Volume One: Qin Yang of the Northern Sea Chapter 37: The Ink Dragon

Qin Yang showed little interest in the other antiques, but the Black Dragon Dagger in his hand was different. Its surface felt icy to the touch, as if he were holding a block of ice. Glancing around, he noticed Su Ying had yet to return. He frowned slightly—women could be troublesome; how could a simple trip to the restroom take so long?

At that moment, Qin Ling’er hurried over in a panic. “Brother, something’s wrong! Sister Su Ying is being bullied.”

The words had barely left her lips before Qin Yang’s face darkened instantly. Damn it, he had only wanted a day out, but trouble kept coming his way. Spotting a middle-aged man tugging and pulling at Su Ying, Qin Yang strode over and slapped him so hard the man lost all sense of direction.

“Damn you, do you even know where you are? Laying your hands on my woman must mean you’re tired of living.” Muttering under his breath, he pummeled and kicked the man, leaving him bleeding on the ground.

The commotion drew a crowd. People immediately recognized the victim, and shock rippled through the onlookers. It was Master Bao.

Master Bao was infamous—renowned for his collection of treasures, though known to be lecherous. Judging by his state, he must have been drinking tonight; normally, he would never act like this.

Struggling to his feet with his bodyguard’s help, Ma Bao lashed out with a kick. “Damn it, why are you helping me up? Get him!”

“Su Ying, are you alright?” Qin Yang asked with concern. She shook her head, indicating she was fine.

Just then, as the two bodyguards prepared to attack, Qin Yang flicked the Black Dragon Dagger in his hand. “Heh, I just got this dagger and haven’t seen its edge blooded yet. If you don’t mind, neither do I.”

Their faces changed dramatically as they exchanged glances and rushed at him. Both were trained fighters—their punches heavy and forceful—but their flashy moves were useless against him. His legs lashed out in a flurry, forcing them back, and the Black Dragon Dagger in his hand flashed, drawing a thin line of blood.

As soon as the dagger tasted blood, it changed. The blade, once silver, turned crimson, a blood-red dragon seeming to swirl along its edge.

The crowd was stunned. Zhu San, in particular, gaped in disbelief. He’d owned this dagger for over a decade and had never witnessed anything like this.

“A true divine weapon,” he murmured.

A chill emanated from the dagger, seeping into Qin Yang’s body. The corners of his mouth curled upwards with a cold smile. The dagger danced swiftly in his hand, and Ma Bao’s two bodyguards, faces pale, stumbled back in fear.

Just then, someone leapt forward to intervene. “Amitabha. Benefactor, let mercy temper your actions.”

“Master Yideng, is this really the right moment for you to step in?” Qin Yang replied, a hint of mockery in his tone.

No one had expected Master Yideng to intervene. Even Zhang Yiming and Wang Hao were caught off guard. Ma Bao had crossed the line, laying hands on another man’s woman; a beating was well-deserved.

“Benefactor, as long as I am here, no more blood will be shed,” Master Yideng said resolutely, blocking Ma Bao from harm.

“Oh? What if I insist on seeing him bleed today?” To hell with monks and their piety. Qin Yang had never cared for the lives of others—anyone who dared harm his friends or his woman would pay, no matter who they were.

Channeling his inner strength to both hands, he unleashed his Phantom Hands technique. To the onlookers, it seemed as if countless arms filled the air, leaving them utterly dumbfounded. These were ordinary people—they had never seen such a display of martial prowess.

Wang Hao was practically trembling with excitement. As a martial artist himself, he couldn’t gauge the depth of either man’s power, but he knew both were masters at the Enlightenment level. Qin Yang was still young, while Master Yideng was a veteran, halfway into the Daoist realm, his strength overwhelming.

With a flurry of strikes, Master Yideng was forced to retreat several steps under Qin Yang’s assault. Wang Hao’s eyes widened in shock—he never imagined Qin Yang could be so formidable. Just days earlier, Qin Yang had told him he’d reached the intermediate Enlightenment level; Wang Hao had thought that impressive enough, but now it was clear Qin Yang had improved at a terrifying pace.

He could already match Master Yideng—given more time, he might even surpass him.

“Heh, Master, your skills aren’t all that impressive after all!” Qin Yang taunted.

On the sidelines, Ma Bao and Su Ying were tense with anticipation, especially Ma Bao. If Master Yideng couldn’t hold Qin Yang back, he’d be in serious trouble. It was only because he had once retrieved and returned a Buddhist relic that Master Yideng was willing to help him now.

Minutes ticked by. Sweat beaded on Master Yideng’s brow, while Qin Yang seemed exhilarated.

Sensing the situation deteriorate, Ma Bao tried to slip away. Suddenly, a sharp gust sliced through the air—a chilling aura locked onto him.

Panic seized him.

A scream rang out as a gash was cut across his leg. Qin Yang landed a powerful punch, forcing Master Yideng back, and stalked toward Ma Bao.

With a broad smile, he said jovially, “Master Bao, shall we discuss compensation now?”

Seeing Qin Yang relent, Master Yideng breathed a sigh of relief and stepped aside, unwilling to continue the fight. The old saying rang true—youth is to be feared.

“Sir, you’re the boss. How much compensation do you want?” Ma Bao asked nervously, his smile more pitiful than tears.

“Ten million, and we’ll consider the matter settled.”

“Ten million? Why don’t you—”

“Oh? Do you have a problem?” Qin Yang twirled the dagger in his hand, eyes narrowing dangerously. The implication was clear: one word of protest and the dagger would show no mercy.

“Qin Yang, I’m fine. There’s no need for compensation,” Su Ying whispered, embarrassed by the attention.

“No, no, my lady, it’s all my fault. Ten million it is—I, Ma Bao, can pay that. Consider it the price for making a friend,” Ma Bao stammered, glancing at Qin Yang for his reaction.

Seeing no further objection, he breathed a sigh of relief. Damn, Bincheng was just too dangerous—he’d never come here again.

The unpleasantness soon passed, but the crowd eyed Qin Yang with awe and fear. Such a man was beyond the reach of ordinary law—if he ever lost control, killed someone, and fled abroad, no one could stop him.

Finally, the three of them, no longer in the mood, took their leave. As Qin Yang departed, he cast a lingering glance at Master Yideng, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

“Master Yideng, I believe our paths will cross again.”

Master Yideng shook his head. “I’d rather we never meet again.”

For the next couple of days, Qin Yang devoted himself to showing his little sister around, as the New Year’s holiday was brief. Qin Ling’er bought a ticket and prepared to return home.

After seeing his sister onto the train, Qin Yang stood at the street corner, lighting a cigarette, his expression cold and distant.

“It seems some people just can’t wait any longer.”