So-Called Karma 13

Killing was supposed to be a pleasure—the spray of blood, the shattered limbs, the terror in dying eyes, the dilated pupils, the desperate struggles, the way people abandoned all dignity to beg on their knees, saying anything, betraying anyone, casting aside so-called morality and loyalty just to live one more moment.

That ugly sight laid bare the worst of human nature, and Yan Xianchuan found it endlessly fascinating. She never tired of it.

She used to enjoy little games—mothers and children, or couples—telling them that whoever killed the other first would live.

It was always the children and the men who struck first, of course. But Yan Xianchuan never let them have their way; at the last moment, she would kill the one who made the move.

Betrayers were beasts, animals, garbage—anything but human. They had no right to live.

Everyone had base instincts. That was precisely why the few who clung to ethics and morality were all the more precious.

Eventually, though, she grew tired of that game. She considered it an embarrassing relic of her edgy youth, something she refused to mention. Yan Xianchuan still loved killing, relished the sensation of life slipping away, but no kill had ever felt as satisfying as this one.

Absolutely infuriating!

She glared viciously at the endless tide of attackers, wishing she had been turned into a spider or a mantis—at least she'd have more limbs.

What should have been a joy had become a mechanical, repetitive chore, utterly devoid of amusement.

A thorned vine suddenly burst from the ground, wrapping around her legs. Yan Xianchuan tried to step forward, but the pull nearly sent her tumbling into a forward roll.

Furious, she lowered her head and bit down. The thorns were like steel needles, but against her teeth they crumbled like brittle wafers with the slightest pressure.

She tore the vine into several pieces, which continued to writhe on the ground even after falling. Yan Xianchuan stomped on them repeatedly, as if crushing green caterpillars.

The thorns couldn't pierce her skin, but they scraped off quite a bit of the wool from her legs. White fluff drifted down, forming a thin layer around her hooves.

She looked closely and saw uneven gaps in her coat, patchy and ragged—uglier than a watermelon gnawed on by a three-year-old.

Yan Xianchuan was beyond fury.

The inconvenient hooves had only annoyed her, but now her fur was ruined—mussed, damaged, bald and unsightly. She was no longer beautiful.

Rage ignited deep within her, spreading with every heartbeat, pulsing through her veins and hammering against her nerves. Her eyes held lightning and the storm of destruction.

I am truly angry, she thought coldly, focusing on a person whose hands were entwined with vines. I will crush her skull, snap every bone in her body, drain her blood dry, and shatter every limb until nothing remains.

The little white goat, not even knee-high, charged forward faster than an arrow loosed from a bow. Her hooves thundered against the ground louder than rolling thunder. Head lowered, she slammed into the target with blinding speed, then jerked upward, her sharp horns like twin cleavers slicing through the woman's legs in an instant.

The woman shrieked, her upper body crashing to the ground without support as blood sprayed from the severed stumps. Yan Xianchuan paid it no mind, letting the blood drench her. She raised a hoof and stamped down on the woman's face, crushing it into a concave mess. The body twitched twice and went still.

Still unsatisfied, exactly as she had vowed, Yan Xianchuan paced back and forth over the corpse several times until it was pulp.

Throughout, esper after esper attacked her—hurling wind blades, spitting fire, spraying acid-like corrosive fluids. She dodged when she could, and when she couldn't, she simply weathered the blows.

After all, her fur was already ruined. The goat had adopted a devil-may-care attitude, charging through the crowd in every direction. Those she struck were either sliced in half or sent flying high into the air, only to splatter on the ground.

Her horns, though not long, were sharper than an ion cutter, and her speed was such that attacks rarely landed before she had zipped away.

Elsewhere, bodies remained mostly intact. Here alone, blood and entrails painted the ground, arms and legs scattered wildly, not a single intact corpse to be found. If the hellish meat grinder truly existed, it could not have been more brutal or bloody than this scene.

Not a single one on the ground survived. Only those who had taken to the air escaped. Before long, the attackers stopped coming to the eastern side altogether.

She stood in the pool of blood, hooves wading through lakes of gore, kicking aside stray chunks of flesh, shaking off clotted blood from her body, and fixing the few figures hovering above with a murderous stare as she paced back and forth.

Her coat was in disarray—scorched in places, bald in others, hardly any white remaining. A drop of blood fell from her eyelashes, making ripples in the blood pool at her feet.

Like pesky flies, annoying mosquitoes, those flying espers kept harassing her.

Yan Xianchuan watched them coldly, her killing intent nearly tangible.

She scanned her surroundings, searching for a way to drag them down. Then she spotted a slope—collapsed debris from a ruined building formed a small incline.

The espers hovering above could barely hide their terror as they watched this immature goat use the slope as a ramp, kicking off with her hind legs and leaping straight into the air. One barely dodged aside in fright, narrowly avoiding a bite.

That gleaming, snowy set of teeth whooshed past his leg, and he even heard the sharp snap as they clacked shut.

Yan Xianchuan's attack missed, and the espers flew higher, no longer daring to strike, merely hovering aloft.

She landed, pawing the ground impatiently, and scanned again. She found no solution, but she did find a person, a hand, a voice: "What's wrong?"

That hand brushed her cheek, wiping away the blood beaded on her eyelashes, as gentle as the voice it belonged to.

Yan Xianchuan blinked and shrank back, but where could she hide on this open ground? She let out a dejected bleat and hung her head.

"Are you badly hurt?" Lu Mingqiu quickly ran her hands over Yan Xianchuan's entire body, finding only lost fur, no wounds—all the blood was someone else's. "I called you several times. Bai Ge found the base's critical position, and the attacks have stopped."

As she spoke, she took in the carnage around them. It could only be described as a one-sided massacre. The Chameleon, whom she had met once before, lay on a pile of rubble not far away.

Lu Mingqiu's eyes flickered. She had long understood Yan Xianchuan's condition, but a scene this extreme was still somewhat beyond expectations.

When the other woman had charged off, Lu Mingqiu had called out to her. Yan Xianchuan, consumed by rage, clearly hadn't heard. Lu Mingqiu had called again and again, yet received no response.

It wasn't that she begrudged Yan Xianchuan the lives taken—she herself had shown no mercy, and J had died by her bullet, a perfect shot to the heart.

Killing was fine, but there had been no need to go this far. Still, scolding her after the fact would be pointless, and this was hardly the time for a moral lecture.

"Let's go," Lu Mingqiu sighed. She had meant to pat Yan Xianchuan on the back, but at the last moment, her hand stopped, and she simply stood up empty-handed.

Yan Xianchuan watched that hand hover in the air, about to land on her, then pull away. She couldn't help grinding her teeth and slumped even lower with dejection.

Bai Ge's destructive power was plain to see. A trench dozens of meters long had been carved into the earth, collapsed walls buried under mud, with the occasional glimpse of crushed equipment beneath.

He could pinpoint the most critical locations with precision, thanks to Hei Ge's guidance.

Flipping up steel plates was no more trouble for him than cutting tofu. In truth, Bai Ge could have destroyed the Church's core area far more quickly, but he didn't.

He deliberately started from the edges, gnawing away bit by bit, letting their proud secret base crumble slowly in an unstoppable manner, reducing those who couldn't flee to powder, collapsing and shattering in a black hole.

Those Church members who died by his hand numbered no fewer than those killed by anyone else.

The screams and wails of the dying, their cries for help—to Bai Ge's ears, they were the sweetest music in the world.

Revenge was an addictive poppy that made one tremble. Bai Ge, who hadn't smiled since the incident with Hei Ge, curled his lips into a brief, emotionless smile.

He was the first to jump down below, landing in a silver-white corridor. Church members were lying in ambush somewhere, none of the espers showing their faces, but Bai Ge wasn't worried.

In his right hand, he tossed a small black sphere. What should have been an all-consuming black hole behaved in his grip like an ordinary tennis ball, docile and tame.

Hei Ge guided him through the earpiece, plotting his route. Bai Ge followed unhurriedly, occasionally hurling the black hole forward and then reeling it back with a crook of his finger.

The others on the surface didn't follow him down. Instead, they split up to block the Church's main exits on the ground.

"Butterfly, you're with Biscuits," Lu Mingqiu ordered.

Butterfly had the power of flight and was an excellent sniper, capable of taking down enemies in midair even from the ground—a perfect complement to Yan Xianchuan.

He was a rather sullen-looking young man, his shoulder-length hair tied back, with several empty piercings in his ears, unadorned.

Butterfly stepped out of hiding and trotted over to Yan Xianchuan. He looked down at her and said in a low voice, "Hello."

Yan Xianchuan twitched her ears.

The X-ray-vision Fan paired with Gold Ring—one supporting, one attacking.

Pea the Bard paired with Calamus, compensating for Calamus's relatively lower combat ability.

That left Lu Mingqiu alone.

After assigning their respective directions, Lu Mingqiu turned to leave but found her coat hem caught in Yan Xianchuan's mouth. The goat shook her head back and forth, nudging Butterfly forward.

Yan Xianchuan: "Baa!"

The goat and the woman stared at each other for a moment. Butterfly stood frozen, completely baffled by whatever message was passing between their eyes, until he heard Lu Mingqiu say, "Fine. Butterfly, you're with me. You stay safe. Your own life comes first, no matter what."

Yan Xianchuan nodded vigorously, almost shaking her head off, and bleated, "Baa!"

Then she hopped and bounded toward the east side of town, clearing three to four meters in a single leap, and was the first to reach her post.

What they were blocking off weren't secret exits, but the food delivery hatches previously spotted by the drone, Sparrow.

The Church never imagined their espers were this high-ranked. A-level espers weren't common as cabbages. After all their development, they only had four, and this year the Resistance had ambushed and killed one, leaving three. Walnut Town's base was important, so one had been stationed here.

His power was insect manipulation, and he was called Insect Master. To maximize his effectiveness, the Church had specially cultivated numerous venomous insects for him to command.

But his greatest asset wasn't these poisonous bugs—it was nature itself.

Insects. The most resilient species in the natural world. No matter how harsh the environment, they always carved out a niche.

Nature's insect supply was endless. Those who died at Insect Master's hands were typically bitten to death, consumed piece by piece as the insects fed.

He had always carried himself with arrogance, looking down his nose at everyone, a man of absolute authority in the Church. But now, that proud face could barely conceal its panic. He barked, "How were we discovered! How did they get in! When will headquarters' reinforcements arrive!"

A subordinate in white robes had no choice but to step forward and deliver the unpleasant news: "The nearest base is a five-hour drive away. They can't get here anytime soon."

After speaking, he lowered his head in terror, for the bones of the colleague who had delivered bad news last time were still lying cleanly nearby on the ground.

"Why aren't those test subjects attacking anymore!" Insect Master demanded, barely containing his fury.

"Prolonged sonic control damages their brains. If we continue, they'll suffer brain death directly," the white-robed subordinate explained, his gaze drifting to his colleague's skeleton, where a final strand of flesh was being cut away and dragged off by an ant. He nearly bowed his head to the floor.

"Nine whole years since the project was approved, and this is all you've produced—this useless garbage," Insect Master said with venom. "The Church spends enough on this every year to fund ten large corporations. This is your return on that investment."

He gave a cold snort. Venomous scorpions, spiders, and fire ants emerged from the crevices in the room, covering the man in seconds, crawling into his ears, nostrils, throat—every conceivable opening—burrowing inside to tear at his organs and entrails.

The white-robed subordinate didn't even let out a scream before meeting the same fate as his colleague.

"I always said this research should never have been done," Insect Master said, taking a deep breath, then summoned a few others: "Take the data and retreat!"

Insect Master thought callously: if espers could be mass-produced, would he still hold such a powerful position today?

The Resistance and the Church were old enemies. He recognized the big shot making a splash—a notorious weapon. The one controlling metal he knew too; he was a real headache. The few others he didn't recognize as well, especially one woman—he couldn't tell what type of esper she was, only watching as people dropped dead one after another.

At any rate, he was an A-level esper. If things went truly south, he could sell everyone out and defect to the Resistance. He'd live comfortably there too.

Insect Master's sickly green eyes rolled around. But before selling, he'd need to destroy all the data.

His mental calculations were running smoothly, but he had no idea why the Church lacked any intel on Lu Mingqiu.

—Because those who had seen her were all dead.