldn't surprise anyone."
His smile carried the stink of blood. He raised his long blade.
Qin Ming wasn't angry. He'd poked the wound on purpose — keep them fighting, keep them from flight. Then he poured fuel on the fire.
"Did I lie? Redcloud City pays you rich wages. Villagers revere you. They cut their own fire-field yields to grow Black Moon for you. And what do you give back? You drain the fire spring dry, squeeze every drop of spiritual essence, and damn the famine that follows. You kill villagers for leverage — their lives worth less than a deer, less than your pet hound. You don't deserve to stand with the old captain or any honest patroller. You're worse than the beasts."
He spoke without heat. Quiet. Even.
But it made Fu Entao's knuckles white on the grip. The captain surged forward without another word.
Qin Ming struck first. The iron spear in his left hand moved like a living thing — tip flickering, afterimages tearing through the blizzard. When Fu Entao twisted away, the spear punched through a larch trunk behind him. Qin Ming wrenched the shaft. The tree snapped.
His chopping knife followed.
Steel rang on steel. The forest came apart around them. Trees toppled. A cabin exploded when they carved through it. The destruction was staggering.
Fu Entao was nearly two meters tall. He'd always been the predator. Now he gasped, white steam pouring from his curly hair, arms going numb. And the boy kept coming.
He noticed something. The boy's speed had a limit — he was faster on the draw than on the chase. Fu Entao could dodge. And when Feng Yi'an and Shao Chengfeng exploded from the flanks, the opening arrived.
Metal shrieked. Qin Ming blocked Shao Chengfeng's iron spear with the chopping knife, deflected Feng Yi'an's blade with the spine. Fu Entao saw his chance — both hands on the long blade, raining down strikes with everything he had.
He felt the difference. Single-handed, the iron spear had lost its crushing power. The boy was being pushed back.
"Full force! Kill him!" Fu Entao roared.
The three pressed in. Qin Ming's knife danced between the two flankers while the spear held off Fu Entao — barely. He chose trades that forced the captain back: letting the blade fall toward him while the spear tip jabbed forward, trading damage for initiative.
Fu Entao grinned. He'd never lost a blood trade. He leapt, avoiding the center mass, and swung down with everything.
The spear was too low to raise in time. Its tip punched into Fu Entao's thigh, through and through.
The captain's face twitched — but he was airborne, and his blade would split the boy in half.
Qin Ming's right hand was still busy with the other two. He let go of the spear. His left arm rose — bare, exposed — to take the blade.
Fu Entao sneered. Arm and boy would both break.
Feng Yi'an and Shao Chengfeng smiled. They'd seen the captain's full-power chop. Nothing survived it.
Metal screamed. A high, ringing note that didn't belong to a blade biting flesh.
Qin Ming's sleeve tore. Underneath — patrol armor. Not one layer. Three. Cruder than Fu Entao's custom plate, but layered, it held.
The blade stopped.
Fu Entao landed. His leg buckled — the spear still buried in his thigh, blood sheeting out. He couldn't stand.
Feng Yi'an turned and ran. No hesitation. He knew — the patrol was finished.
Shao Chengfeng followed. He'd realized too late: the boy's weakness had been a lure.
Qin Ming snatched an iron spear from the ground and hurled it. At this range, the throw was perfect. The spear caught Feng Yi'an through the back and pinned him to the earth.
The man screamed. Still alive. Still pinned.
Qin Ming was already chasing the other. His speed couldn't match Fu Entao's — but Shao Chengfeng was no Second New Lifer.
The man turned, swinging his iron spear in desperation. Qin Ming's knife took his right arm off at the elbow. The spear fell. Qin Ming picked it up and drove it through Shao Chengfeng's gut, pinning him to the frozen ground.
Qin Ming stood in the clearing. "If we'd fought head-on from the start — no escape attempts — I'd have finished you faster. I had to split my attention. If even one of you got away, this whole operation fails."
Fu Entao leaned on his blade, choking on fury.
"Besides," Qin Ming said, "fighting three of you while distracted was hard. I only just had my New Life. Cut me some slack."
Fu Entao's face froze. His heart shook. He couldn't accept it.
"You haven't even had your Second New Life." Feng Yi'an coughed blood, laughing through the pain. He knew — it was over. He'd met a monster.