Chapter Ten: Possessed by the Butcher of Men

Everyone in the room was left speechless by Yang Meng’s words. Wasn’t he an old hand in society? Hadn’t he suffered enough setbacks already? These days, money talks. Forget being bullied by the wealthy—even if you’re just a little late delivering takeout, you might get scolded like a dog and still have to smile and apologize! “Don’t bully the poor youth?” Ha. Isn’t that just a self-deceiving slogan? Most of the time, “poor youth” simply becomes “poor middle-aged,” then “poor old,” and if you get bullied, that’s the end of it—what can you do? Is it easy for the poor just to survive? Even if you have a little backbone, it gets worn down soon enough. How many people in this world can claim to live without feeling crushed? What was wrong with Yang today? Had he lost his mind?

Of course, Yang Meng hadn’t lost his mind. He was just confident now!

Earlier, when Zhou the Miser had asked him what he was muttering about, Yang Meng had actually been conducting a little experiment—the “Soul Summoning Spell,” a technique inherited from the Great Emperor of the Eastern Peak!

When Zhou mentioned that Feng Tao was bringing people over, Yang Meng wasn’t stupid; he knew they meant to rough him up and teach him a lesson. Always plan for the worst, prepare for the best. So Yang Meng had secretly used one of the few minor spells from the legacy of the Eastern Peak Palace that he could currently control—the “Soul Summoning Spell.”

The basic spells he had mastered were all standard tools from the netherworld, things like the “Soul Summoning Spell,” “Ghost Sealing Art,” “Exorcism Technique,” and so on—the sort of things underworld messengers used when walking in the mortal realm.

These spells might seem commonplace, but their creators were anything but: they were developed by the great Pangu himself, the grandmaster of the arts.

What was Pangu most renowned for? Spatial sorcery! Otherwise, how could he split heaven from earth? How could he open the gates of the netherworld? How else could the messengers of the dead roam the human world to harvest souls?

Yang Meng was the Eastern Peak Emperor, with millions of ghostly soldiers and generals at his command—if only his spiritual power were sufficient. If he were powerful enough, he could summon his entire army at once, but for now, he could call forth only one at a time, and even then, it was random: sometimes a soldier, sometimes a general.

But even one was enough—any random ghostly soldier could thrash a group of street thugs! Of course, summoning a general would be even better for security.

When he finished the summoning spell, he was a bit disappointed: it wasn’t a general, just a soldier. But when he learned the soldier’s identity, his nose nearly pointed at the ceiling in glee—he’d hit the jackpot!

The summoned soldier was none other than the great general of Qin, Bai Qi—the man known as the “Butcher of Men!”

Throughout thousands of years of Dragon Empire history, several men have carried the title “Butcher of Men.”

For instance, Duoduo, one of the Eight Iron-Capped Princes of the early Qing, who killed over 800,000 people in the “Ten Days of Yangzhou,” averaging a kill every ten seconds; or Ran Min, who, after purging Han and then Hu people, issued the infamous “Order to Kill the Hu”—textbooks dare not even mention it. Not counting the Han he slew as Shi Hu’s adopted son, after the order was given, he killed at least 400,000 Hu and 300,000 Jie. Truly a “Butcher of Men.”

But no matter how you rank them, Bai Qi of Qin sits unchallenged at the top of the list!

During the Warring States period, there were hundreds of battles, large and small. Bai Qi alone participated in over seventy and never lost. Of the more than two million who died in all wars during that era, Bai Qi was responsible for over half! If he’s not the “Butcher of Men,” then the world has lost all sense of justice!

Because of his grievous killing karma, Bai Qi suffered severe punishment after death.

Fortunately, he was born of the military caste, and the “Saint of War” Sun Wu still held sway in the netherworld. In the end, it was Sun Wu who rescued Bai Qi and arranged for him to serve as a ghostly soldier, giving him a slightly better afterlife.

He’d fared better than many of his peers, after all. Men like Chen Tang and Gan Yanshou were still locked away in the Black Rope Hell. What good did it do to shout “Whoever offends mighty Han, however far, shall be slain!” and launch a surprise attack to kill Chanyu Zhizhi? Without the Emperor’s order, it was a crime to mobilize the troops. Victory or not, the jail cell awaited, and no one cared. Even Duoduo was still being fried in oil...

But Yang Meng cared little for these men’s fates. He only cared whether the ghostly soldier he’d summoned could handle a gang of thugs. When he found out it was Bai Qi, he was completely reassured.

He had never doubted Bai Qi’s individual combat prowess. After Shang Yang’s reforms, which Qin general hadn’t climbed up from the very bottom through countless battles? Of the four great generals of the Warring States, Bai Qi’s personal fighting skills were second only to Lian Po.

And what was Lian Po’s combat level? Universally acknowledged as on par with Xiang Yu! Could Bai Qi be any weaker? Bai Qi couldn’t take a few street punks? What a joke!

As he was quietly reveling in his good fortune, Feng Tao glared and pointed at the door, shouting at Yang Meng, “You’re fired!”

Yang Meng grinned—he’d expected this. He stood, stretched lazily, and said, “If this place won’t have me, there are plenty of others that will. If nowhere will take me, I’ll go join the Partisans! Old Liu, here’s two hundred—put me down for a share when you go visit Chen Dian.” With that, he handed the money to Old Liu and strode off without a backward glance.

Now that Yang Meng knew the “Soul Summoning Spell” worked in the mortal world, he didn’t care about the delivery job anymore. With a summoned ghost soldier, how could he not win a fighting championship? What kind of joke was that?

As soon as Yang Meng stepped out of the conference room, Feng Tao, fuming, chased after him. “Stop right there!”

Yang Meng acted as if he hadn’t heard, heading straight for the elevator—if you say go, I go? If you say stop, I stop? Who do you think you are?

“Hammer! Stop him!” Feng Tao shouted at the men outside the door. They immediately surrounded Yang Meng.

“What do you want?” Yang Meng turned back to Feng Tao.

Feng Tao sneered, “What do you think? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, my surname isn’t Feng! What are you all standing around for? I’m not paying you to do nothing—beat him within an inch of his life!”

At his words, a burly man swaggered over, eyeing Yang Meng with a tilted head. “Buddy, we’re just doing a job for the money, don’t blame us for being rough. You brought this on yourself by messing with the wrong people!”

Yang Meng suddenly raised a hand. “Wait! You’re going to beat me up?”

Everyone paused, then burst out laughing. The burly man said, “Can’t you tell? Are you stupid? Young Master Feng’s paying us to rough you up. We risk our necks for cash—simple as that!” With that, they moved in.

“Wait!” Yang Meng raised his hand again to stop them. “I just have one question—what if I hurt you while defending myself?”

Everyone froze, then laughed even harder.

The burly man pointed at his own nose. “Kid, you’re bold. All these years, I’ve never been beaten up in a fight. If you can lay a hand on me, I’ll admit defeat. Come on, I beg you, hit me!”

Feng Tao, as if hearing the world’s funniest joke, chimed in, “Yes, please, hit us!”

Everyone roared with laughter, looking at Yang Meng as if he were an idiot.

Yang Meng grinned along with them, then shook his phone. “You can’t be a delivery man without a decent phone. I’ve recorded everything you’ve said—evidence, can’t lose it. Law-abiding starts with me.”

The burly man just laughed even harder. “Kid, you think we can’t take your phone? What good is your recording?” As he spoke, he suddenly lashed out, a powerful kick aimed at Yang Meng’s stomach, shouting, “Get him!”

Decisive enough, Yang Meng thought, but he looked on with disdain. These street thugs always started fights with a straight kick to the gut or a punch to the face—so unoriginal. He’d played these games as a child. He didn’t even need Bai Qi’s power to deal with such moves—he had dozens of ways! And now, with Bai Qi’s spirit within him, how could he possibly lose?

His experience was surreal, as if watching himself from a god’s-eye view, seeing how he handled the fight. If only he had a tub of popcorn—it was like watching a 3D movie!

If that kick had been aimed at him, how would he respond? Such a kick worked on people who couldn’t fight, but for someone who’d grown up brawling in the village, there were endless ways to counter: sidestep and kick the supporting leg, or swing an arm up golf-style to knock the leg aside and send the attacker sprawling...

He’d always thought those methods were fierce enough, but after seeing Bai Qi’s actions, he realized just how merciful he’d been. Bai Qi simply sidestepped, grabbed the man’s leg, and with a vicious right elbow struck the knee—a sickening crack, a scream, and the man was on the ground clutching his leg in agony.

Everyone was stunned. Even Yang Meng drew in a sharp breath—this was brutal!

Before anyone could recover, Yang Meng, now a wolf among sheep, unleashed a storm of fists and kicks. In moments, only Feng Tao was left standing.

As Yang Meng approached, Feng Tao’s legs turned to jelly. “D-don’t come any closer! Do you know who I am?”

But at that moment, Yang Meng stopped right in front of him.

Seeing Yang Meng halt, Feng Tao let out a sigh of relief—thank goodness, the guy wasn’t going to attack. He hurriedly steadied himself and, putting on a fierce expression, snarled, “You have no idea who you’ve provoked! Turn back now while you still can—there’s still a way out. Otherwise, I guarantee you’ll die with no grave to mark you!”

He could only hope that his tough talk would intimidate Yang Meng—he knew he couldn’t handle a monster like this!