Raising Orphans, Not Assassins

Yuhang County, the southern forest outside the city.

In the clearing, a smooth, large greenstone lay under the dappled sunlight.

A middle-aged man in gray robes sat atop the stone. His face was lean, with deep-set eyes, a high, aquiline nose, and sharp features.

His pupils, unlike those of Central Plains people, gleamed with a strange jade-green hue under the sunlight.

Beside the stone, a massive tiger lay sprawled. The beast stretched over two meters in length, its fur sparse and dull, betraying its old age.

It rested with its head on its front paws, eyes half-closed, basking in the warmth of the sun.

Though aged, the tiger’s presence still carried an air of primal ferocity.

Suddenly—

The tiger’s eyes snapped open, flashing with a wild and murderous glint.

Its powerful claws dug into the earth as it rose, staring intently into the distance.

From within the forest, a man dressed as a carriage driver dashed forward, a young girl slung over his back.

The tiger bared its fangs, its gaping maw revealing jagged, yellowed teeth. Its crimson tongue, lined with backward-facing barbs, flicked out menacingly.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from its throat.

The gray-robed man stepped down from the stone, lightly patting the tiger’s head.

The beast shut its mouth and lay back down, paying no further attention to the approaching figure.

The carriage driver leaped forward in quick strides, stopping before the gray-robed man.

He set the girl down, then dropped to one knee, cupping his hands in a respectful salute.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Please, Left Envoy, grant me the antidote.”

Excitement and barely restrained elation laced Xiao Liu’s voice.

This was it.

After this mission, he would no longer be bound to Qilin Pavilion.

He would be free.

The simple, idyllic life of the countryside awaited him.

The gray-robed man’s expression remained impassive. He nodded slightly, letting out a soft, eerie whistle.

“Screech—”

The next moment—

Whoosh!

A violent gust of wind howled through the clearing.

The tiger, which had been resting beside the stone, sprang into motion like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Its cavernous mouth gaped open, a rancid stench of blood and decay spilling forth.

Xiao Liu’s heart seized in terror.

He tried to dodge—

But with one knee on the ground, he had no chance.

"Roar!"

The aged tiger’s fangs clamped onto Xiao Liu’s throat.

Its sharp teeth easily punctured his soft flesh.

Hot, humid breath washed over him, and for an instant, his neck felt strangely warm and wet.

Then came the pain.

Searing, unbearable agony.

Xiao Liu’s eyes bulged. His body convulsed. Darkness swallowed his vision.

The tiger loosened its grip slightly—then chomped down again with crushing force.

A sickening crack echoed through the clearing.

Xiao Liu stopped moving.

His body crumpled to the ground like a sack of cotton, lifeless.

The tiger gnawed on his flesh, blood dripping from its whiskers.

Nearby, the girl lay on the ground, her face splattered with hot blood.

She was no more than a meter away from the beast.

She had witnessed everything.

Wide-eyed, her delicate face froze in a solemn expression.

Then, she took a deep breath—

And promptly fainted.

… 

"Crunch... Snap..."

The tiger hunched over Xiao Liu’s corpse, its muzzle and whiskers soaked in crimson.

It swallowed something—an organ of some kind.

(Yuyu: Ew!)

The gray-robed man strode toward the unconscious girl.

He reached out, grabbing the collar of her clothes.

“How dare you, wretch!”

A sharp, furious voice rang through the forest.

From the shadows of the trees, a middle-aged man in a purple robe emerged.

His face was smooth and beardless, his complexion ashen with anger.

Before the echoes of his words had faded, he had already closed the distance.

From within his flowing sleeves, a pale hand shot out, striking toward the gray-robed man’s face with lightning speed.

Yet the gray-robed man remained unfazed.

He inhaled lightly—

And exhaled a chilling, misty breath.

"Hoo—"

A wave of cold air, so frigid it turned the moisture in the air to frost, surged forward.

The purple-robed man’s pupils shrank.

Sensing the deadly chill, he forcibly halted his strike.

The abrupt recoil caused his internal energy to backfire, and a sickly flush of red rose to his pale face.

Meanwhile, the gray-robed man hoisted the unconscious girl effortlessly.

Once again, he whistled—

“Screech—”

The tiger leapt forward.

With a practiced motion, the gray-robed man tossed the girl into the beast’s jaws.

The tiger, as if well-trained, caught her clothing in its fangs, then turned and bolted into the depths of the forest.

The purple-robed man’s expression twisted with shock and fury.

Just as he prepared to give chase, the gray-robed man exhaled another blast of white mist.

The icy vapor shot forward like a freezing gale.

The purple-robed man couldn’t dodge in time—he inhaled a sliver of the deadly cold.

His body jerked backward.

His expression turned from red to pale.

He trembled violently.

Then—he coughed.

"Cough! Cough! Cough!"

He staggered, unable to suppress the violent spasms wracking his body.

Teeth clenched, he spat out a single phrase between gasps.

“Frost Hell Demon Technique!”

The gray-robed man said nothing.

His eerie green eyes remained fixed on his opponent, cold and merciless.

…

"Thud... Thud..."

In the forest, the deep, rhythmic sound of chopping echoed.

A massive iron axe cleaved into the trunk of an ancient tree.

With each strike, the tree quivered, shedding broken twigs and leaves.

Two strong, tanned arms gripped the axe handle, their muscles bulging with each powerful swing.

Wood chips scattered, piling onto the forest floor.

Da Ming stood shirtless, clad in a rough yellow tunic.

His movements were steady, his sweat pouring like rain. A faint mist of heat rose from his body.

Two years had passed.

Da Ming had grown to a towering 1.8 meters, taller than most grown men.

His frame had transformed into a mountain of muscle—broad shoulders, thick arms, and veins pulsing along his forearms with each swing.

He looked less like a man and more like a walking beast.

And yet, despite his imposing physique, his face remained the same—honest and guileless, just as it had been when he was ten.

In these two years, his soon-to-be father-in-law, Zhang Long, had passed down all his knowledge as a woodcutter.

Da Ming no longer needed to follow the other woodcutters up and down the mountains.

His training methods had grown... unconventional.

Sometimes, he had to lift boulders for strength training—activities that might terrify the others.

"Thud!"

"Thud!"

Two more heavy swings.

Da Ming set down the axe and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Steam rose from his body, thick as if he had just stepped out of a steaming bath.

If any ordinary person saw him now, they would be utterly dumbfounded.

Taking a deep breath, Da Ming walked over to a large stone, about the size of a water jar.

He plopped down, grabbed his water pouch, and drank deeply.

As Da Ming drank from the waterskin, his mind wandered.

He needed to replace his iron axe.

The forty-jin refined iron axe in his hands was feeling lighter and lighter, almost unwieldy.

A heavier one, around eighty jin, should be just right.

Sitting on the blue stone, he quietly imagined wielding his future axe.

"Whoosh..."

A sudden gust of wind swept through the forest, carrying a strong scent of blood.

The metallic tang instantly sharpened Da Ming’s senses.

His hands moved swiftly, pulling the embedded iron axe from the tree trunk.

He scanned the surroundings.

Not far down the forest path, a massive, two-meter-long striped tiger was sprinting toward him, carrying a bloodied figure in its jaws.

The tiger’s golden eyes flickered over Da Ming, but its course remained unchanged—it was heading straight toward him.

Da Ming’s grip on his axe tightened, his usually simple and honest face taking on a serious expression.

The person in the tiger’s jaws, dressed in tattered clothes, looked like a young girl. Whether she was alive or dead was unclear.

The distance between them closed rapidly.

Twenty meters...

Ten meters...

Six meters...

Five meters...

Da Ming’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

His throat felt dry. He swallowed, tightening his grip on the axe.

The tiger was getting closer.

Three meters...

Two meters...

The beast showed no signs of stopping.

Its fierce golden eyes locked onto him, its fur still stained with fresh blood.

Da Ming noticed strands of flesh hanging from the tiger’s face—it had just eaten someone!

With the tiger nearly upon him, he acted.

"Hah!"

With a deep roar, Da Ming summoned all his strength.

His muscles bulged, veins popping under his tanned skin as he lifted the iron axe high.

His feet, clad in simple cloth shoes, dug into the earth.

And then—he swung.

The refined iron axe cleaved downward, its blade flashing like a falling star.

But the tiger was swift.

It leaped, dodging the lethal strike at the last moment.

"Beast!"

Da Ming bellowed in fury, thinking the tiger was attacking him.

Without hesitation, he twisted his body, bringing the axe around.

The razor-sharp edge gleamed coldly in the sunlight—

And then—

"Slash!"

The axe bit deep into the tiger’s hindquarters.

Blood splattered, dyeing the ground red.

"Roar!"

The tiger let out a pained snarl, its jaws snapping open—

The girl it had been carrying fell to the ground.

Da Ming’s powerful strike had severed the tiger’s hind leg completely.

A fountain of blood gushed from the wound.

The aging beast, already past its prime, had not expected this mere woodcutter to strike back.

It staggered, struggling to stay on its feet, letting out a pained howl.

Da Ming’s eyes burned red.

Seizing the opportunity, he stepped forward—

"Thud!"

With practiced precision, he swung the axe down in a single, decisive motion.

"Slash!"

The blade sank into the tiger’s thick neck.

The force behind the blow was absolute.

The axe severed flesh and bone in an instant.

The great tiger’s head rolled to the ground with a dull thud.

For two years, Da Ming had honed his skills by chopping trees, never missing the same spot twice.

Now, that skill had cleaved through the king of the forest.

A geyser of hot blood erupted from the severed neck, drenching Da Ming’s face and soaking his coarse hemp clothes in crimson.

Yuyu: This is the current situation of the Challenge goals

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