The Heir to the Seven Killers in the City

Chapter 2: The Seven Kills Sutra

Qin Yu ran like a ghost through the torrential rain for nearly an hour before finally returning to the small room he rented. He couldn’t even afford a very cheap shared apartment, so the place he rented was in Jiangcheng’s filthiest, most dilapidated shantytown—a tiny room of less than ten square meters. Yet for Qin Yu, it was now the only place where he could find peace of mind. Unless you’re an orphan, you probably can’t understand Qin Yu’s state of mind. To him, this tiny, makeshift room was more than just a place to rent—it was his home, his safe haven. Ever since he was sixteen, whenever Qin Yu had been wronged or bullied, he could only retreat to this small room to lick his wounds, much like a lone wolf. Children without parents learn to fend for themselves at a very young age. Back at the orphanage, although the old director was very kind to all the children, there were simply too many in need of care for her to provide meticulous attention to each and every one. Children at the orphanage, ranging in age from zero to thirteen, had a good chance of being adopted by families looking to adopt. Generally, children under six were the most sought after, because kids at that age hadn’t yet formed memories, and most prospective adoptive parents chose children in that age group. Anyone looking to adopt hopes for a child who is smart, pretty, and cute… As a child, Qin Yu met all these criteria, yet every time prospective adoptive parents came to the orphanage to select a child, he was their first choice—only to be passed over in the end. Qin Yu didn’t know why this was happening, and the old director never told him the reason. But after he turned eight, he stopped participating in the selection process. Whenever prospective adoptive parents came to the orphanage to choose a child, the other children would be dressed cleanly and neatly, full of hope for a new home, while Qin Yu would play alone in an empty classroom or in a corner of the orphanage playground. Standing in his room, drying his wet hair and body with a towel, Qin Yu was surprised to discover a noticeable change in his physique as he wiped himself down. He was still gaunt, but his body—once frail from chronic malnutrition—now showed signs of muscle definition. Though not yet pronounced, the changes were clearly there. His seemingly frail body was brimming with energy. Qin Yu looked into the mirror, which reflected a delicate face. His features hadn’t changed—no extra angles or anything—but his eyes, which had always been bloodshot from chronic sleep deprivation, were now jet-black and deep, and his dark circles had vanished. At the same time, his skin had become much fairer. With a touch of self-deprecating humor, Qin Yu ran a hand over his face. He felt as though he’d turned into a pretty-boy—his skin had once been tanned, a mark of the hard labor he’d done as a day laborer on construction sites. After scrutinizing his body, Qin Yu flopped down onto the hard wooden plank bed and closed his eyes. His body wasn’t tired, but his heart was truly exhausted. As soon as he closed his eyes, the contents of the *Seven Slayings Sutra* flowed through his mind, word by word. Qin Yu knew something extraordinary had happened to him. He usually enjoyed reading those legendary novels and had once envied the protagonists who encountered extraordinary adventures; of course, he had also fantasized about experiencing such an adventure himself. But why, when it was finally his turn to have a serendipitous encounter, did he end up with something like this? Qin Yu opened his eyes, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The *Seven Slayings Sutra* was an ancient Huaxia martial art, but to Qin Yu, its cultivation method seemed downright perverse—it actually relied on killing people to advance! The very first sentence of the *Seven Slayings Sutra* was the very phrase Qin Yu had shouted in a daze as he burst out of that snakeskin bag: “Heaven creates all things to sustain humanity, yet humanity has nothing with which to repay Heaven—Kill!” Killing one person yields one point of killing intent; killing ten yields ten points; and killing a hundred marks the initial mastery of this divine art. At this stage, practitioners of the *Seven Slayings Sutra* possess immense power in every movement—they can scale walls, leap across rooftops, and shatter stones and steles with ease, just like the martial arts masters in novels. If one continued to cultivate the *Seven Slayings Sutra* indefinitely, one could even break through the shackles of martial arts and enter another realm—but the amount of killing energy required for that was simply too vast; Qin Yu didn’t even dare to imagine it. The only thing that offered Qin Yu any comfort was a line from the *Seven Slayings Sutra*: “Qi is divided into clear and turbid; people are divided into good and evil. In this vast world, evildoers are many; slaying one evildoer yields a hundredfold increase in killing intent… Slay all the evildoers under heaven, and you shall be invincible throughout the world.” In the unlit room, Qin Yu, lying on his bed, let a cold, sharp smile play at the corners of his mouth. Exterminate all the evildoers in the world? I love the sound of that! Huang Laosan wasn’t a native of Jiangcheng. He’d come to the city three years ago to find work, originally intending to work hard, save some money, and then return to his hometown to marry a wife and settle down—a common aspiration shared by countless migrant workers who’d left their impoverished hometowns. But for the first two years after arriving in Jiangcheng, Huang Laosan did indeed work diligently and saved a little money. However, after returning to Jiangcheng following the Lunar New Year in his third year, he joined a pyramid scheme and was swindled out of every last penny of his hard-earned savings. Some people deeply regret being scammed, but after his initial remorse, Huang Laosan actually became one of the key members of this pyramid scheme, specifically targeting relatives and friends back in his hometown to lure them, one by one, into the abyss of the scheme. The money each person he recruited lost wasn’t much, but the sheer number of people made up for it, so Huang Laosan earned the admiration of the pyramid scheme’s leader, who gave him a substantial commission. Just as Huang Laosan was secretly rejoicing that he was slowly recouping his losses, he never expected the ringleader to order him to dispose of a body… Huang Laosan leaned against the railing of the second-floor hallway, smoking a cheap cigarette, looking dazed and forlorn, like a wandering ghost. The scene from that night—stuffing the teenager into the burlap sack—haunted him like a nightmare; he couldn’t shake it from his mind. For the past few days, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the teenager standing before him, demanding his life…After taking two deep drags and flicking the cigarette butt away, Huang Laosan returned to his room. As a key member of the gang, he enjoyed different treatment from the “trainees”—he had his own private room, even if it was only eight square meters. Closing his eyes and curling up, Huang Laosan lay down on the bed without even taking off his clothes. He was too exhausted, and in a daze, he finally fell asleep. But not long after drifting off, he sensed something was wrong. He opened his eyes to see a figure standing by the bed and immediately tried to scream. The scream was choked back before it could leave his throat. A hand had clamped around his neck—a hand as strong as an iron vice, capable of snapping his neck at any moment with the utmost ease.