Whether it was the old Edward Jr. Sutton or the new Edward Jr. Sutton, neither could tolerate it. His face darkened as he reached out to touch: "The soil is still fresh!"

His gaze immediately fixed on the footprints. Thanks to the weather—there had been light snow for days—and since this was a graveyard, no one but the Su family would come here: "These footprints are fresh too. The person who dug just left not long ago."

Time to go all out!

Edward Jr. Sutton examined the tracks in the snow without a word and directly gave chase.

This might be the last snowfall of the year. The snow was falling harder and harder, but the footprints were still clear enough. Following them, he soon saw a shrine in the distance. Part of the wall had collapsed, but the main entrance was mostly intact, with a broken plaque above it—he couldn't make out the characters.

But inside, there was a red glow, wisps of smoke, and a mouthwatering aroma of meat. Edward Jr. Sutton held his breath and quietly crawled in through the collapsed section.

The shrine wasn't large. The courtyard was overgrown with withered grass and thorns. In the center stood an incense burner, surrounded by iron railings. Edward Jr. Sutton peered into the hall through the door and saw a shrine alcove inside. It was too dark to see clearly, but a divine curtain hung down, and it seemed to enshrine a goddess, though there was no incense burning.

The ground was a mess. A campfire licked with red flames, and a hanging pot seemed to be boiling a pork knuckle, filling the air with the smell of meat. Two men sat around it, eating meat and drinking wine with abandon, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Beside them lay a skull.

"Second Brother Clark, why are we digging up this grave and taking out bones that have been dead for decades? It's so unlucky. We'll have to burn a lot of incense when we get back." One man, who looked thin and small, spoke with his mouth full of meat, his words muffled.

"Heh, you and I both live by the blade, licking blood off knives. We've both survived two near-drownings—what's there to be afraid of?" Second Brother Clark, who was more robust, also gnawed on a bone. "Besides, though it was Big Brother Bolton who gave us the order, the real one behind this is the Daoist priest from Tongshan Temple. He needs this skull for a ritual—if there really are vengeful spirits, it won't be us who suffer, the priest will handle it."

"The Daoist priest from Tongshan Temple? Damn, what did the Su family kid do to offend him, to be targeted like this?" The thin man asked again, "And why use his great-grandfather for the ritual instead of his father?"

"I heard it's because of feng shui. His great-grandfather's feng shui is the best. As for how he offended them, who knows? Not our business anyway."

"True, a job for ten taels of silver isn't easy to find."

Edward Jr. Sutton listened to them eating and drinking inside, their discussion over, and thought to himself: "The Daoist priest from Tongshan Temple? That's a legitimate Daoist, with an official talisman from the court. Why is he targeting me?"

"Big Brother Bolton? I heard he's a local thug from the county town. Didn't expect him to be involved in this mess."

"No matter what, it's late at night, the snow is heavy, and we're outside the city. I'll start with you two!" Edward Jr. Sutton thought. He was a clear-headed person, knowing that killing wasn't just about martial skill, but about how ruthless and decisive one could be. If your heart is truly ruthless, even chopsticks can kill—at this moment, his gaze had already locked onto the iron railing of the incense burner outside.

Sharpen it a bit, and it becomes a deadly short spear!

The Su family boxing style was originally a killing art evolved from the spear!

Chapter Three: Night Assault

Outside the shrine, the night wind howled, as if wild wolves were baying.

"Tsk, in a dump like this, running into wolves wouldn't be surprising. But was there ever a shrine here?" Though he knew it was unlikely, the thin man couldn't help but worry, craning his neck to look outside. "I don't remember one. Am I mistaken?"

As he spoke, he saw a dark shadow flicker outside and immediately cried out, "Second Brother Clark, someone's out there!"

"Huh?" Second Brother Clark was startled too. If someone had overheard what they'd just said, it could spell trouble. He was about to toss aside his meat bone and go check when a wildcat's cry sounded from outside.

"Look at you! Scared by a wildcat!" Second Brother Clark instantly relaxed, spat, and glared at the thin man, cursing him.

The thin man looked embarrassed. "I... I must have misheard."

After a while, the thin man couldn't help but stand up again. Seeing Second Brother Clark glare at him, he said awkwardly, "Um... I'm going outside to take a leak."

Second Brother Clark frowned. "Make it quick, and go far away. I'm eating—don't let me smell it!"

He muttered to himself: Why is this kid so troublesome?

The thin man was in a bad mood too as he headed outside, thinking, "What's the big deal? We're both working for Big Brother Bolton. Why should I be afraid of you?"

He quickened his pace, unfastening his belt, not planning to go far. At a spot a little distance away, he relieved himself against the wall.

It was February, and the cold wind cut to the bone. The thin man hurried to finish, and as he was about to pull up his pants and fasten his belt, the dark sky was suddenly lit by a sliver of moonlight breaking through the clouds. In that moment, he seemed to see, right on the wall in front of him, two shadows appear.

"Ah, what is that..."

Before he could turn around in fright, a sharp pain, cold to the core, struck his chest a split second later.

Looking down, he saw a sharp iron tip, dripping with blood—his own blood? Was he going to die here?

As the iron spike was pulled out, his unwillingness and resentment escaped in a muffled groan, and he collapsed silently.

"This skinny one was easy enough. Only one left inside." Edward Jr. Sutton dragged the corpse to the corner of the wall and looked toward the shrine's door.

Without bothering to hide his footsteps, he strode forward, iron spike in hand.