The figure staggered slightly. If one listened closely, they could hear faint yet heavy breathing.
Clearly, he had fallen into a trap and was suppressing the pain.
Judging by how he moved, his left foot or leg must have been pierced.
He was probably cursing in his heart, furious that someone would lay traps where people lived.
"Haha, this is kind of funny."
Fang Ling felt a flicker of amusement but quickly calmed himself.
It was okay to laugh, but only in his head, for now.
The target had only stepped into one trap and was merely slowed. It was far from a guaranteed victory.
He had to at least step into traps with both legs.
Watching the man narrowly avoid several traps in the underbrush, Fang Ling grew anxious, silently cursing him:
"Step on it already, damn you!"
Whether it was luck or skill, the shadowy figure cautiously moved through the darkness, dragging an injured leg with vigilance, yet still managed to avoid stepping on another trap.
There wasn't much to be done about it, setting traps required enough space.
But this couldn't go on.
The sound of footsteps was heavy, and the voice was deep and weathered, it was definitely a grown man.
Even with an injured leg, Fang Ling's small frame alone wouldn't be enough to win in a head-on fight.
He couldn't let this person get close. He had to strike first while the enemy was still surrounded by traps.
But how?
Lure him into another trap!
Use your strength to exploit the enemy's weakness.
The wisdom of the ancestors shouldn't be ignored.
The array of traps laid on the ground was Fang Ling's advantage.
The shadow, who kept moving despite being trapped, was now like a startled bird. He had no choice but to part the grass and slowly inch forward through the trap-filled area. That was his weakness.
"Kill!"
Fang Ling shouted, his voice breaking the silence of the night like an explosion. He hurled a broken tile toward the shadowy figure.
It wasn't meant to injure, just to startle him.
Startled by the fierce cry from inside the house, the shadow flinched in fear, clearly spooked.
He didn't dare let this unknown attack hit him and instinctively dodged left.
And then, he stepped right into a trap.
A sharp wooden spike pierced through his worn shoe and into his other foot.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed instantly.
He instinctively grabbed at a nearby tree for support.
Perfect, there was another trap on that very tree. A bow mechanism had been crafted using the elasticity of the branches, rigged with carbonized wooden arrows.
He triggered a second trap!
The arrow, pulled taut by the tree's spring, shot forward with great force and embedded itself halfway into his back, piercing a lung.
The excruciating pain finally became too much. The shadow dropped to his knees and let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered.
"Ahhh!"
"Die!"
With a cold grunt, Fang Ling leaped out from the windowsill.
Using his momentum, a flash of light appeared in his hand, a sharp sickle slashed toward the shadow's neck.
Just as the blade was about to land, the shadow gritted through the pain and raised his hand.
Clang!
A finely crafted dagger collided with the sickle, producing a crisp metallic ring.
"You little cripple, you're dead!"
The shadow sneered. His voice, sharp and grating from the pain, sounded oddly familiar.
"You blocked that?"
Shocked, Fang Ling didn't waste time figuring out the man's identity. He immediately reached to the pouch at his waist.
Grabbing a handful of lime powder, he flung it toward the man's eyes.
The darkness provided perfect cover. Caught off guard, the shadow was hit directly.
He had never imagined anyone could be so devious.
Traps on the ground and in the trees, and now ambush tactics during combat, it was all so underhanded.
"Ah! Quicklime?! You son of, a"
Fang Ling had made the lime himself by heating limestone, a perfect weapon for dirty tricks.
The burning sensation in his eyes forced the shadow to close them as tears streamed uncontrollably. He instinctively tried to rub them.
Fang Ling didn't hesitate. Seizing the opportunity, he swung the sickle again.
Even though it was just a farming tool meant for cutting grass, it slashed cleanly through half of the man's neck.
His trachea was severed. Two major blood vessels near the surface of the neck were also cut, and blood sprayed violently, drenching Fang Ling's face.
As blood poured, Fang Ling didn't dare linger. Fearing a last-ditch counterattack, he quickly retreated.
He slipped back into the room, revealing only his eyes from a corner of the wall.
The shadow was already at death's door.
With the brain starved of oxygen, he could barely think.
Blood flooded his throat, making horrible gurgling sounds.
Relying only on fading instincts, the shadow weakly flailed his dagger one last time.
Then he picked a random direction and hurled it with all his might, hoping to hit Fang Ling.
Not only did he miss by a long shot, but Fang Ling was inside the house, pressed tightly to the wall, there was no chance of it landing.
The dagger fell with a light, crisp sound.
Fang Ling listened, noting the direction of the sound, but hadn't moved yet when something unexpected happened, his gray progress bar suddenly jumped forward by one percent.
His pupils contracted sharply.
He had found the method to gain points!
It was a vicious one, resembling the advancement method of fallen or evil soul masters in the world of Douluo Dalu.
Leveling up by killing!
Of course, as someone from another world with a flexible moral compass, Fang Ling didn't mind this fast-track method of cultivation.
He had no family, just a poor beggar whose martial soul was an ordinary sickle.
As long as it helped him grow stronger, even bathing in blood was acceptable.
Besides, adding points on the system panel didn't seem to have any side effects.
But the growth was way too slow. Killing an ordinary adult man with no soul power only gave him one percent.
What did that mean?
He'd have to kill 100 people just to get 1 point, just to level up once!
And 1,000 to reach level 10!
Fang Ling did the math and was stunned.
Honestly, this was... hard to judge.
Soul masters would likely provide more progress. One person per point wasn't impossible.
But right now, Fang Ling couldn't defeat even a support-type soul master, so that wasn't an option.
Killing normal people was unrealistic.
With the Angel Clan reigning supreme and the Spirit Hall maintaining order, mass murder would definitely lead to a manhunt.
And it went against his conscience.
What had those people done to him? Killing them for no reason, bearing the burden of their resentment, turning his kind heart cold, and eventually becoming an enemy to the whole world—what would that accomplish?
From any perspective, indiscriminate killing would only destroy him in the end.
There were better ways to go about it.
Two places instantly came to mind: the Great Soul Arena and the City of Slaughter, both known for life-or-death battles.
Especially the City of Slaughter. A place where you could kill freely, truly a paradise for leveling up!
It was full of mid- to high-level soul masters. Even Title Douluo were there.
Just imagining the points gained from killing a Title Douluo was overwhelming.
Of course, that required significantly stronger combat power. Otherwise, he'd just be meat on the chopping block.
A Title Douluo's soul power alone could kill him with a shockwave.
And while getting into the City of Slaughter was easy, getting out wasn't.
Without Tang Hao behind Tang San or Bibi Dong behind Hu Liena, they wouldn't have survived even 70 or 80 matches, maybe not even 60.
So Fang Ling would need one of their supports.
Since he'd be taking the Blue Silver Emperor's right leg bone, he'd surely offend Tang San. That path was closed.
That left Bibi Dong.
Though the lady pope looked beautiful, she was dangerously unstable inside. Best to keep contact minimal.
He'd need to plan carefully.
If you want to read advanced chapter please subscribe to my : patreon.com/Moorowkeel