“Eat slow,” Xiangzi said, squatting and offering the paper bag.

The old man thanked him, snatching the buns and passing them to the girl.

“Hold on!” He shielded her head, taking one bun and nibbling slowly. “Grandpa’s good with one. The rest are yours!”

The girl stared at the buns, nodding after a pause, sniffling. “Grandpa, take two. I’ll have the rest!”

The savory meat aroma wafted, drawing hungry glares from nearby ragged refugees.

Wolf-like ferocity flashed in their eyes, targeting not just the buns but Xiangzi, the generous fool.

Wealth shouldn’t be shown. In South City, kindness came at a cost.

“There’s enough buns. I’ll stay till you finish,” Xiangzi said gruffly. “Once they’re in your stomachs, they’re yours.”

The old man froze, then nodded, pulling a bun he’d hidden in his coat.

Fresh from the steamer, the bun could scald skin, but he’d stayed silent.

Xiangzi said nothing more, eyeing the creeping refugees and picking up a broken brick.

With a slight squeeze, the brick crumbled to dust in his palm.

A pillar of vitality brought more than leg strength.

The refugees flinched, backing off—this fool’s a tough one.

No one dared eye the buns now.

Had Xiangzi left after tossing the buns, the old man and girl wouldn’t have lasted the night.

In his past life, he’d heard, “An innocent man’s only crime is his treasure.”

In South City, a few buns were treasure enough to kill for.

The old man shakily finished, picking up crumbs from the ground to eat.

As Xiangzi rose, the old man grabbed his pant leg, whispering, “Sir, someone’s been tailing you since you entered this street.”

Xiangzi’s eyes tightened, but his face stayed calm. He nodded, setting down the bean juice.

Removing his blue shirt, he draped it over the shivering girl and stood slowly.

“Good deeds bring good rewards” was nonsense in his old world.

Yet in Forty-Nine City, it proved true.

Had he not helped this pair, he’d have walked into a trap.

Two men followed him—one fat, one thin, their steps marking them as vitality barrier breakers.

A surprise attack might’ve overwhelmed even Xiangzi’s pillar of vitality.

“Two vitality barrier fighters? They think that highly of me?” Xiangzi sneered, fear absent.

In the martial world, everyone takes a blade sooner or later.

Thinking this, he halted, then shot forward like an arrow.

[Skill: Gale Stride]

[You run with great speed and possess strong lower body strength.]

Though his martial artist profession remained locked, with only the Rickshaw Puller title on his panel, Gale Stride was no small feat.

His running speed was stunning—ordinary ranked fighters couldn’t keep up.

Seeing Xiangzi bolt, the two stalkers knew they’d been made. Dropping stealth, they drew gleaming daggers and charged.

Relying on their vitality barrier strength, they barreled through the crowd.

But the fool ahead grew farther away, shocking them. How’s this kid faster than us?

Panting, they chased into a dark alley, losing his trail.

“Damn it, lost him! This puller’s faster than a rabbit!” The fat one gripped his dagger, twirling it furiously. “Old Three, now what?”

The thin one spat, scanning around. “Only two paths here. He can’t have gone far! Old Four, block that end!”

The fat one hesitated. “Split up?”

“You scared? He’s just a lousy puller! You, a vitality barrier fighter, afraid of him? Go block the path!” the thin one snapped. “Fat Master’s got thirty silver dollars on this!”

The fat one scratched his head, chuckling nervously, and ran to the other alley.

“Damn it, I saw him come this way,” the thin one muttered, edging along the wall with his dagger.

He cursed his luck. Should’ve struck in West City.

Thirty silver dollars, gone?

A Ma Liu guard, he’d followed Fat Master for years.

Back in the teahouse, he’d been the first to lunge at Xiangzi, only to fail, losing face.

Unable to swallow it, he’d vowed to Fat Master to cripple this ignorant third-class puller.

Against a mere puller, why’d a vitality barrier fighter like me need to worry?

Dusk fell, the sky streaked with blood-red clouds.

The alley was deathly quiet, not a soul in sight.

A sudden rustle.

The thin one tensed, snapping into a stance—only a wild cat darted out, yowling.

“Damn it,” he cursed, relaxing.

Then a bamboo basket toppled with a crash, and a shadow leaped out!

“You dare—”

Before he finished, a cloud of powder hit his face, burning his eyes like needles.

“Lime!” he gasped, eyes useless, swinging his dagger wildly while retreating.

Xiangzi didn’t back off. Planting a stance, he crouched and swept his right leg low.

Liu Tang’s Wind-Chasing Kick (Incomplete) had five moves; Xiangzi mastered Dragon’s Tail Sweep best.

With his panel’s precision, he struck the thin man’s ankle.

With leg strength that could snap a tree trunk, a human leg was nothing.

A crack rang out, the thin man’s ankle twisting grotesquely.

A scream tore from his throat.

Terror flashed in his eyes—this guy’s strength matches mine, a vitality barrier fighter?

Xiangzi pressed on, twisting his waist, left leg chaining into a flurry.

Leg shadows rained on the thin man’s lower body, shredding his shins to twisted flesh, barely held by skin.

Unsteady, the thin man faltered.

Xiangzi, prepared, sank his weight and rammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, targeting his heart.

The shoulder strike, taught by Uncle Jie, came from a spear technique.

With Xiangzi’s pillar of vitality, it roared with force.

The thin man’s heart burst, his scream muffled to a groan.

A thud—he slammed into the wall like a broken kite, blood trickling from his mouth, his lime-caked eyes still.

Xiangzi paused, tossing a stone at the man’s forehead—no response.

“Dead just like that?” Xiangzi muttered, dazed, his gaze dropping to his chest.

At some point, the thin man’s wild swing had slashed his shirt.

Luckily, the cut was shallow, only tearing cloth.

Unluckily, the kraft paper packet of vitality broth in his chest was sliced open.

Scarlet powder spilled out, ruined.

Xiangzi’s heart bled. My vitality broth! Twenty silver dollars!