Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 30

If someone tells Ye Zhou, “One day, you’ll raise a gun to a stranger and kill him,” Ye Zhou would roll his eyes.

But now, standing before this man, whom he has never met before, his hand holding the gun doesn’t shake at all.

The man before him looks no different from any ordinary person—perhaps just a bit fatter. But this fat, when compared to the local natives, can barely be considered standard by modern standards.

He has thick eyebrows, a square face, and full lips—he looks rather ordinary. His face makes it easy for one to think he is an upright person, someone with a heart to help the weak. He wears the skin of a good person, but underneath, his soul has long been hollowed out.

Zhao Changsheng’s vision isn’t as sharp as Ye Zhou’s. He can only tell that the figure standing on the hillside is a young man in strange clothes, but he can’t make out Ye Zhou’s face or what he is holding.

“What do you want?!” Zhao Changsheng shouts at Ye Zhou. “We’ve never wronged each other! You killed my brother—aren’t you afraid of divine punishment? Afraid you’ll fall into the eighteenth level of hell after death?! If you stop now, we’ll pretend none of this ever happened!”

Ye Zhou’s voice is expressionless. “When you use unarmed refugees as food to fill your stomach, did you think about the eighteen levels of hell? Since you don’t believe in them, why are you using gods and Buddhas as your amulets? If the gods and Buddhas knew what you did, would you still be standing here?”

Zhao Changsheng smiles bitterly.

He knows this young man isn’t going to let him off.

The bandits behind Zhao, who are still breathing, shout, “My Lord! Fight him!”

“My Lord, kill him!”

“My Lord…”

Zhao Changsheng turns a deaf ear to the shouts. He spits blood onto the ground and sneers, “Where are the gods and Buddhas in this world?” He looks up at Ye Zhou. “Since you’re the leader, are you too afraid to come down? If you don’t dare do it yourself, then what kind of hero are you?”

Ye Zhou knows Zhao Changsheng is trying to provoke him. He isn’t a match for the veteran general in close combat, but still, he jumps down.

He needs to force himself.

Standing at the top, looking down at Zhao Changsheng, he can’t pull the trigger.

But the moment Ye Zhou lands and hasn’t yet steadied himself—

“Ah!” Zhao Changsheng raises his long knife and rushes at Ye Zhou.

Kill him! If he can take the enemy commander in a direct strike, it will be an effortless victory!

Compared to Zhao Changsheng, Ye Zhou is clearly the weaker one—he’s at the lowest possible body fat for a man, with hardly any muscle or bulk. Zhao Changsheng is twice his width, not to mention his rugged square face that gives him an edge.

The bandits crane their necks, eager to see their king chop off the opponent’s head, saving them from their plight.

Everyone stares.

But the expected scene doesn’t unfold.

There’s a “bang”—

Zhao Changsheng suddenly feels a chill in his chest. Confused, he looks down and sees blood gushing from his wound. He tries to cover it with his hand, but the blood won’t stop.

Under the gaze of countless eyes, Zhao Changsheng collapses to his knees.

His legs give way, and he turns his knife into a crutch, half-kneeling on the ground, barely able to support his weight.

Ye Zhou looks at the gun in his hand in a daze.

He has just pulled the trigger on the man who was rushing toward him with a long knife.

If he hadn’t dared, Zou Ming behind him would have raised a gun to protect him.

Ye Zhou feels as though he’s stepping on cotton—everything feels like a strange dream. One moment, he is an upstanding citizen who abides by the law in modern society, and the next, he is taking someone’s life with a gun.

“You… you’re a demon…” Zhao Changsheng can no longer stay upright. He collapses to the ground, staring up at the sky. The scorching sun doesn’t make him blink. He murmurs, “I, Zhao Changsheng… wasn’t beaten by a man…”

Ye Zhou approaches and speaks softly, only loud enough for the two of them to hear: “I’m not a monster. I’m just a mortal. If there are gods and Buddhas, and reincarnation is real, then remember this: don’t run into me in the next life.”

Zhao Changsheng stretches out a hand, trying to grab him. His arms wave aimlessly, but his eyes have lost all life. He can’t see anything.

He opens his mouth, letting out rasping breaths.

Ye Zhou simply watches him struggle.

He has told himself not to look away. He needs to see Zhao Changsheng die with his own eyes—to remember forever the person whose life he has taken.

After a few minutes, Zhao Changsheng stops struggling. His hands fall limp at his sides, and his eyes remain wide open even in death.

Ye Zhou stands up and slowly turns away, not looking at the bandits behind him.

He walks toward the hillside. At the same time, Zou Ming and Sara step out from behind it.

Ye Zhou passes them by. His normally gentle face is devoid of expression, making it impossible to read his thoughts.

The body of the once mighty Zhao Changsheng lies on the ground, no longer a mountain king, but just another corpse—no different from all the others.

After a person dies, high or low, status or power, it all turns to dust.

Ye Zhou sits on the hillside, observing Zou Ming and Sarah as they eliminate the remaining bandits one by one. Wu Yan and the others follow suit. He feels no fear, no regret.

It doesn’t even feel real that he has killed someone.

It seems as though nothing has happened at all—and as if it isn’t him who has taken a life.

“Immortal, drink some water.” Cao’er’s mother has somehow made her way up the mountain. She has witnessed Ye Zhou killing, but she isn’t scared. Instead, she brings him a cup of water. Ye Zhou takes it, and after a few sips, he asks, “Li, have you ever killed anyone?”

Cao’er’s mother whispers, “When I was fleeing, I had to abandon the youngest girl.” She doesn’t cry, but her expression turns as numb as Ye Zhou’s. “She was too young. She couldn’t walk far, couldn’t run fast. She was a burden, couldn’t be sold. I couldn’t kill her… But she died because of me. Immortal… For people like us, it’s so hard to just survive…”

Ye Zhou remains silent. At that moment, he strangely understands Cao’er’s mother’s state of mind.

For Cao’er’s mother, her daughter is the only reason she lives.

Zou Ming doesn’t use a gun. While bullets are cheap, they aren’t free. He picks up a long knife from the ground and rushes toward the remaining bandits. One swift strike, and they fall.

“I thought you were rich.” Sarah jumps onto a bandit’s shoulder, twists his neck, and raises an eyebrow at Zou Ming. “What, you so poor you have to use melee weapons to survive?”

Zou Ming doesn’t respond, his face unreadable as he swings his knife, cutting down the bandit in his path.

When the man falls, Zou Ming mutters, “The daughter of the Duchess, who couldn’t even feed herself, has lived for four hundred years without making any progress.”

Sarah smiles but doesn’t retort. She pierces another fleeing bandit’s chest, pulling out his heart as she does.

“Boss didn’t look so good just now,” she says. “First time killing someone. Think he’ll have nightmares tonight?”

“He’ll get used to it.” Zou Ming keeps walking.

Sarah, her short legs moving quickly, follows. “He won’t get used to it. Only you think he’s unaffected by killing.”

Zou Ming frowns and raises his voice, “He’s stronger than anyone.”

Sarah grins. “So being strong means he has to be okay with killing?”

She laughs. “I won’t argue with you.”

Sarah jumps ahead.

Zou Ming pauses, waiting for Wu Yan and the others to enter the cave.

There are still many bandits hiding inside—those who haven’t ventured out earlier and avoided the arrows. They’re looking for a chance to flee.

Zou Ming and Sarah clear the way while Wu Yan and the others finish off the remaining stragglers.

“Brother Zou!” Wu Yan pants, blood splattered on his knife. He wipes sweat from his forehead. “There are too many of them!”

It isn’t easy to strike a fatal blow. Every cut has to be full strength; otherwise, it’s torturous for both the victim and the one wielding the knife.

After a few attempts, they grow exhausted.

They’re only able to let Cao’er and the others, armed with crossbows, handle the remaining threats.

Zou Ming nods. “No rush.”

Wu Yan exhales in relief. “It’s a shame the Immortal’s magic weapon wasn’t used.”

Zou Ming responds, “Once we’re in the cave, we’ll use it.”

Wu Yan asks, “Brother Zou, all these people—strong, able-bodied men. Why not go south? Why stay in a godforsaken place like this and play bandit king?”

“Because they bully the weak and fear the strong,” Zou Ming replies calmly. “It’s just in their nature.”

As Zou Ming walks in, Wu Yan glances back toward where Ye Zhou is. He can’t see Ye Zhou, but he’s sure The Lord Immortal is waiting for them there.

Men like them have lives as worthless as dust. Forget nobility—even these bandits can skin them alive and trample them without consequence. They have nothing to rely on but gods.

Wu Yan grips his knife tighter.

He’s just an ordinary mortal, but now he follows The Lord Immortal.

That’s his luck. And he will hold on to it.

The Lord Immortal is kind and gentle, like a brother and a father. But when facing the evil that has plagued them, he becomes something else entirely.

When the emperor is angry, corpses float thousands of miles away.

When The Lord Immortal is angry, he is no different than the emperor.

Wu Yan follows Zou Ming’s steps, panting, ready to strike down the bandits who are still fleeing and hiding.

As the sun dips behind the hills,

Not a single one of the four hundred bandits remains alive.