Chapter Two: The Flying Dagger

Under the cover of night, the bearded man led Kobei through the dim starlight into Lingfeng City. They skirted several streets before arriving in the southern district, notoriously called the Ten Thousand Sheds Pit.

As far as the eye could see, the entire landscape was dotted with countless shacks—some large, some small, some new, some old. Within these makeshift shelters lived hundreds of thousands of ordinary people.

Kobei’s home was here as well—not a shack, but a house, unremarkable in every way. Yet in the southern district, it counted as a top-tier building. Built from aged gray bricks and tiles, though long stripped of its former splendor and uprightness, resembling an elderly man in twilight years, it was, after all, a house—not a shack.

The bearded man was a gene-enhanced fighter, albeit the lowest rank. Even so, if luck favored him and he managed to kill a lone zombie, he could exchange the spoils for a decent sum—enough to own a house of real bricks in this sea of shacks, a home that many envied.

The bearded man pushed open the heavy wooden door and lit an oil lamp, tending to his wounds in the faint glow.

By the door was a “reclining chair” cobbled together from angle iron, planks, and straw. Kobei sat there, biting his lower lip, his brows knit tightly, palms slick with sweat—every bit of him radiated tension.

How could he not be anxious? If the system drew the Dragon Seizing Hand—a martial art as powerful as it was useless—he would truly be at a loss.

“Amitabha, may Buddha protect me,” Kobei murmured devoutly, pressing his damp palms together before carefully sinking his consciousness into his mind.

All eighteen patterns on the disk turned gray!

Seeing the disk shrouded in mist, Kobei’s heart skipped a beat.

Nothing at all? Impossible! None of the six patterns were blank—what was going on? His heart beat wildly in his throat.

He’d nearly died, his father was wounded because of him, and if he gained nothing at all...

A chill swept through Kobei’s heart. Just as he was about to curse the heavens, a crisp voice rang out, and the tension in his chest eased, as if a spring breeze had warmed him.

“Do you wish to learn the ‘Little Li Flying Dagger’?”

“Yes.”

Though he hadn’t drawn the prized Purple Haze Divine Skill, drawing the Little Li Flying Dagger wasn’t bad luck at all. He wondered if he could use that legendary skill without inner energy.

A golden beam shot from the disk, and in an instant, the secrets of the Little Li Flying Dagger flooded his mind. When Kobei opened his eyes again, he knew he had fully mastered the Flying Dagger techniques—and, crucially, he could use some of its moves even without inner strength.

“Brat, go fetch me a jug of wine.”

A tattered leather shoe with two holes in it flew from the house, striking Kobei square on the head as his father’s rough voice boomed in his ears.

Rubbing the lump on his head, Kobei grumbled inwardly—did his old man know the Flying Dagger too? He never missed! Taking the red crystal coins his father handed him, Kobei skipped out of the Ten Thousand Sheds Pit, heading west toward the city’s sleepless district.

The southern district was a true slum, while the western quarter was Lingfeng City’s economic heart. Hotels, inns, weapon shops—stores of all kinds bustled twenty-four hours a day, a hub of endless excitement. Thus, it was called the Sleepless City.

A single red crystal coin could support Kobei and his father for a month. The bearded man loved his rum; after every zombie hunt, he demanded a jug—though only the cheapest kind.

In the west district, Kobei bought his father a jug of rum, a few pieces of white bread—a luxury they could seldom afford, a rare treat. Passing a weapons shop, he stealthily purchased nine willow-leaf throwing knives, each three inches long.

“What a rip-off,” Kobei muttered, fingering the nine knives at his waist. After buying rum and three days’ food, all that remained of his red crystal coin were those nine throwing knives.

His father was badly hurt and wouldn’t hunt zombies for a while. The Great Purge, held once every seventy years, was just over three months away. If they couldn’t amass enough crystal coins to exchange for contribution points by then, they would be expelled from the city.

In a world ravaged by zombies and monsters, to be cast out of the city’s protection was a death sentence.

Kobei clenched his fist, a sharp light gleaming in his eyes. He wanted his father to live well—and for that, he would risk everything. Now, with the Little Li Flying Dagger and that mysterious system awakened, the impossible became possible.

Early the next morning, without telling his father, Kobei slipped out in secret.

He wore a sleeveless coarse shirt, hemp pants, and a leather pouch at his waist holding nine flying daggers and several bottles of medicinal powder.

Leaving Lingfeng City, Kobei moved north along a ruined highway, crouching low through the tall weeds, advancing under their cover.

The area within thirty kilometers of Lingfeng City had long been swept clean by professional hunting teams. Kobei’s destination lay some fifty kilometers out—a small town called Chen Village.

Three hours later, the sun managed to pierce the thick gray clouds, spilling light and warmth over the land. Kobei walked along the broken road at the edge of Chen Village.

From the grass and woods on either side came the guttural snarls of zombies. Kobei’s right hand slipped to his waist, and a three-inch willow-leaf throwing knife appeared in his grip. Even though no zombies were in sight, he dared not relax—he was beyond Lingfeng City’s reach, and zombies could appear at any moment.

Ordinary Red-Haired Zombies had three times the constitution of a common man, on par with a first-level gene-enhanced fighter like his father. The zombies were slow, but their strength and toughness far exceeded even the best gene-enhanced fighters.

Thus, the usual way to hunt zombies was to exploit their slow speed, wearing them down over hours—his father’s usual tactic. It often took five hours of relentless attacks to finish off a lone zombie.

But the key was to isolate the zombie, ensuring the fight didn’t attract others—a difficult feat. For this reason, his father could only succeed once a month.

Kobei was just an ordinary person. If a zombie got close, he was doomed. His only hope lay in the Little Li Flying Dagger.

A zombie’s weak point was at its brow—a thumb-sized spot. He had to kill with a single strike.

Otherwise, he’d be defenseless, and if more zombies arrived, his fate was sealed.

Suddenly, three Red-Haired Zombies appeared, their twisted faces leering, gaping maws revealing twin fangs, foul breath spewing forth, inch-long, razor-sharp talons flexing in anticipation.

Watching them approach, Kobei swallowed hard, a chill running down his spine.

Without inner energy, he couldn’t unleash the Flying Dagger’s full power. He’d have to rely on skill alone, and with his current strength, he could only hit targets within ten meters—any further, and his aim and power would fail.

His first time facing zombies alone—and three at once! Only a fool wouldn’t be scared.

“Come on, then!”

As the zombies drew closer, Kobei took a deep breath, focusing all his attention on the dagger in his hand. In that moment, he forgot his fear—there was only the blade in his heart, the zombies in his eyes.

The two fastest zombies were now only ten meters away. Their blackened claws gleamed in the light, sharp as swords.

The two zombies shifted suddenly, one lunging forward, the other darting right. The one ahead took another half-step—Kobei had already dusted himself with medicinal powder, but now the zombies were less than ten meters away. They might not have smelled him, but they’d seen him!

With a roar, the zombie lunged at Kobei.

“Now!”

Kobei’s expression was calm; his arm traced a graceful arc, and as his hand rose to his chest, a soft whistling sound split the air—the willow-leaf dagger flew from his grasp.

With a dull thud, the blade struck the zombie dead center in its brow. The zombie’s roar was cut short, its jaws still agape, its body shuddering before it crashed to the ground.

No time to check his kill—two more daggers flashed into Kobei’s hands as the other zombies accelerated.

Now only three meters separated him from the snarling monsters, their reek filling his nostrils. He had only one chance—at this distance, the zombies wouldn’t let him strike twice.

If he failed to kill both with one shot, he’d be the one to die.

Two blades flashed almost simultaneously from Kobei’s hands, slicing the air and burying themselves in the zombies’ brows. A wave of stench washed over him as he was knocked to the ground by the falling bodies.

A Red-Haired Zombie landed atop him, its hideous face mere inches away—Kobei nearly fainted from the stench.

Coughing violently, he summoned all his strength to shove the corpse aside and staggered to his feet. Gazing at the now-still zombies, once so terrifying, a steely resolve flashed in his eyes as he looked up at the gray sky.

“Father, from now on, I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold up this sky.”

Distant howls echoed through the ruins—Kobei dared not linger. He grabbed his knives, crouched by the zombie, and dug out the red crystal from its heart.

Feeling the six remaining daggers in his pouch, he squinted at the sky, then turned and headed for Chen Village. The day was still young—he had time to hunt a few more Red-Haired Zombies.

There were three kinds of zombies: Red-Haired were the lowest, followed by Green-Haired and Purple-Haired. Killing a Red-Haired Zombie yielded a red crystal—one such coin was enough to support Kobei and his father for a month.

As the crimson sun dipped low, Kobei crept through the ruins, searching for ambush spots and avoiding zombies at every turn. Most of the buildings in Chen Village were collapsed; in the shattered ruins, he moved cautiously, knife ready to strike at any sudden threat.

A still-standing three-story building appeared ahead. Hunching low, Kobei slipped inside and quickly climbed to the top floor. After ensuring no zombies lurked nearby, he relaxed against the cold wall, keeping watch through the window. His nerves, taut for hours, finally eased as he flexed his tired wrist—the earlier throws had left his arm sore.

He had to remain in peak condition—otherwise, as an ordinary human, he was in grave danger in the wild. If his aim faltered for any reason, he was finished.

Closing his eyes, Kobei sank his mind into that mysterious system. The Flying Dagger technique had already brought him its rewards—naturally, he yearned to complete another mission and earn another chance at the lottery.

“Kill three hundred Red-Haired Zombies within ten days. Do you accept?”