As soon as he stepped out of the inner city gate, Samuel Bennett heard his own Senior Miller let out a muffled laugh: “Junior Bennett, you’ve been targeted, huh?”

“Charles Harris.”

Those few people were blatantly lying in wait here; of course Samuel Bennett could see them, and he even recognized them.

The tallest among them was called Charles Harris, the lover of that woman who had come to his house the other day. Usually, he bullied the weak and cursed at animals—he was a notorious troublemaker in their area.

“Watch this!”

David Miller chuckled ‘hehe’, raised his voice, and called out to the few thugs who were about to slip away: “Hey, punks, get over here to grandpa!”

Charles Harris and his group all froze, turned their heads, and their faces looked worse than crying: “Charles Harris greets Big Brother Miller…”

“Big brother? Who let you call me that?”

Before he finished speaking, David Miller’s palm, as big as a fan, had already landed on Charles Harris’s face, sending blood and teeth flying:

“Call me Mr. Miller!”

“Ow—”

Charles Harris was knocked to the ground with a single blow, wailing and crying: “Hu, Mr. Miller, w-why did you hit me?”

“What? Grandpa can’t hit you?”

David Miller kicked him again, and Charles Harris rolled several times, his vision going black—he was nearly kicked to death.

The other thugs were trembling with fear; they didn’t even dare to run, let alone fight back.

They only bullied honest folks—when faced with a butcher like David Miller, how could they act tough?

“Grandpa, Grandpa Miller, please, stop hitting me…”

Charles Harris was beaten senseless, lying on the ground begging for mercy, his pants soaked through.

“Filthy scum like you dare to ruin someone’s family?”

David Miller looked at him with disgust, spat a thick yellow glob right onto Charles Harris’s face, then kicked him flying again:

“Get lost, you bastard!”

Charles Harris groaned, unable even to crawl up.

Two thugs dragged him away, howling in misery.

“Thank you, Senior Miller.”

Samuel Bennett quickly cupped his fists in thanks, feeling quite satisfied inside.

“What are you thanking me for? I’m only helping you this once. Scum like that are the hardest to deal with—if you want to solve it, you’ll have to rely on yourself.”

David Miller waved his hand: “If you want to thank someone, thank the old man.”

Samuel Bennett nodded, becoming more cautious in his heart.

He’d only met David Miller a few times; this time he stepped in because William Walker had asked him to. If he wanted to resolve the threat, he’d have to do it himself.

“But you don’t need to worry too much.”

Seeing Samuel Bennett silent, David Miller added, “Most of these thugs are poor, relying on their ruthlessness to get by. After you train for a few days, they won’t dare mess with you.”

As they walked, Samuel Bennett didn’t waste the opportunity—he asked David Miller for advice on knife techniques and inquired about things in the outer city.

After passing a few streets and nearing the square, David Miller suddenly stopped, pulled Samuel Bennett aside, and turned into a small alley.

“Hm?”

Samuel Bennett was startled, then saw that at some point a tall platform had been erected in the square. An old Daoist, who looked otherworldly, was chanting something.

Below the platform, a large crowd stood or sat—old and young, men and women—but all were silent, making the scene extremely eerie.

“This outer city is no place to stay, no place to stay…”

David Miller muttered, his face looking grim: “Damn it, even my own brothers have been dragged in.”

“Weird, weird!”

David Miller repeated the word ‘weird’ twice, pulling Samuel Bennett to take a detour, not even daring to show his face.

“Is Senior Miller really afraid of this Liansheng Sect?”

Samuel Bennett was moved.

In the past half year, this was the first time he’d seen someone dislike the Liansheng Sect. Everyone else, including his own grandmother, thought this sect healed the sick and saved lives—a benevolent faith.

Over time, he’d almost thought he was just being paranoid.

Now, seeing David Miller’s face full of fear, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Me, afraid of them?”

David Miller’s face darkened, flatly denying it. He glanced around, then lowered his voice: “This Liansheng Sect is really strange!”

“Aren’t they supposed to heal the sick and save people?”

Samuel Bennett pretended not to understand.

“Burning a few talismans can heal the sick? If they really had that skill, why not serve the emperor, instead of coming here to treat us poor folks?”

David Miller let out a few cold laughs and said:

“This year, more people in the outer city have died from illness than in the past three or five years combined, and they’re all young people. Heh…”

At this point, David Miller suddenly fell silent. Samuel Bennett looked up sharply and saw, outside the alley, a person dressed in white as if in mourning, leading a group past them.

The leader even glanced at David Miller.

“That was close…”

David Miller gasped for breath, sweat beading on his forehead. Seeing Samuel Bennett’s strange look, he grew annoyed:

“If I hadn’t just ‘changed blood’ a few days ago, I’d have taken a knife and led people to wipe out that damn sect already!”

Samuel Bennett had only asked out of curiosity, but hearing David Miller’s words, he immediately caught something important:

“Changed blood?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right, you just joined.”

David Miller wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and, not wanting to move for a while, leaned against the wall to rest:

“When we practice martial arts, whether it’s with blades, spears, fists, or kicks, it all comes down to who’s faster and stronger. But once your body is tempered to a certain point, if you want to get stronger, you have to ‘change blood’.”

Change blood…

Listening to David Miller, Samuel Bennett’s eyes lit up.