Better to Kill a Thousand Innocents

Chapter 428: Better to Kill a Thousand Innocents

As the Deputy Supervisor of the Heavenly Office gave a slight wave of his hand, the men behind him distributed sheets of paper to everyone present.

Li Huowang took one, leaned in to look closely, and found it contained addresses and physical descriptions.

“These are suspected Zuowandao. Bring them in. Dead or alive.”

“For every confirmed Zuowandao head delivered, you will receive fifty Yang-Life Pills, and your official rank will rise by half a grade.”

“As for the heads of the Three Yuans and Four Joys—three hundred Yang-Life Pills per head! And a promotion of three full grades!”

“And to the one who kills the most, the Grand Supervisor himself will personally grant three sexagenary cycles of pure Yang-Life!”

At these words, the entire room erupted in a cacophony. The sheer force of the reward was unprecedented.

A full three sexagenary cycles! One hundred and eighty years! Who didn’t want to live another hundred and eighty years? And Yang-Life granted by the Grand Supervisor himself naturally wouldn’t turn one into a Renxiao.

Those who had been harboring secret plans to conceal their true strength immediately abandoned all reservations, eager to throw themselves into the hunt.

“Go. This old man wishes you all success in your endeavors, that you may win promotion and advancement. And remember—the Zuowandao are steeped in evil and deserve the most heinous punishments. Your mission to eradicate them is a righteous act for the people, for the realm, for His Highness’s cause—truly acting on Heaven’s behalf. Therefore, it is better to kill a thousand innocents than to let a single one escape!”

Boom! The four great gates of the capital—east, west, south, and north—slammed shut with a thunderous roar.

With the beat of war drums, heavily armored soldiers ascended the city walls. Their murderous aura formed four massive, impenetrable walls, sealing everything inside.

The great ballistae and siege weapons, meant to face an external enemy, were turned inward, aimed at the city itself.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the capital in a vast white expanse. Black specks, like ants, began to spread from the Supervisory Heavenly Office compound in all directions.

Frowning deeply, Li Huowang spurred his horse, urging it toward the eastern corner. Behind him rode five others, also studying the papers in their hands.

From the surrounding houses, screams and weeping had already begun.

A wooden door decorated with Door Gods was smashed open. A frail woman clutching a swaddled infant stumbled outward.

But with a whistling sound, a ghost-headed blade flew from inside the room in hot pursuit.

In that split second, the infant in the woman’s arms let out a malicious laugh. Its bones contracted, and it slipped slickly out of its wrappings.

With a sudden kick of its tiny limbs, it shoved its own mother toward the flying blade, using the momentum to escape.

Pfft! The blade pierced the woman’s heart. Scalding blood melted the pristine snow, revealing the dark brickwork beneath.

A woman with two scars across her face charged out of the house in a fury. She ripped the ghost-headed blade free and sprinted after the infant racing across the snow.

“Damn it! Filthy Zuowandao! Don’t you fucking run!”

But aside from Li Huowang, no one paid any attention to the mother’s corpse, discarded in the snow like a tattered sack.

“A lot of people are going to die tonight. A lot, a lot of people.”

Li Huowang gritted his teeth so hard his jaw bulged.

All along his path, bloody scenes unfolded before him. Both sides were playing for keeps, and the noise was tremendous—solitary duels, coordinated skirmishes alike. The entire capital was like a pot of porridge set over a roaring fire, gradually boiling from the inside out.

Before he knew it, he had arrived at his destination.

Li Huowang leaped from his horse, crashed through the paper window, and burst into the house.

He found a family of three, huddled together and sobbing. He raised his Purple-Tasseled Sword, but found himself unable to strike.

Suddenly, a flash of cold light shot through the broken window. Clang! Sparks flew as Li Huowang deflected it.

“That’s mine! Back off!”

His eyes bloodshot, Li Huowang turned and snarled.

He looked back at the wife in the terrified family. He sheathed his sword and pulled a dagger from the kit at his waist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. But to make sure you’re not Zuowandao, I need to see the underside of your skin. I’ll fix it up after.”

A scream later, Li Huowang placed a silver ingot on the table and stepped back out into the night, his face dark.

The good news: she wasn’t Zuowandao. The bad news: she wasn’t Zuowandao.

With a quick step onto a pile of timber, Li Huowang pushed off the windowsill and vaulted onto the snow-covered rooftop.

Standing on the highest point, he surveyed the capital below in all its chaos. If there was such a thing as the Eighteen Hells, it could be no worse than this.

The officers of the Supervisory Heavenly Office and the Zuowandao, leaping and bounding between rooftops, never once considered the common people. And why would they?

These innocent bystanders, caught between two warring forces, found their fate sealed no matter what they did or didn’t do.

Perhaps the only reason was that they had blocked the way—and the next moment, their bodies would be separated from their heads.

At this moment, Li Huowang should have been searching for the Heart-Element known as North Wind. But as this hellish scene unfolded before him, his mind began to buzz uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop it.

Boom! A tall building in the distance was set ablaze. It rose like a giant torch, replacing the absent moon and illuminating everything around it.

“What do human lives mean to you?!” Li Huowang screamed at the city, pointing. “They’re people! Living, breathing people!”

He had thought himself cold enough. But when this reality crashed down on him, he couldn’t look away.

Yet after the outburst, a deep sense of powerlessness washed over him. He couldn’t even manage his own life. What right did he have to judge others?

A strange, wailing sound came from beside him. Li Huowang turned to find Jin Shan Zhao—or what was left of him. Only half his body remained.

Tears of blood streamed down his face. His expression was one of grief and fury as he pointed a trembling hand at the scene before them, his mouth issuing unintelligible sounds.

Then came a sobbing—the monk. Crying, he pressed his palms together and began to chant “Amitabha,” reciting sutras to guide the dead.

“Hey! What are you doing, Boss Hong Zhong? Time is of the essence! Forget about them! Let’s find North Wind!”

Li Huowang looked at Hong Zhong, who had spoken, with a coldness in his eyes he had never shown before. Then his gaze shifted to the headless Peng Longteng.

She stood there like a statue, silently facing the soldiers on the distant wall, her martial aura palpable.

Li Huowang clenched his fists and slammed two heavy punches into his own restless body. Then, three figures came rushing toward them.

Two women and a man, their clothing marking them as people of different social standings.

A group of six or seven was chasing them. When they spotted Li Huowang, their eyes lit up.

“Boss Hong Zhong! You’re here! Go! We’ll hold them off!”

With that, they planted their feet and, with faces full of resolve, placed themselves between the Heavenly Office pursuers and Li Huowang.