But me?
I could jump.
"Let's see…"
I pushed off the ground, hard. The force shot through my legs, and I flew upward—high enough to look down at the tops of trees.
"Whoa—!" I laughed, wind ripping through my hair, branches whipping past as I twisted mid-air. My body moved on instinct, ducking and shifting to avoid every obstacle like I'd done it a thousand times before.
From up there, I saw them. Tiny shapes moving through the forest, careless, unguarded.
My grin widened until it almost hurt.
"Found you."
It didn't even take five minutes.
I tightened my grip around the dagger until my knuckles cracked.
"Let's see what this skill can really do."
"Venom Fang."
The blade started changing right in my hand. I could feel it — something moving from my palm into the dagger, like heat crawling through my veins.
The colour darkened from dull grey to a dark green, and it smelt sharp, almost like acid.
I could sense the dagger; it was hungry for their blood.
I looked up.
Liu Fang was walking, just ahead of me, laughing with the others, his back wide open.
They thought they were safe. They didn't even sense me.
I crouched lower, taking a slow breath.
My heart was steady, my eyes locked on his spine.
Rare bloodline or not, he was still flesh.
And flesh bleeds.
I crouched low, dagger tight in both hands. My breath slowed.
Then I jumped.
The wind rushed against my face, cold and sharp. For a heartbeat there was nothing but the wind in my ears and my own pulse — no other thought.
I came down hard.
The dagger sank in — and all the laughter, the years of being called trash, the faces that looked down on me — they all poured out with his blood.
It wasn't just him I stabbed. It was every word, every sneer, every damn day I swallowed my pride.
I twisted the blade, feeling it grind against bone. The poison took hold fast; I could feel the life drain from him through the hilt.
He dropped to his knees and fell forward.
I didn't stop there.
Liu Fang twitched once — then went limp.
The dagger was still buried deep in the back of his neck, right through the spine.
Warm blood sprayed against my hand and face, running down his back as his body collapsed forward.
He hit the ground with a dull thud, his limbs jerking once before going still.
They froze — eyes wide, mouths open — and I felt something warm and sharp inside my chest.
Zhao Min stood to my left. He Jian on my right.
We were close — too close — and they saw everything.
Their eyes went wide. Their mouths hung open. For a second, nobody even breathed.
Zhao Min's lips trembled. "What the… what the fuck…"
He Jian's face tightened, his whole body stiff. "You…" he muttered, barely getting the words out. "You actually killed him?"
I pulled the dagger free. The sound it made was wet — like tearing meat. Blood dripped down my wrist and hit the dirt.
I stood up slowly, facing both of them, the dagger loose in my hand.
Their eyes followed every movement. I could see it — the disbelief, the confusion, and the fear trying to hide behind their anger.
"Shen Yan…" Zhao Min said, voice cracking. "You… you killed Liu Fang…"
He Jian snapped, shouting loud enough for the trees to shake. "You bastard! You think you can touch us!? Trash like you!?"
I tilted my head, a faint smile pulling at my lips.
"Touch you?" I said quietly. "I already did."
Their eyes twitched. Their hands were shaking.
I could see it — the fear they were trying so hard to hide.
The same look they once gave me, I was now seeing on their faces.
And it felt good.
My whole body was trembling with thrill. Every heartbeat felt sharp, alive.
It was like my blood was singing, begging for more.
I didn't feel a single ounce of guilt. Not even a flicker of hesitation.
Only pure satisfaction.
Their fear was beautiful. I smiled without even realising it.
I crouched low. I didn't want to give them a chance to breathe. Not even any room to attack me.
My eyes were on both of them. Zhao Min's hands already glowed faint green—poison. One wrong move and I'd be done before I even got close.
"RockSkin".
The word left my mouth before I thought. My skin went hard—heavy and solid like rock. It tightened under my shirt, like armour forming from the inside.
Good. Now I could move.
I kicked off the dirt, fast. He Jian was in front—his fists could shake the ground. If he hit it once, I'd lose my balance, maybe even break something. I couldn't let him.
So I went for his legs first.
I swung the dagger in a clean horizontal slash—fast and low. The blade cut through his thigh with a wet sound. He screamed, his knees buckled, and he crashed down, blood spilling fast. Good. One puncher down.
Before the sound of his fall even faded, I was already turning. Zhao Min flinched, poison sparking on his palms, trying to aim. Too slow.
I came up from below, blade dragging upward from the dirt. He dropped his arms to block, but my dagger slipped through the gap, slicing up his forearm to his shoulder.
Blood splattered my face. He gasped, stepped back, poison bursting wild in the wrong direction. It hit the ground.
The next wave hit my chest, but RockSkin held. The thorns shattered on contact, bouncing off like dry twigs.
I moved back, one step, then two, in a zigzag motion, not giving him a chance to aim again.
Zhao Min's poison dripped from his fingers. He Jian tried to stand, but his legs gave out again. He fell back to the dirt, gasping.
They were shaking.
"Why? Why?" Zhao Min yelled, his voice breaking. "Why are you doing this?!"
He Jian spat blood, his voice trembling. "You're still trash! You'll always be trash!"
I looked at them, both crawling and bleeding, and I smiled—quiet, cold.
You left him to die. So I'll leave you to rot."
I turned away, taking a few steps back.
Let the poison spread. Let it burn.
I'll watch you die slowly, the way you made Chen Wu die.
And in the back of my head, I swear I heard it —
"Make them pay."
"Already did," I whispered.