Urban Martial Saint

After dealing with the two fighting dogs, Ding San didn’t pause for even a moment. He charged forward directly, heading straight for the man running at the front.

These men had originally thought that Ding San, entangled by the dogs, was vulnerable. Taking advantage of the chaos, they had planned to kill him. What they didn’t expect was Ding San’s sheer ruthlessness—it shocked them to their cores. The two fighting dogs slaughtered so easily left them horrified. Seeing Ding San’s blood-drenched mouth and vicious expression, panic seized their hearts, forcing some to instinctively retreat.

The man Ding San rushed at head-on let out a terrified scream, his machete slipping from his grasp. Turning, he attempted to flee, but his speed ultimately fell short. Ding San caught up with him, seized his throat, and knocked him violently to the ground.

At this moment, Ding San truly seemed like a beast. Pinning the man to the ground, he immediately sunk his teeth into his neck.

The man wailed in agony, struggling to crawl away, but Ding San wasn’t letting go. His teeth tore off a large chunk of flesh from the man’s neck. Unsatisfied, Ding San grabbed his head and smashed it forcefully against the concrete floor.

After two brutal strikes, the man passed out, his struggles ceasing altogether. Yet Ding San, consumed by madness, showed no signs of stopping—he smashed the head over a dozen times, reducing it to a bloody pulp before finally releasing him.

By this time, everyone around them was utterly stunned. These weren’t people unfamiliar with death—they were hardened criminals, many with blood on their hands and reputations for brutality. But now, with Ding San before them, their legs trembled uncontrollably from terror.

They had thought murder was the ultimate measure of savagery. Yet witnessing Ding San, they realized their killings were child’s play in comparison. This beast-like Ding San was the true embodiment of terror.

Though there were over twenty people in the courtyard, none dared to surround or confront Ding San. However, Ding San himself showed no intention of letting anyone off. Rising from the floor, he spat out a mouthful of blood, slowly turning to gaze at the crowd all around him. Suddenly, he roared and lunged at one of them again.

One man recoiled in alarm, trying to step back, but it was already too late. Ding San quickly caught up with him and, just like earlier, dispatched him mercilessly.

Watching Ding San’s ferocity, the surrounding crowd grew uneasy. At last, one person couldn’t hold back and shouted, ”Everyone, charge together! This one-on-one nonsense will just get us killed. Only by working together and killing him do we stand a chance to survive!”

This man’s call to action had an immediate effect. The crowd, initially paralyzed by fear, began shifting as their terror escalated to rage—a desperate, frenzied need for release. The call ignited their resolve, and armed with various weapons, the group collectively yelled and surged toward Ding San, ready to end him.

Old Wang Ba sneered, saying, ”So now they resort to outnumbering him?”

The Dirty Monk, on the other hand, said nothing. His gaze remained impassive as Ding San killed, as if the carnage was of no consequence to him—a demeanor grossly inconsistent with his role as a monk. However, given his peculiar nature, his indifference was not all that surprising.

Over twenty men rushed at Ding San, and the courtyard instantly descended into utter chaos. Even though the Dirty Monk and Old Wang Ba stood watching from above, they could no longer see clearly what was happening within. This melee carried on for fifteen minutes before gradually settling. Most people now lay motionless on the ground, the courtyard’s surface completely soaked with blood.

Covered head to toe in crimson streaks, Ding San stood amidst the carnage. Despite Old Wang Ba being some distance away, he could plainly see Ding San’s body was riddled with injuries. Some wounds were unimaginably horrific—one across his back had nearly cleaved his body in two, exposing raw, white bone. His abdomen had two daggers embedded, with blood continuously dripping from the blades. The rest of his body didn’t bear a single intact patch of skin. To speak frankly, given his injuries, the mere fact that he remained alive was practically miraculous.

Yet, Ding San not only endured, but he also still had the strength to slice open the throat of the last man left standing. As the lone survivor collapsed into the pool of blood, Ding San himself finally appeared at the brink, faltering before slowly falling into the thick, congealed blood.

”Think he might actually die now?” Old Wang Ba wondered aloud. ”If he dies, how’ll that gamble you made with the Bloody Monk settle?”

”He won’t die,” the Dirty Monk replied confidently. ”Just watch closely.”

”Watch what?” Old Wang Ba asked, perplexed but intrigued enough to follow the monk’s suggestion.

Ding San lay supine in the blood, apparently unconscious, perhaps already dead. Old Wang Ba scrutinized him for a while without finding anything unusual. He was about to turn and question the Dirty Monk, when suddenly, he noticed faint ripples forming in the blood pooling across the courtyard floor.

”What’s going on? Is there—something in the blood?” Old Wang Ba exclaimed in startled confusion.

The Dirty Monk remained silent, merely exhaling with an expression of uncharacteristic compassion.

Old Wang Ba shifted his gaze from the monk to the courtyard, his own face abruptly darkening. ”Is this… the Murderer’s Knife and Murderer’s Manual?”

”It is.” The Dirty Monk nodded, his gaze fixed calmly on the courtyard, lost in thought.

Old Wang Ba’s eyes bulged. Though he’d heard of the items, he had never seen their full capabilities. Now, witnessing them firsthand, curiosity overwhelmed him.

The courtyard’s blood-soaked ground had become a morbid spectacle, with twenty-some people’s blood flowing freely over its surface, pooling crimson like a vile, pulsating tide.

Ding San lay within this bloody mire, appearing lifeless. Yet now, the blood rippled with increasing intensity, though no clear cause was visible. To Old Wang Ba’s astonishment, the blood began to coalesce, gradually converging toward Ding San at the center.

Even for someone as worldly as Old Wang Ba, this was a wholly unheard-of phenomenon. ”Why is the blood pooling like that?” he asked, bewildered.

”I’ve read many ancient texts. If my guess is correct, the Murderer’s Manual must contain a mysterious formation left behind by Guiguzi,” the Dirty Monk spoke gravely. ”Guiguzi is regarded as the founding father of all formations. It’s said he could use a single sheet of paper to redirect streams within a five-mile radius—a phenomenon once considered miraculous. That Murderer’s Manual might very well replicate the technique, drawing blood toward it through its formation!”

Old Wang Ba’s jaw dropped. A direct descendent of the Iron Calculation Sect, even he found this revelation utterly astonishing.

Under their watchful eyes, the blood gathered faster and faster, forming a large pool around Ding San that raised his body slightly off the ground. Afterward, the courtyard fell eerily silent, though Old Wang Ba couldn’t shake the impression that the blood was still subtly shifting somehow. Straining to observe more closely, he suddenly noticed Ding San’s grievous wounds beginning to heal at a pace visible to the naked eye.

In less than ten minutes, the horrifying gash across Ding San’s back, its white bone once exposed, closed seamlessly. The daggers embedded in his abdomen had fallen out unnoticed, and these wounds too sealed themselves. Other smaller injuries had vanished entirely, leaving no trace.

Staring dumbfounded, Old Wang Ba muttered, ”So the Murderer’s Manual and Murderer’s Knife also have the power to heal wounds?”

Exhaling deeply, the Dirty Monk said, ”That’s why I said he won’t die. With the Murderer’s Manual and Murderer’s Knife in his possession, and sufficient bloodshed… no matter how severe his injuries, his body will recover shortly after.”

”If that’s the case, doesn’t that make him Invincible Under the Heavens?” Old Wang Ba asked in amazement.

The Dirty Monk shook his head. ”Not quite. For this effect to work, he must wield both the manual and the knife simultaneously. Without one or the other, he cannot grow stronger, nor will he heal at such speed.”

Scratching his head, Old Wang Ba suggested, ”What if I hire someone to steal those two items from him someday?”

The Dirty Monk shot him a sidelong glance, saying, ”Stealing? Forget about it. You’re here for one reason—I want your help to redeem him.”

”Oh, no!” Old Wang Ba backed away hurriedly. ”I don’t have what it takes to redeem him. You deal with that yourself. Look at this guy… What difference is there between him and a wild beast? He kills anyone he sees, eats anything he can. You’re asking me to risk my neck for this lunatic? You must be joking!”

”It’s not quite that simple,” the Dirty Monk corrected. ”He doesn’t indiscriminately kill everyone he meets. All these people were his enemies. Right now, the people you see here were linked to an underground network exploiting young schoolgirls for profit. Ding San killing them… it’s all part of his revenge.”

”Whether they’re his enemies or not, I know I’m no match for handling him!” Old Wang Ba shot back. ”You monks like to preach ’I won’t go to Hell, who will?’ Now’s your chance. Feast on Hell for yourself; don’t drag me down into it just yet, Eighth Master isn’t ready for that.”

The Dirty Monk sighed. ”Were I capable of redeeming him, I’d have already done so myself. The problem is, he’s already consumed by his Heart Demon. The only way to suppress it… is through you!”

”What do I have to offer? Don’t pin this on me—I’ll only mess it up for sure!” Old Wang Ba said hurriedly, backing away. ”I’m good for nothing except failing catastrophically. You’re barking up the wrong tree if you want my help with this!”

Seeing his reaction, the Dirty Monk chuckled softly. ”Don’t worry, I won’t throw you into harm’s way. The reason I brought you here is because of his son—he’s currently at Ye Qing’s orphanage.”

”Oh?” Old Wang Ba’s eyes widened. ”That’s right—now that you mention it, I remember. Ding San arranged for his son to stay at Ye Zi’s orphanage before coming here for his revenge.”

The Dirty Monk glanced at Ding San, saying, ”The only chance of suppressing his Heart Demon… is through his son.”