I Can't Be Sword God

Why Hasn’t the Assassin Come?

‘Run! Run! Run!’

‘Don’t look back!’

‘Never look back!’

Baowu’s heart was pounding against its chest hard, so hard that he could almost feel its eardrum trembling.

It ran like a gust of wind for don’t-know-how-far before it finally dared to stop to catch its breath.

A metallic taste gushed up its throat.

What followed next was a series of severe pain in its internal organs and dantian.

Its right arm was completely crumpled, the bones of which should have been pulverized.

The most feared part was the injury in dantian.

Baowu did not dare to take a look, but it could already feel it.

Its spiritual core must have been torn apart.

A torn spiritual core, displaced internal organs, and the broken bones in half the body—in simple terms, that meant death.

For a spiritual creature that had transformed for many years, death was not as simple as it seemed.

Baowu was agile, having explosive power and speed. These qualities were the guarantee that enabled it to kill and get away with ease.

Those who could catch up with it could not beat it, and those who could beat it could not catch up with it.

But it did not expect that it would die in such a ridiculous situation.

When Baowu struck the young Daoist priest with its Hammer of Obliteration, there was no feeling of physical tearing. Moreover, the priest did not even move a bit, so it had noticed that something was wrong.

‘Can it be that this young Daoist priest has a diamond-cast body? He should have at least budged a little when taking my punch even if he was a mountain.’

What Baowu least expected was, the attack that it unleashed had bounced back at it at double strength.

It had been destroyed all of a sudden.

This punch became a great horror.

It had shocked Baowu in an instant.

Baowu had turned around and ran. But as it ran, it could still feel the bounced back energy ravaging its body.

“Ahh...”

It ran for a long time before it stopped in a verdant forest, leaning against a tree and gasping for air.

Since death was inevitable, it might as well conserve its strength for something useful.

The young Daoist priest did not give chase—in fact, Baowu felt he did not even see it from the beginning to the end.

‘Indeed, a petty spiritual creature like me may seem like an ant to him.’

‘He did not even bother to give chase, as the rebounded energy would kill me.

‘The thing is, how can a human being possess such a terrifying physique?

‘How does such an impressive figure suddenly come about in this small town of Jiangnan?

‘Why did he not reveal it earlier, since he has such a high level of cultivation?’

“Ahh...”

Baowu could not die in peace this way.

But it could do nothing about it.

Such an enemy was not someone it was qualified to hate.

A thought came to mind.

It quickly took out a palm-sized blue bird statue from its arms. The thing was colorful and lifelike.

There was a paper roll in the statue’s mouth. Baowu pulled it out, opened it, and wrote a few words with its blood.

‘The Daoist priest is horrible. Do not come.’

After that, Baowu put the paper roll back into the mouth of the statue and then injected the last trace of its power into it.

After the statue was injected with power, it spread out its wings in the wind and transformed into an actual colorful blue bird before quickly flowing into the sky.

Seeing the blue bird flying away, Baowu finally breathed its last.

If its brothers and sisters knew it had died here, they would definitely come to avenge its death. The outcome would be the total annihilation of them.

It must not allow this to happen.

Baowu stared in the direction of the blue bird flying away, but it did not close its eyes for a long time.

Now the blue bird had become a living thing.

Instead, it was Baowu’s turn to come alive.

At the end of its life, it seemed to have seen itself running in the sunset that day; that was its lost youth.

...

The days passed quickly, and summer had ended.

Li Chu had been staying in the magistrate office for some time.

Yuhang Town had been peaceful all these days.

For those with deep grievances, the constables from the magistrate office would go to the scenes and solve them quickly. They would never give up until the disputes were resolved, justice never late.

...

No ghost had appeared since, making Li Chu feel doubtful whether there was really one ghost only behind all the cases.

The only thing that had changed was the soup that Gongsun Rou sent him.

She cooked Li Chu different soup on a different day. Sometimes it was tortoise soup, wolfberry lily soup, old duck soup with lingzhi and dates, mutton and cordyceps soup, and whatnot.

Li Chu also had doubts. “Why does all the soup sound like kidney-tonifying stuff?”

Gongsun Rou blushed at hearing that question. “It doesn’t hurt to nourish kidney.”

She had a point, Li Chu thought.

‘Indeed.’

One more thing; he had little contact with the outside world for the days he stayed in the magistrate office.

He did not know that he had become famous.

In the past, he had relied on returning customers, such as Zhou Dafu, Wang Longqi, and others, so he had little reputation back then.

But ever since he got rid of the Botchling in the House of Blossoming Spring, those prostitutes had taken his handsomeness and heroic deed all in with admiration.

...

In this era, the hubs of information circulation were basically large restaurants, tea shops, houses of ill fame, and other high-traffic places.

Among these places, brothels were the upper-class existence.

Those men who went to brothels would inevitably hear those prostitutes talking about Young Daoist Li and his good look whenever they mentioned strange cases that happened.

Soon the news spread throughout Yuhang Town.

That day, Gongsun Zhe, accompanied by Li Chu, went out to a banquet. The venue was in a restaurant in the town.

There was a stand dedicated to storytellers telling stories in the restaurant.

The storyteller raised the gavel and spoke in a low voice.

“It is easiest to feel sad on a frosty night when there is no comfort for the languished.

“Three glasses of wine down the throat, aggravating the sadness even more.

“As tears flow down my swollen eyes, reminding me you couldn’t be farther apart from me.

“My heart is as lonely as the moon, as it can never meet the sun.”

Bang!

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s not talk about princes and generals today, nor will we talk about talented men and beautiful ladies, but we will talk about a strange man in Yuhang Town. This strange man lives in Deyun Monastery on Ten Li Slope outside the town. He is none other than the young Daoist priest, Lu Chu.”

“This young Daoist Li Chu…”

Inside the private dining room, Li Chu blushed in embarrassment.

Most of the people who listened to ghost stories were men. However, when the storyteller told of Li Chu’s story, most of the audience were girls.

And they were apparently familiar with what Li Chu had done. They all cheered before the story even came to the most exciting part.

Apart from ‘

Young Daoist Li

‘, some also shouted ‘

Hubby

‘ and ‘

I love you

‘. There were even people calling out ‘

Mama loves you

‘.

It made Li Chu restless for a while.

After the old storyteller finished with Li Chu’s story, the girls dispersed in a whirlwind—their purpose was clear to see. But the storyteller had gotten more rewards than he would get in usual days.

The old storyteller chuckled, the joy of money signs filling his wrinkled face.

Li Chu waited for those girls to leave before daring to leave the private room.

He could not be more careful.

...

More pilgrims were coming to Deyun Monastery than usual recently.

Yu Qi’an had been struggling as he was under siege of girls and women of all ages for many days.

In the beginning, when there was a sudden surge of pilgrims, he was so happy, like a dog with two tails.

But as the number of pilgrims became more and more, the old Daoist priest gradually could not take it anymore.

Every evening, he was so dog-tired that he could almost not stand upright, holding a teacup filled with wolfberries, trembling as he looked toward Yuhang Town with tears in his eyes.

“When will you be back, my dear disciple?”

“I miss you.”

...

In fact, Li Chu had always been wondering in the magistrate office.

‘Why hasn’t the assassin of the Blue Wing Lodge come yet?’

‘Could it be that their plan is to let Gongsun Zhe die of old age?’

‘Huh?’

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