North Nam An was not quiet, but not because of the zombies.
It was because there were too many living people. From the ruined rooftops, small sparks of light flickered and died. Not torches, but the glowing ends of cigarettes. People on the roofs were watching them, making no effort to hide.
Thuong Sinh knew. He did not avoid them; he walked straight ahead.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" Lam Thanh Moc asked.
"Yes."
"To lure them out?"
"To clear them."
The two words fell, cold to the point of being devoid of emotion.
The first bullet was fired from the second floor of a residential house. The shooter did not aim for the head, but for the legs, intending to take them alive.
A mistake—perhaps his fatal one.
Thuong Sinh stomped hard on the ground.
The sword left his hand, not flying in its usual trajectory, but veering slightly to embed itself firmly into the wall directly above the man who had fired.
A heavy "thud" sounded above him, startling the gunman. His scream was choked halfway. By the time he regained his composure and looked at the previous position, Thuong Sinh was gone; he was already standing beneath the building.
Thuong Sinh didn't need to take the stairs; with a single leap, his figure tore through the wind and lunged onto the second floor.
Before the shooter could retreat, his neck was snapped by Thuong Sinh—bloodless, swift, and clean. On the ground floor, four others rushed in from both sides, armed with knives, iron rods, and makeshift guns.
"Kill him—!"
No one had time to finish their cry. Thuong Sinh dropped into their midst, his sword spinning in a circle. He used no complex forms, no wind blades, only stabbing exactly where a human is weakest.
The neck. The heart. The groin. The shoulder joint.
Each time he withdrew the blade, blood splattered onto him, soaking into his Gale Leather Armor and his face.
The True Essence in his body did not reject it; it was absorbing. Human blood essence was entirely different from zombies—it was more alive, heavier, more poisonous. A scorching current spread along his meridians, and his dantian vibrated slightly, as if expanding.
Thuong Sinh felt it clearly.
The deviant path devours human blood faster.
He did not stay his hand, he asked no questions, and he left no one wounded.
The last man fell to his knees, hands raised, face smeared with tears and snot.
"I was only following—"
The sword pierced his mouth. His head was pinned firmly to the wall.
Silence.
Lam Thanh Moc stood at the mouth of the alley.
She had never killed a person, though she had witnessed it. But this kind of killing... it wasn't madness; it was cold. So very cold.
Thuong Sinh stepped out from the pile of corpses, blood dripping from his sword onto the floor. He wasn't even breathing hard; he simply wiped his blade.
"These are the outer layer. He said Hắc Tước (The Black Sparrow) has at least three bases."
"You plan to—" she stopped.
"Kill them all."
It wasn't an emotional impulse, just a plan. In his current state, he was extremely lucid—clearer than ever before.
Lam Thanh Moc looked at him for a long time, finally saying only: "You are changing."
"Yes."
"Aren't you afraid?"
Thuong Sinh raised his head. His gaze was different now—not blood-red, but deep.
"I am afraid. But I am more afraid of being weak."
A whistle rang out from the distance—a signal to assemble.
The Black Sparrow had realized.
Thuong Sinh drove his sword into the ground and closed his eyes for a moment. The blood essence around his body did not dissipate; instead, it swirled and pressed into his meridians.
His realm did not increase, but his deviant foundation thickened.
He opened his eyes.
The Black Sparrow's men did not retreat; they surrounded him. From both ends of North Street, more and more figures appeared. They were not a disorganized mess like the previous bandits. Some held handguns, some had physical-enhancement Abilities, and some had somber gazes and auras as cold as thin blades.
Thuong Sinh stood alone at the intersection.
He did not look for an escape route; he was waiting.
"You don't need—" Lam Thanh Moc started to speak, but he raised his hand to stop her.
"Stand behind."
His voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Watch."
She froze.
The leader of the Black Sparrow chuckled softly, signaling with his hand.
"Kill him. He dares to break into our territory and cause chaos."
Without hesitation or negotiation, three men lunged forward.
Thuong Sinh did not draw his sword. He placed his hand on his own wrist.
A thin cut appeared—not deep, but the blood flowing out was not red. It was deep purple, thick, and carried a nauseatingly pungent stench.
Lam Thanh Moc's eyes widened.
"Thuong Sinh—!"
Too late. He flicked his hand.
The blood hit the ground, transforming into a thin purple mist.
The first man who inhaled it felt his pupils contract violently. Before he could scream, his flesh corroded from the inside out, veins bulging like black tree roots. He collapsed, convulsing, foaming at the mouth.
Dead in less than three seconds.
The second man turned to flee, but the toxic gas clung to his back, spreading as fast as ink dropped into water. He shrieked, clawing at his own throat until he no longer resembled a human.
The third man knelt, crying and crawling.
"Don't—please don't—"
Thuong Sinh stepped forward, but did not stab.
He simply placed his hand on the man's head.
The toxic blood seeped into the skin.
The man began to dissolve slowly. In less than three seconds, he had completely disintegrated into ash. Thuong Sinh flicked his hand as the man vanished entirely from this world.
A deathly silence fell over everything.
The Black Sparrow felt fear to this extent for the first time, as did his subordinates. No one dared take another step.
Thuong Sinh stood amidst the purple mist, his eyes empty, purple blood dripping onto his sleeve.
He turned, looking directly at Lam Thanh Moc.
Lam Thanh Moc trembled—not from the poison, but because the man before her was self-destructing.
"You are insane..."
Her voice cracked and broke.
Thuong Sinh did not reply. He turned back toward the Black Sparrow.
"Get out."
Not a single soul dared to advance.
They retreated.
When the intersection held only the scent of blood and fading toxic smoke, Lam Thanh Moc stepped forward and slapped him—a very hard slap.
The sound echoed throughout the alley. Thuong Sinh was stunned.
She was shaking, tears streaming down her face, her voice shattered.
"What do you think I followed you for?"
"For strength?"
"For safety?!"
She wept, hiding nothing.
"You want me to be afraid of you, don't you?"
Thuong Sinh said nothing.
"You want me to stay away, don't you?!"
She grabbed his collar, scolding him to his face for the first time.
"You think if you turn yourself into a monster, I'll just leave?!"
"You think I can't see through you?!"
He bowed his head. The toxic blood within him hissed, wanting to overflow again. But he forced it down—very slowly, very painfully.
Lam Thanh Moc drew close, pressing against him. So close that if he leaned just a little, he could touch her. Her voice dropped, trembling slightly, almost pleading.
"Don't make me look at you like this anymore..."
Thuong Sinh stood frozen.
In his mind was a chaotic, frenzied mess. Deviant thoughts were screaming, urging him to sweep away everything in his path; the purple blood in his veins was still boiling, demanding to be let out. He looked down at his hands—hands that were no longer clean, full of toxic fluid and resentment. Then he looked into her eyes, blurred with tears.
He had never feared death, but at this moment, standing before Lam Thanh Moc, he feared that the poisonous purple mist would accidentally touch her. He feared that the monster part of him would defile the only person who still looked at him as a human being.
Thuong Sinh closed his eyes. For the first time since he had stepped onto this path, he took a step back for the person in front of him. The purple blood on his hands dried. He stopped the circulation, and the blood essence gradually dissipated. Finally, he bowed his head.
Thuong Sinh stood still for a long time—so long that Lam Thanh Moc thought he would turn his back on her as he always had before. But finally, he reached out to wipe the remaining traces of purple blood from his wrist, his movements slow, almost intentional, so that she could see him forcing it down.
The blood essence within him, which had been surging and wanting to overflow again, was now being forcibly suppressed. He pushed it down so brutally that his meridians throbbed with pain—not using willpower alone, but using his own physical body as a cage.
The deviant intent in his dantian was like a mass of living blood, compressed to the point of contraction, repeatedly slamming against his meridians, screaming to erupt. The blood poison swirled, wanting to spill through his pores. He pushed back, using True Essence to violently crush it down. It was like stuffing a dying beast back into an iron cage.
Inside him, wordless thoughts echoed: Just one more kill, just a little more, you've already come this far, why stop now?
Thuong Sinh opened his eyes. His voice was low and hoarse, suppressing the pain spreading through his body.
"I will still walk this path."
He did not avoid her gaze.
"I don't intend to turn back, either."
Lam Thanh Moc clenched her fists.
"But..."
He paused for a beat before continuing.
"I will not let it devour me in front of you."
It wasn't out of fear, and certainly not regret. It was because, for the first time, among all the things he was willing to trade, there was something he did not want to lose.
The toxic blood gradually settled. The deviant intent did not disappear; it was only pressed deeper, locked within his body like a blade returned to its sheath.