The voice was so loud it nearly deafened the ears.
At the very least, Ji Nian couldn’t tell that it belonged to someone who had been drowning in alcohol for years.
Ji Nian waited a moment, and soon another round of curses erupted from inside. This time, she thought she could hear a third voice as well.
After a brief hesitation, she decided to take the risk and move closer to listen carefully.
"Being chosen by him is a blessing for you! Do you know how much dowry he’s offering!? I might as well sell you off for booze since raising you has been a waste! You’re going whether you like it or not!"
A shrill voice chimed in mockingly, "Oh, Brother Zhi, your girl here has quite the temper, but Boss Jin happens to love that fiery personality of hers."
"Being young isn’t an issue either. We’ll take her back and raise her for a few years, then she can give Boss Jin a healthy son."
Boss Jin…
Ji Nian suddenly remembered—the tobacco seller from North Street. He was already forty. How old was Zhiliao even?
Her stomach churned with disgust.
She wasn’t the only one. Zhiliao, the one at the center of it all, felt just as sickened.
"Get lost."
Her voice was sharp as a blade as she glared at the middleman.
The mediator flinched under the weight of her pitch-black eyes, which burned like the gaze of a vengeful spirit, and took a step back.
The man, seeing this, felt his pride wounded. After all, the price had already been settled, the deposit paid—all that was left was delivering the girl.
With a crash, he hurled a liquor bottle to the ground and lunged at Zhiliao.
The fight erupted instantly.
Zhiliao had spent this time absorbing knowledge like a sponge, refining herself even while running her street stall.
Unlike before, when she could only defend, she now found openings to strike back between dodges.
Ji Nian listened to the commotion, quietly inching closer to assess the situation.
Given how things were unfolding, Zhiliao would have no trouble escaping.
But as expected, the unexpected happened.
The middleman, lurking by the door.
Ji Nian caught sight of him carefully pulling a paper tube from his waistband and raising it to his lips—
Now!
Ji Nian, who had been hiding, suddenly shoved the window open and hurled the stone she’d been clutching straight at his head.
A direct hit to the temple. The paper tube slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground.
"Ah—!"
"Who’s there!?"
The man, locked in combat with Zhiliao, snapped his furious gaze toward the noise.
Ji Nian, her cap pulled low, leaped inside.
"You damn bastard! It’s you again!!"
Clearly, the man had mistaken Ji Nian for Ji Tingzhou.
Zhiliao’s eyes flickered with surprise, but there was no time for gratitude—she immediately threw herself back into the fight against the now-enraged man.
Ji Nian knocked out the middleman, who had been trying to crawl away, with a single punch before turning to join the fray.
The man was tall, and absurdly, despite years of heavy drinking, his body was a mass of knotted muscle. His strength was terrifying—Ji Nian staggered back two steps from the sheer force.
[What kind of monstrous strength is this?]
Is he even human?
Fortunately, Ji Nian had anticipated this. She seized the moment to fling a plastic bag at him.
Predictably, the man didn’t dodge. He smashed through it with a direct punch, only for green powder to explode all over him.
Ji Nian swiftly yanked Zhiliao back.
The man wiped his face, but before he could speak, his body swayed—then collapsed.
Ji Nian exhaled sharply. "With that much dosage, he’ll either wake up a fool or not at all."
She had spent the past few days grinding these herbs into powder, asking the others to gather them after their street stall shifts.
This place truly lived up to its reputation as a haven for flora—even in the filthiest corners, useful plants thrived.
No sooner had she spoken than Zhiliao bent down, picked up a shard of broken beer bottle, and walked over without a word.
Under Ji Nian’s uneasy gaze, she raised her hand—then slashed down in one brutal motion.
Blood gushed like a fountain from the man’s neck. His head lolled to the side, lifeless.
Dead.
Zhiliao remained in that position, her dark eyes fixed on the gruesome sight. Finally, the corner of her lips curled into a ghostly smile.
"I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long."
Ever since she could remember, she had dreamed of the day she could slaughter this beast with her own hands.
Ji Nian averted her gaze.
"Congratulations."
Zhiliao said, "Thank you."
Then, in the blink of an eye, she raised the same bloodied shard and, without hesitation, dragged it across her own face.
A deep, gory wound split her once-smooth skin.
Ji Nian’s face paled. She rushed forward, reaching out cautiously toward Zhiliao’s chin. "He’s already dead, why would you—"
The girl with blood dripping from her chin stared back at the anxious child before her and caught her outstretched hand.
"If not him, there will be others."
When Zhiliao was little, she hated being a girl—because the way people looked at her was like they were appraising merchandise before it even hit the shelves.
As she grew older, she realized it wasn’t her fault.
Why should she hate herself? It was their eyes that were wrong.
So she decided to change those looks—to turn their greed into fear and loathing.
She was still young. Without Ji Nian’s help today, she wouldn’t have stood a chance against this man. And even with him dead, Boss Jin wouldn’t give up.
Until she was strong enough, she had to protect herself.
"It’s just a face. My life matters more."
Zhiliao’s voice was calm.
Ji Nian’s lips trembled.
"That’s not what I’m upset about…"
Her eyes, filled with sorrow, lingered on the wound.
"Doesn’t it hurt?"
Zhiliao’s hardened gaze wavered for a moment, something in it softening.
After a pause, she gave Ji Nian a faint smile—one entirely different from the one before.
...
The middleman wasn’t dead. When he woke up and saw the raw, gaping wound on Zhiliao’s face, he nearly vomited in disgust.
After reporting back to Boss Jin, the man was clearly displeased, but since the deposit had been returned in full and North Street was already in turmoil, his attention soon shifted elsewhere.
When the others saw Zhiliao’s injury, none of them commented—except Wei Yang, who blinked and said, "So cool. Like a warrior."
Shen Rushan teased, "Do you even know what a warrior is?"
Wei Yang said it meant someone really good at fighting.
"Nope." Shen Rushan lifted his chin, adopting an unusually solemn tone. "A warrior is someone who, even if the enemy flings shit in your face, has the courage to fight back and the resolve to never retreat."
Wei Yang’s stomach growled loudly. "Can I eat it then?"
Ji Tingzhou sneered. "Try it, and I’ll have someone deal with you."
