Street Punk 02

Exactly, my brother is an indomitable hero, and a rat like you dares to frame him! Speak, who put you up to this? Jiang Xue chimed in from the side. You demonic cult scum only know how to use these underhanded tricks!

Fang Zhiyi smiled. The faces of the neighbors he once knew reappeared in his mind.

Hero? Are you even worthy of the title? Have you forgotten the people of Yangcheng who died because of you? Demonic cult? You are far more despicable than any demonic cult! Fang Zhiyi's face twisted in ferocity. Jiang Gucheng frowned slightly, seemingly deep in thought. After a long while, he snorted, You want to frame me for such a trivial reason?

A trivial reason? Hero Jiang, your life is a life, but theirs aren't? Bah!

Brother, don't waste your breath on him. Just beat him to death! Jiang Xue's face was full of unreasonable arrogance.

As they spoke, Fang Zhiyi fired a hidden weapon from his hand. If he could just take Jiang Gucheng down with him, his wish would be fulfilled. However, the gap in their strength was absolute; Jiang Gucheng knocked the hidden weapon away without even moving a muscle.

A thug like you thinks he can overturn the entire martial world? Jiang Gucheng said with extreme contempt.

They wanted to capture Fang Zhiyi and force him to clarify the truth, but no one expected this street thug to fiercely choose to bite his own tongue and commit suicide.

He wanted Jiang Gucheng to bear the infamy of murdering Old Man Tianji for the rest of his life.

However, things were not as simple as he thought. Following his death, Jiang Gucheng turned around, grabbed his severed head, and charged into the branch of the Zhetian Cult. Under his rallying call, many righteous sects who wanted to carve up the spoils also arrived one after another. The entire branch was engulfed in a sea of fire.

Fang Zhiyi's name spread throughout the martial world, and Jiang Gucheng's reputation as a great hero even reached new heights. Meanwhile, Fang Zhiyi became nothing more than a villainous scoundrel in storybooks.

Little Hei said, There is another rather interesting thing.

Fang Zhiyi looked at it.

The original owner of this body had a good head on his shoulders. He told this matter to an old martial artist in the martial world. Although this old martial artist named Qijue had mediocre martial arts skills, he was extremely upright. After Fang Zhiyi died, he went alone to the Jiang family in Jiangnan to demand an explanation. Of course, it wasn't for the original owner, but for the innocent people of Yangcheng who died. The Jiang family, feeling humiliated, threw him out. But Qijue didn't let it go and continued to seek out Jiang Gucheng. Jiang Gucheng, caring about his reputation, didn't dare to do anything to him. However, Qijue's repeated pestering caused Jiang Xue to harbor resentment, and she simply poisoned the old martial artist to death.

It was done quite cleanly. No one knew that Qijue also died at their hands.

A good head on his shoulders? Good my ass. A thug not doing what a thug should do, learning to be a shit-stirrer instead, Fang Zhiyi cursed. He even got others killed terribly.

I think he was pretty good. To be able to reach this point is already very impressive, Little Hei said. You can't really call him a shit-stirrer, can you?

Think about it carefully. If he is a shit-stirrer, what are those martial artists?

Little Hei froze for a moment, then suddenly understood.

Damn it, a thug is a thug, his methods are just so... Fang Zhiyi looked up. The street in front of him was cold and deserted. A few constables with swords at their waists were patrolling with heavy expressions. From the houses adorned with white mourning silk, cries could be heard from time to time.

He had no choice. A boy who grew up eating food from a hundred families, relying on a bite from the east side and a free meal from the west side to grow to this age. Those peddlers weren't truly afraid of him; they all knew he wasn't a bad person at heart, Little Hei said, as another scene appeared.

Although Fang Zhiyi was nominally a street thug, when a peddler was bullied by foreign merchants, he would stand up, put his hands on his hips, and curse at them in the street. Right after eating a bowl of noodles from someone, he would watch the lame stall owner getting ready to close up, and though he would curse and swear, his body would honestly go over to help the man carry his pole. He cheekily snatched hawthorn cakes sold by an old auntie, and the auntie stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at his back, before finally bursting into laughter after a long time: You little bastard! Come fix my roof tomorrow! Fang Zhiyi waved his hand without looking back to show he understood.

True, otherwise he would have starved to death lying at home for these past three months.

Little Hei continued to praise, Really, there aren't many original owners who can catch my eye, but this one counts. He only started learning martial arts in his twenties, and abruptly went from a layman to a third-rate expert. You've learned martial arts too, so you know how hard that is.

It's rare to hear you praise an original owner, Fang Zhiyi said, and then inspected his own body. There are old injuries, and the meridians are broken in two places. On this point alone, he was indeed quite a character.

With your abilities, taking revenge shouldn't be too hard, right? Little Hei asked.

Do you think I'm a god? Or are you a god? Fang Zhiyi asked in return.

Little Hei was taken aback.

This isn't some immortal cultivation world. Once meridians are broken, they're broken. Even if it's me... Fang Zhiyi slowly reached out a hand, trying to sense the internal energy within his body. At best, I'll be a second-rate expert, and that's only because I have more experience than him.

Then... is it going to be difficult?

It's not impossible. Fang Zhiyi let out a long breath. The spot where the original owner was struck by Jiang Gucheng throbbed with a dull ache. This guy actually went to seek revenge carrying an injury like this?

Even though I can't beat him right now, since I'm already here... Fang Zhiyi muttered, walking forward step by step.

Hongyun Bookstore was one of the few shops with its doors open. The boss was an old man, currently staring blankly at the main door. Suddenly, a figure barged into his line of sight. When he saw who it was, the old man was stunned.

Why did this street thug come to a bookstore? You have to know, Fang Zhiyi wandered the streets every day of the year, yet he had never stepped through the door of his shop. At most, he would sit on the threshold eating a stolen pear.

Boss, get me some books to read, Fang Zhiyi greeted casually.

The old man looked at him without speaking.

Fang Zhiyi also displayed the original owner's rogue spirit, treating the bookstore entirely as his own home. He began to pick and choose through the thread-bound books, flipping through a few before casually tossing them aside. This was his habit: to first understand the culture and writing system of this world, reading books was the most convenient way.

The old man rolled his eyes at him and silently stepped forward to put the books back in their places.

Could this guy even read? Impossible. It would be a miracle if Fang Zhiyi could even write his own name completely.

He figured the boy must have been stimulated by something. The old man sighed, walked to the door on his own, and stared blankly outside.

The sky was so gloomy it looked as if it were about to rain.

He was so engrossed in looking that he didn't even notice when Fang Zhiyi left. After keeping the door open for a while longer without a single customer, the old man got up and closed the door. A drop of murky old tear rolled down his heavily wrinkled face.

A few days later, the street finally regained some vitality. Some peddlers started doing business again, and foreign merchants arrived one after another. The street gradually became lively.

It was just that the white mourning silk hanging on both sides of the street seemed somewhat out of place.