C8 Reaching a Dead End

After examining the knife for quite some time, Jing Chong still couldn't discern any further clues. With no other option, he reluctantly stopped focusing on the knife and once again crawled under the bed to look for any trace of evidence. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find any more clues. Frustrated, he began to ransack the room, flipping over boxes and emptying cabinets in a haphazard frenzy.

He reasoned that if his father had managed to conceal a knife within the bed, then he must be hiding other secrets as well. Uncovering his father's true identity would be the key to tracking down the real perpetrator. Once this thought took hold, it became unstoppable. Jing Chong flipped his parents' bed over, nearly dismantling it in the process, but his search yielded nothing.

Undeterred, he opened a wooden cabinet at the head of the bed, carelessly tossing aside the blankets and clothes inside. Yet, his efforts were in vain; he found nothing. Defeated, Jing Chong slumped to the ground, his posture one of utter dejection, his face etched with frustration. "Nothing at all? Why is there nothing?" he lamented.

In a burst of anger, he grabbed the wooden stick he had thrown to the floor and swung it at the wall, where the cabinet had been. A sharp "crack" rang out. "Is it hollow?" he wondered.

Quick-witted, Jing Chong darted forward and tapped lightly on the wall, confirming that this section was indeed different. Elated, he seized the long knife he had set aside and began to hack at the wall. Surprisingly, the blade, though it appeared rusted, was incredibly sharp. After just one strike, the hollow wall broke open with a "crack," revealing a small square hole as a brick fell away.

The hole was just large enough to fit a hand. Jing Chong, with his small hands, easily reached inside and felt around, soon touching something soft. A rush of excitement filled him as he withdrew his hand to find a roll of yellow silk cloth, exquisitely made and smooth to the touch. Jing Chong had never encountered such fabric before. His mouth agape in astonishment, he couldn't help but exclaim, "What is this?" Trembling, he unfolded the yellow silk to reveal a white lining intricately adorned with continuous, flowing script—a dense array of tiny characters.

His pupils gleamed, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Before him were four imposing characters: "War Wolf Saber Technique!"

This was a saber technique exclusive to the great tribal families! In an instant, Jing Chong's head buzzed, and he nearly passed out. He could never have imagined his father possessing such a rare artifact.

Why had his father, a martial artist, never demonstrated his skills in front of him?

Could his incredible strength be due to his martial arts training?

And was the deadly trouble that had befallen him somehow connected to this saber technique?

...

Question after question flooded Jing Chong's mind, yet he found no answers. What he did know was that his father had his reasons. His father had only wanted to live out his days in peace, without dragging his family into troubled waters. His efforts were all for the sake of a peaceful existence.

It made sense now why, on that fateful night, his father had insisted that he must survive and not seek vengeance.

Surviving on one's own was truly a challenge!

A pang of sorrow hit him as he pondered his father's simple yet profound longing. What kind of experiences had led his father to such a mindset? He was willing to forsake everything for the sake of tranquility. Was life really that harsh?

Within his young soul, the deep enigmas of life clashed with his fiery spirit, and his gaze bore the weariness of ages far beyond his years.

"I must uncover my father's true identity and carry on his legacy!" he resolved.

But unlike his father, Jing Chong did not yearn for peace. His heart burned with the fervor that every vigorous young man should possess.

"The War Wolf Saber Technique... it seems fate has chosen me," he whispered, his eyes blazing with a blood-red Blood Aura. He fixated on the saber and the yellow silk scroll in his hands, his forehead veins subtly throbbing, his breath quickening. In that moment, he was the embodiment of a restrained wolf.

"Crack!"

Suddenly, the sound of the door latch breaking echoed from outside.

Startled from his tumultuous thoughts, Jing Chong's body jolted. Almost instinctively, he tucked the yellow silk scroll into his chest, grabbed the straw mat by his bed, wrapped the saber within it, and secured it at his waist.

"Squeak!"

Another faint creak echoed as the wooden door gently opened, and the sound of hurried footsteps approached, barely stirring the dust. Jing Chong, with his heightened senses from past traumas, quickly took notice. "Someone's here!"

He had become exceptionally sensitive after enduring great hardship, so he remained silent instead of calling out.

Peering slowly through the window bars, Jing Chong realized that night had fallen, the sky now a tapestry of stars. The dim light inside had masked the onset of darkness.

"Shh! The kid is in the room!"

A voice, familiar to Jing Chong, filtered through the window, causing his nerves to instantly tighten. "Who is it?" he wondered, his mind churning with the realization that trouble had found him once again.

The footsteps grew stealthier, and through the window, he could sense the thick, murderous intent of the approaching figures.

"This is bad. Those people didn't leave Dawnbreak. The day's events have drawn the murderers' attention again. They're intent on eradicating their problems at the root!"

A chill ran through Jing Chong's heart. There weren't many of them, but he was certain they were the ones who had killed his parents. Shaking, he drew the knife he had wrapped in a straw mat and crawled towards the door, determined to strike before the enemy could reach him.

As danger loomed, Jing Chong's mind sharpened, and he became eerily calm. He knew what he had to do. The priority was not to confront his foes head-on, for he was too vulnerable.

Escape!

That was the singular thought dominating his mind.

"Crack! Bang!"

A dull thud resounded as the ajar door was abruptly flung open. A silhouette darted under the fluorescent glow, a gleaming cleaver in hand, charging into the room. Jing Chong, seizing the moment, raised his own blade high and brought it down upon the intruder.

"Clang!"

The sound of metal on metal rang out as the blades met, the force of the collision buckling Jing Chong's legs, sending him to his knees, his blade nearly slipping from his grasp.

"Damn, so you were hiding here!"

The man in black was invigorated, his eyes glinting with malice as he let out a curse and swung his blade down towards Jing Chong's head with all his might. If the blade had truly connected, Jing Chong would have stood no chance of survival.

Driven by a desperate will to live, Jing Chong found untapped strength, kicked off the door frame, and wriggled beneath the assailant's legs. He tumbled across the ground, ending up in a disheveled heap near the back window.

"Damn, not only are you lucky, but you've also gotten better!" the man in black exclaimed, taken aback by his missed strike. Yet, he recovered swiftly, spinning around with reflexive speed.

His face twisted into a snarl, his eyes burning with ferocity, he raised his long blade, which now gleamed with an electric radiance. He lunged with the speed of a thunderclap, aiming for Jing Chong's left chest. This time, the man in black was truly exerting his full power.

The attack was so sudden, so swift, that it left no time for thought, only the flash of light before impact.

A chilling gleam of the blade was all that was seen before the icy edge drew perilously close. As Jing Chong's pupils dilated in alarm, the merciless blade plunged into his chest...

In that instant, Jing Chong felt the grim presence of death looming over him.