Chapter Seventy-Six: Everyone in Chaos Is a Fool, Part Two

"Xinzhu!!"

Collapsing to the ground, Ming Tian was stunned.

There were still two drops of blood, warm from Xinzhu's body, on his face.

If the princess hadn’t reacted even faster than that man just now, that knife would likely have plunged right into his eye socket. But...

With a dull thud, Xiao Xinzhu fell to the ground, motionless.

“Xinzhu, are you alright?!”

What on earth was going on?

However, when he helped Xinzhu up, Ming Tian was truly at a loss.

He saw that the wide, plain sleeve of Xinzhu’s robe had been sliced open, with large swathes of red staining the entire sleeve.

Hey, this isn’t funny—don’t tell me her whole hand’s been cut off?

“Your... Your Grace, could you... umm... let go of me…” At that moment, Xinzhu, whom he was holding, let out a shy, delicate voice.

Let go?

Ming Tian was taken aback, finally realizing something was wrong.

Xinzhu had fallen face down, and in order to help her up, his hand had landed somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t have been.

Her graceful chest was soft and warm, and the sensation passed right through his palm.

No, no, this wasn’t the time to be thinking about that.

In a panic, he hurriedly changed his position, laying her on her back. Ming Tian didn’t even notice that Xinzhu, as she lay in his arms, showed not the slightest sign of pain.

He lifted the sleeve, and to his surprise, found that apart from the arm being stained crimson, there was only a tiny half-centimeter cut—barely a scratch, not even worth a bandage.

Huh? No real injury? What’s going on? If there isn’t a wound, where did all this blood come from?

Ming Tian looked down at Xinzhu in his arms, only to see her blushing like a ripe persimmon.

“Xinzhu, this blood…” Ming Tian didn’t have time to finish before he noticed there was no smell of blood at all, but rather a strange sweetness.

“Your Grace, I’m not hurt.” Xinzhu pulled a box out from her red-stained sleeve—a rouge box, unmistakably.

So it wasn’t blood, but rouge?

Damn, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest! No wonder the ‘blood’ was as thick as toothpaste.

Just to be sure, Ming Tian even tasted it.

Hmm, weird, but sweet. Actually, not bad. Wait, isn’t eating rouge supposed to cause constipation?

“Your... Your Grace...” Xinzhu, still in his arms and clearly unused to this form of embrace, stammered nervously, “Tha... thank you for your... concern, but could you... please let me go... It’s really not appropriate.”

“Ah? Oh, I’m sorry.”

Helping Xinzhu to her feet and confirming that his wife was unhurt, Ming Tian finally breathed a sigh of relief. Then, with a grave expression, he turned toward the man and woman standing at the door.

He saw them stroll into the room, shutting the door behind them in a way that was almost professionally assassin-like.

Hmm, the two of you must have had a good upbringing—always remember to close doors behind you. And judging from your outfits, if I couldn’t tell you were time travelers, I’d truly be an idiot.

Both dressed and looking remarkably alike, they were clearly twins. Apart from the broom-like hair—red for the man and yellow for the woman—their clothes matched perfectly.

Their little jackets were terribly made, with threads coming undone everywhere, but whoever made them had at least managed to polish the leather to a mirror shine.

Both wore lip rings and had blue eyeshadow, clearly applied with rouge.

Brilliant. I’ve really learned something new: time travelers have brought small-town counterculture into ancient times. Why on earth did that damned god let this kind of people cross over? To corrupt Chinese civilization?

“Ming Tian, right?” The man, trying to look cool, leaned against the wall and spun his dagger like a circus act. “You’re pretty lucky, actually dodging my blade.”

Yeah, I guess I am lucky. You two ghosts popped out of nowhere at the door and I didn’t drop dead from fright.

The woman twisted her neck, stuck out her disgusting tongue, and licked her dagger. “But all the luck in the world won’t help you now! The Death Twins of the Chaos Reavers—you’ll die here tonight.”

“D... Death Twins?”

Ming Tian forced himself to speak that cringe-inducing name, which made his stomach churn.

Ugh, I’m going to be sick again…

“Hmph, are you scared?” The man, apparently pleased, stopped spinning his dagger, clearly mistaking Ming Tian’s awkwardness for fear. “It’s only natural. I’ll even let you use that pot over there as a shield.”

The woman laughed loudly. “Brother, you’re too merciful.”

“No, I’m not scared. I just want to laugh.” Ming Tian waved his hand dismissively. “Death Twins? Please, you two are basically the Red Wolf and the Grey Wolf! Do all you Chaos Anal Fissurers come up with names from the Stone Age? Spare me, will you?”

Catching his breath, Ming Tian continued, “If I complete my great work and return to the future, I want to write a memoir. How am I supposed to write about you with such nauseating names? Readers would question my taste and IQ! Please, show a little class, will you? Death Twins? I’ll ‘death’ your damn guts! Let me rename you: the Idiot Twins. Now, isn’t that more tasteful?”

Ming Tian’s verbal barrage was overwhelming—over two hundred words spouted in seconds.

But Ming Tian forgot that Xiao Xinzhu was right beside him. Hearing this, her elegant eyebrows knit together, as if deep in thought.

“You...”

“Bold of you to look down on me and my brother!” the pair shouted, suddenly furious, taking up a fighting stance at the door, eyes blazing with anger.

With a loud crash, the man kicked the table over. “Ming Tian, don’t think you’re something special just because you killed Liu Jian. Today, my sister and I will chop you to bits and feed you to the pigs!”

“Liu Jian?”

Ming Tian paused. If they hadn’t brought it up, he’d have forgotten that guy existed.

“Oh, you mean that idiot I took out in South Lanling County? Did you know I took a dump on his face? Want a fight? I’m game! But don’t say I didn’t warn you—I don’t feel like taking a dump today, so…”

Ming Tian’s combat skills were already above average, and now, with Yin Chan’s new sleeve dart, he had no fear of these small-town wannabes.

Pointing at the standard-issue chamber pot in the inn room, Ming Tian’s voice was full of disdain. “Either get lost, or I’ll pour the entire pot down your throats. If you dare, come at me.”

“Fine, you’ve got guts!”

“Brother, let’s do this!”

Clearly unaccustomed to such insults, the pair exploded with rage, squaring off for battle.

The woman licked her blade, while the man twirled his knife in front of his chest, making a final show of intimidation.

The fight was about to erupt.

But just as Ming Tian took his first step forward, suddenly—

With a violent bang, the door was kicked open!

The force of the kick was so great that the door flew open faster than the hand of a single man who’s been alone for thirty years.

There were two loud thuds as the doors slammed into the hands of the so-called Death Twins, the impact so powerful it shattered a large chunk of each door.

Then came the sickening sound of blades piercing flesh.

The one who burst in was An Luo—only he could kick a door with that much force.

“Ming Tian, what’s going on? I heard something crash—everything alright?!”

An Luo stormed in, knife in hand, clearly ready for battle.

The scene left everyone stunned, even Ming Tian.

Behind him, the splintered door slowly creaked aside from inertia.

The assassins who had been shouting moments before were now corpses.

The woman, who had been licking her dagger, had it knocked into her mouth by the door, the blade bursting out the back of her head. Both eyes, with their cerebellums pierced, lost all coordination—one looking up, one down—her tongue hanging grotesquely long. She was, without question, dead.

The man, luckier, also had his knife knocked by the door, which plunged straight into his heart. He wasn’t quite dead yet.

Wait, why does this feel so familiar?

Watching this, Ming Tian couldn’t help but recall that scene from a Stephen Chow film, with the idiotic teacher ranting about “Green Dragon on the left, White Tiger on the right.”

The manner of death was almost identical.

An Luo turned around, seeing the two corpses, and was momentarily stunned. “Ming Tian? What happened? Are these… your friends? Did I just kill your friends?”

“No, how could I have friends this ugly?” Ming Tian sighed, not bothering to explain. He walked over to the chamber pot, picked it up, and brought it before the still-breathing male assassin.

“They’re assassins.”

The man, not quite dead, looked at Ming Tian approaching with the pot, panic written all over his face. But he was too weak to resist, only whimpering pitifully.

“An Luo, help me pry open his mouth.”

“Uh, sure, Ming Tian. But… why are you holding the chamber pot?”

“Oh, this? Lesson of the day, An Luo—listen closely.”

“What lesson?”

With An Luo’s strength, two fingers were all it took to pry open the assassin’s mouth. The man, utterly helpless, stared up in despair as Ming Tian gave him the purest of smiles.

“When you’re out in the world, you must keep your word. If you say you’ll make someone eat a pot of shit, you make them eat a pot of shit. In a minute, bring me the chamber pot from your room too—she may be dead, but I have to keep my promise.”

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