On the right side outside the door was a pedestrian street, lit by dim, flickering lights. By around ten o'clock at night, the street would be nearly deserted, and the streetlights would shut off at exactly eleven. To the left was an alley behind the mall used for loading goods; there was a single streetlamp at the end, and most of the nighttime illumination came from a nearby barbecue stall at the edge of the alley.
When Xu Bin rushed out, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps from both directions. He didn't have time to think—trusting his instincts, he ran toward the pedestrian street. Although the shop was located near the front side of the main street by the train station, judging by the time it took from when the glass was smashed to when he started chasing, if the culprit had headed toward the pedestrian street, they couldn't have made it out before he got outside.
Sure enough, Xu Bin caught sight of a figure frantically sprinting toward the exit of the pedestrian street. Under the dim light, the person noticed someone chasing from behind. There was no time to look back—they didn't need to. It was easy to guess: anyone who could give chase that quickly had to be the shop's owner.
"Lao San!"
Xu Bin shouted with fury. The figure ahead flinched and stumbled—guilty and fearful. In the empty pedestrian street under the night sky, Xu Bin's roar cracked like thunder, echoing in Lao San's ears. Panicking, Lao San tripped and fell.
With only about a dozen meters between them, that fall gave Xu Bin the chance to catch up. At that moment, three men emerged from an old Jetta parked at the far end of the pedestrian street, each holding a pick handle or a baseball bat. Hearing Lao San's cry for help, they charged forward.
Xu Bin instinctively stopped in his tracks, drew the spring-assisted knife from behind his waist, and snapped it open. From a few steps away, he stared at them with a sharp, threatening gaze. The truth was, even with the powers from the Divine Selection, even with a latent thirst for blood, he was still just an ordinary man who had only recently tasted what it meant to be strong. He might act impulsively or be forced to strike when backed into a corner, but in this standoff, he lacked that final bit of resolve. He couldn't simply charge in.
The three men hesitated, unsure whether to go at Xu Bin. Lao San got up from the ground, biting his lip hard. There was no turning back now. Maybe that brutal attack the other day had just been a drunken impulse?
Lao San prided himself on being part of the street crowd. His quasi-girlfriend—publicly considered to be his woman—had been stolen. Many of them even knew Zhong Yu. If he didn't react now, how could he ever hold his head high again? He clenched his jaw, snatched the pick handle from one of the others, and charged at Xu Bin with a roar.
Meanwhile, the other brick-thrower who had circled around the alley came back, saw the confrontation, and quickly rushed over from outside the pedestrian street, picking up a brick from the roadside as he ran.
At the same time, Zhong Yu snapped out of her shock. Realizing Xu Bin had gone after them, she panicked, worried something might happen to him, and ran out as well. She arrived just in time to see Lao San swinging the pick handle at Xu Bin's back. Xu Bin had his back to her, and she didn't notice the knife in his hand. She screamed, tears bursting from her eyes, and ran over like mad. She wasn't a cowardly girl. In that moment, she didn't think of hiding in fear—she just wanted to protect her man.
"Beat him! What are you all staring at?" the man with the brick shouted, urging his three companions forward. "What is this, the stone age? You still waiting for a fair one-on-one?"
With that, all four of them charged at once. Xu Bin had little real fighting experience. He dodged Lao San's first swing, but had to raise his arm to block the second. A jolt of pain shot through his left arm. The intense pain pushed him past hesitation—memories of being beaten by Che Dong and his men surged back.
With his right hand, he thrust the spring knife forward. It plunged straight into Lao San's stomach with a squelch. Lao San's eyes widened—he was bleeding.
The four men rushing up from behind hadn't all seen what just happened. The one with the brick, due to his angle, thought Xu Bin had merely taken the blow. He brought the brick down toward Xu Bin's neck and shoulder. Though it looked like a head strike, it was a controlled blow, meant to look vicious while minimizing real damage—he was experienced.
The pain from the brick made Xu Bin's body lurch sideways, and in the motion of pulling the knife out, the blade sliced a longer wound in Lao San's stomach. Lao San let out a scream, dropped the pick handle, and instinctively grabbed his gut, slumping down.
Zhong Yu ran over, caught Xu Bin, and saw the bloodied knife in his hand. Her mouth opened wide in shock, but her first instinct was to stand guard beside him, keeping a wary eye on the others.
Xu Bin shook her off. Even without experience, he knew the importance of projecting strength. These weren't amateurs like Che Dong's guys. They were street punks—fighting was their everyday routine. Some even made a living off brawling, riding with crews to settle disputes, with car trunks full of bats and handles. Even without regulated knives, they had plenty of street smarts on how to deal with the police.
These were not the kind of people who would scatter just because someone got stabbed. To scare them off, he had to keep up the pressure.
He gripped the knife tightly and rushed straight at the brick-wielding guy, who was now unarmed. The look in Xu Bin's eyes was not a bluff—it was deadly serious.
"Shit!"
The other two men with pick handles swung at him. They were faster and more accurate than Xu Bin due to experience.
One blow knocked him to the ground. Another man picked up the pick handle Lao San had dropped and joined the beating. The brick guy supported the bleeding Lao San and helped him limp toward the Jetta, staggering. This was learned behavior—hard-won street experience. Lao San wasn't a core member—he hadn't intended to involve these people when smashing the shop. He didn't want to pay the price or go full gangster. Being stabbed scared him stiff and also sent him into a rage. He no longer tried to stop them.
Zhong Yu couldn't even get close—one of the men kicked her down. She could only watch as Xu Bin was beaten with pick handles, screaming and crying for help. But the shops along the pedestrian street had long been closed. Even the ones that were residential wouldn't dare get involved—people didn't even open doors to watch, let alone call the police.
The security guards were all holed up in the monitoring room drinking and playing cards. Security was a daytime job—unless a monitored shop triggered an emergency alarm, they were just idle men who no one bothered.
It was close to eleven. The pedestrian street was deserted, and the surrounding roads were nearly empty. Taxis had all gathered at the train station entrance. Though it was only one block and a plaza away from the station, this area was pitch dark, with few pedestrians in sight.
Xu Bin was overwhelmed by pain—every part of his body was screaming. He felt like he had died; his body no longer responded. Getting beaten like this hurt more than he had imagined. It turned out becoming a feared figure on the streets wasn't so simple—it wasn't just about being bold. You also needed strength and grit.
"I can't lose. If I lose, all my momentum dies with it." One hand shielded his head; the other remained tightly clutched around the spring knife hidden under his body. Living by begging for mercy was never better than controlling your fate with your own hands.
After over a year on the streets, Xu Bin understood one thing most clearly: staying alive was itself a form of cultivation. How far you could go depended on your progress. Waiting for others to lift you up meant you'd never rise very far. Everything—everything—had to come from within.
Maybe they got tired, or maybe they thought Xu Bin had given up. The three attackers hesitated slightly. In that fleeting pause, Xu Bin's right hand lashed out, slicing the ankle of one man. Blood sprayed all over Xu Bin's face, but he no longer cared. Pain had dulled his senses; all he could think of was that he couldn't go down for nothing—not for himself, not for Zhong Yu, not for the pride he barely held onto.
"Argh!" Using his injured left arm to push himself up, he stabbed another man's thigh with the knife, bloodied face roaring, "You bastards, I'll kill you all!"
Two of them fell, legs wounded. One more raised his pick handle to finish Xu Bin off—but now Xu Bin was in a half-crazed state. One shred of clarity reminded him: You have the Divine Selection's gift. You're not going to die or be crippled. Neither will they. You don't need to fear a serious injury or murder charge. Fight! Reputation is earned in blood. In this world, if you want to stop being bullied, you need to be fiercer than the rest. The weak are meat for the strong. Try to live like a good man, and you'll end up kneeling to everyone.
The pick handle slammed into Xu Bin's head. He didn't dodge. He drove the knife into his attacker's shoulder, pulled it out, and stabbed again and again.
Three strikes. Then he turned to the two men on the ground and kept slashing. The three men panicked and scattered—no longer thinking of fighting back. Xu Bin had become a mad dog. A real killer.
Seeing his crazed state, Zhong Yu ran over and hugged him tightly from behind, sobbing, "Stop! Please stop—you'll kill them!"
From the Jetta, the man with the brick sat frozen. Lao San gripped a wrench but his legs were trembling—he didn't dare approach. The three who could still move picked up pick handles—not to fight, but just to protect themselves.
"Run," Xu Bin said coldly. "If I count to three, I'll start killing."