Second Brother Clark didn’t even look up, thinking it was the skinny guy outside, dawdling and not coming in. He immediately shouted, “Feng Han, why aren’t you coming in and closing the door!”

Then came a string of disgruntled curses, making it clear that among the two, the skinny one was the oppressed.

Edward Jr. Sutton also stayed silent, simply carrying the iron spike inside.

“A lazy donkey shits and pisses the most at the mill. With the way you are, if you weren’t lucky, how could Big Brother Bolton have let you tag along? Serves you right to be timid and starve to death…” Second Brother Clark said with a frown, suddenly feeling something was off.

This kid, at least he’d usually try to argue or curry favor—why is he so quiet now?

He finally looked up, only to see a sharp iron spike gleaming as it thrust straight toward his chest.

“Ah!” Second Brother Clark cried out in shock, hurriedly rolling to dodge. But the ground was cluttered with all sorts of things—bits of rubble and wood. Though he reacted quickly, he didn’t manage to dodge completely. There was a “puff” as the spike stabbed into his side, and the intense pain made Second Brother Clark let out a miserable scream.

The weapon was pulled out, and a spray of blood gushed forth.

“Who—who are you?” Second Brother Clark, by the firelight, saw that the person standing before him was a young man, whose build was far less robust than his own. He felt a bit reassured, and then noticed that after missing with the first strike, the youth seemed flustered, his hand holding the weapon trembling slightly. Second Brother Clark thought he’d figured out the truth.

He moved closer, cursing fiercely, “Trying to rob me, are you? Do you know who I am? I’m one of Eldest Bolton’s men, you—ah!”

Edward Jr. Sutton didn’t respond at all, just stared at Second Brother Clark. When he saw him slowly approach, about to lunge and snatch his weapon, Edward Jr. Sutton suddenly dove forward and stabbed.

“Puff”—the iron spike pierced again, this time going straight through his chest and out his back.

Second Brother Clark’s eyes widened, unable to believe he’d actually died at the hands of a youth. He stared at the boy, unwilling to die in peace.

In his previous life, he’d injured people before, but this was his first time killing. He hadn’t felt much after the first kill, but now, after killing Second Brother Clark, Edward Jr. Sutton finally felt a bit of fear—his palms were sweating, and his back was soaked.

A gust of cold wind swept through the shrine, as if someone was wailing in resentment.

Edward Jr. Sutton closed his eyes. “Is there really such a thing as ghosts or gods in this world? Even if there are, I’m just repaying tooth for tooth, eye for eye. If I don’t kill, they’ll surely kill me.”

He silently repeated this to himself. When he opened his eyes, there was no more fear.

“This place is remote, but I can’t just leave the corpses lying around.”

“I heard earlier that these thugs have killed before, always sinking the bodies in ponds. Seems like that method works. Might as well sink these bodies in the river too.”

With that thought, Edward Jr. Sutton was about to drag the corpses away, but stopped: “Let’s see if they have any silver on them. Since I’ve killed them, I can’t leave the money behind.”

He searched and found a silver ingot weighing about five taels, plus some scattered bits of silver and copper coins—maybe another two or three taels.

“A pleasant surprise. Is this the money paid by the Daoist from Tongshan Temple? Why only five taels?” Edward Jr. Sutton quickly understood: “The Daoist from Tongshan Temple paid ten taels, Eldest Bolton took half as his cut—makes perfect sense.”

Pocketing the silver, Edward Jr. Sutton placed the two corpses on a broken wooden plank, not even bothering to clean up the blood. He dragged the plank straight to the riverbank, tied a stone to it, and with two splashes, tossed the bodies in. In no time, they sank out of sight.

“The snow is still falling, so the traces will soon be covered. Besides, even if someone finds out, there’ll be no witnesses.”

“People like this live in the gray areas, with blood on their hands. Even if they’re gone, no one would dare report it to the authorities. Of course, there’ll be revenge for sure.”

“But there’s a time lag. In the end, passing the imperial exams is still the best protection for now.”

The snow was heavy, and Edward Jr. Sutton was drenched in sweat. If he went outside now, he’d easily catch a chill, which was a dangerous illness in ancient times. So he returned to the shrine. Though he’d just killed two people, the bonfire was crackling, and the meat hanging over the fire was still giving off a mouthwatering aroma.

Edward Jr. Sutton didn’t eat, just struck a pose, closed his eyes to calm the discomfort from killing, and recalled what had just happened.

“The first assassination went okay, but the second time I was a bit flustered, which gave the second guy a chance. Sure enough, having killed before and never having killed are two completely different things.”

“It’s not really a matter of skill, but of mindset and experience.”

“Especially experience—a deviation of even a millimeter in that stab would have led to a completely different outcome.”

It had all happened so quickly. Edward Jr. Sutton pondered for a moment, adjusted his angle slightly, and immediately felt a sense of ease and fluency.

“Su-style Fist Technique Level 3 (58/2000)”—a prompt suddenly appeared on the iron spike, startling Edward Jr. Sutton. After a while, he realized what it was.

“Leveled up?” Edward Jr. Sutton examined it closely. For some reason, he felt it seemed a bit brighter, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Whatever, time to eat.”

He looked around and saw that in the main hall, the altar had a goddess statue with a divine curtain hanging down, surrounded by some shrimp and crab soldiers—this must be a water deity.

The offering table was empty—not even offerings, just some old incense ash in the burner, clearly showing it hadn’t been worshipped in a long time.

Such a scene made Edward Jr. Sutton shake his head. He bowed to the goddess in the shrine and said, “After all, I’ve borrowed this water deity’s place to rest. Even if there are no ghosts or gods, I should still show some respect—as a guest thanking the host.”