Die, Replay, Repeat

Fang Xiu’s warning hit home quick.

The group started watching their shadows, dodging as the Shadow Killer staggered closer.

Sure enough, staying clear worked—no one ended up with their throat torn out like that poor sap.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Knowing the kill rule didn’t mean they were safe. 

Those Specters could blink around, their slow shuffle just a trick before they popped up somewhere new.

If one landed right on your shadow? Done—no way to dodge that.

With their powers, they might’ve had a shot. But now, as regular people? Not a chance.

“Move,” Fang Xiu said, his voice solid as iron. He turned and led Yang Ming and the others off without looking back.

Lu Ziming watched them head out, his eyes glinting with a plan. “Stick with Fang Xiu!” he yelled to his people. “He’s been dropping cash at the pawnshop for info—he’s gotta know the exit!”

So they bolted, racing to keep ahead of the Shadow Killer.

That thing wasn’t a one-time threat—if it stepped on your shadow, you died, and then it spawned a new copy straight out of your body.

Let too many go down, and the place would be swarming with those creeps. No one’d walk out—not even Fang Xiu.

Inside the Zhou's Mansion, he was as helpless as the rest. No tricks, no “wife”, no Fade.

It wasn’t that the mansion’s Forbidden vibe outdid her—it was simpler. She needed Spiritual Energy to work, and right now, Fang Xiu’s tank was bone dry.

He could’ve rolled in with Fade already on, sure, but that was a bust.

Fade made him untouchable, but he couldn’t do anything back—no contact, no action.

They finally lost the Shadow Killer, stumbling into a big courtyard.

A single path stretched out ahead, narrow and winding into total darkness. It looked like the kind of spot that’d eat you alive, and no one was eager to jump in.

They all knew Shadow Killer wouldn't be the only bad news here.

“Fang Xiu,” Lu Ziming called out, breaking the tense quiet. “You’ve been sniffing around the pawnshop, right? Come on—where’s the way out?”

Fang Xiu turned slow, locking eyes with him. His stare was calm, like a still pond, but it soaked up the shadows around, getting unsettlingly deep.

Before he could say anything, Yang Ming cut in, fired up.

“Who do you think you’re mouthing off to, huh?” he snapped. “We haven’t even squared up for that key crap, and now you’ve got the nerve to demand answers?”

Lu Ziming grinned, his smirk oozing with attitude as he sized up Yang Ming’s group. “What, you think this is still outside? No Taotie army to save your ass here, big shot. 

"We’re all regular joes now—you think I’m scared of you? Tables have flipped, and you’re the ones who should be worried. We’ve got eight people; you’ve got six—two of them girls. You really want to go?”

Yang Ming lost it. He rolled up his sleeves, ready to throw down. “Screw you! When it’s time to fight, I don’t back off for anybody. They called me the King of Street Fights back in Greenvine—ask around my street who runs the show!”

Lu Ziming didn’t even blink, brushing Yang Ming off. His eyes stayed fixed on Fang Xiu. “You’re a smart guy, Fang Xiu. You can see the numbers—we’ve got the edge. But chill, play along, and I won’t mess with you. There are Specters here—we can’t waste time scrapping yet.”

Fang Xiu just shook his head, his voice icy and even. “Too bad you’re not as clever as you think. If you were, you’d know threatening me is the stupidest call you’ll ever make.”

Lu Ziming’s face darkened, his cool breaking. “Fang Xiu, don’t test me. You want to play tough? Alright—guess you need a lesson…”

Lu Ziming didn’t even get his threat out before his face went pale as a ghost.

Everyone else—except Fang Xiu—did the same, color draining fast.

That awful tap-tap-tap of leather shoes rang out from not too far away.

“Crap!” someone shouted. “That freaking Specter’s already here!”

“We’ve got to move!”

“Run!” Lu Ziming didn’t waste a second, spinning to take off. Facing a Specter with no Spiritual Energy? That was a one-way ticket to dead.

But right as he turned, a sharp whoosh sliced through the air.

A glint of silver cut the darkness—Fang Xiu’s Scalpel, flying straight at him.

Lu Ziming’s eyes popped wide, anger and shock flashing across his face. He couldn’t believe Fang Xiu was doing this now.

With a wild burst, he threw himself back, dodging as fast as he could.

Too late. Blood splashed across his cheek.

“You maniac!” he yelled, grabbing his face. “The Specter’s practically on top of us, and you’re picking a fight? What, you trying to get us all killed?”

Fang Xiu didn’t blink, steady as a rock even as the tap-tap of those oversized shoes got louder. “I warned you—threatening me was the dumbest move you’d ever make.”

He dropped low, then shot forward like a shadow, the Scalpel carving a smooth line through the dark.

“Crazy jerk!” Lu Ziming’s heart jumped to his throat.

That tap-tap-tap was a death bell from hell, and the last thing he wanted was to mess with Fang Xiu. He just needed to get out.

Pulling on every bit of his jacked-up fifth-tier strength, he ran—only to stop cold, stunned.

Fang Xiu kept up, no, passed him, cutting off his escape like it was easy.

Then the real shock hit.

Two shadowy figures flickered into view mid-courtyard—the Shadow Killers.

Their pitch-black shapes, sporting those worn-out clown shoes, shuffled slow across the stone.

A wave of pure fear rolled off them, thick and heavy.

Everyone felt it, a chill crawling up their backs. No powers, no way to fight—just regular folks against a shadow-jumping death trap.

Running was all they had.

“Get out of my way!” Lu Ziming growled, panic and fury taking over. He ripped the sword from his waist and swung it at Fang Xiu with all he had.

Fang Xiu didn’t sidestep. He met it straight on, flicking the Scalpel up in an easy block. 

CLANG! Metal screeched against metal, a spark popping where they hit.

In the next second, Lu Ziming felt like a truck plowed through his sword arm.

He yelled, the force tossing him back like a toy. He slammed into his crew, knocking them down in a mess of arms and legs as they tried to run.

Flat on the ground, he scrambled up, staring at his cut, bloody hand in disbelief.

How? Fang Xiu was just a third-tier—how’d he overpower a fifth-tier like him? ESPECIALLY him, with sword skills that pumped his body past normal limits.

Even without Spiritual Energy, he’d thought he could take most fifth-tiers in a fistfight. 

Yet here he was, face in the dirt after one swing from a third-tier nobody.

What he didn’t get—what he couldn’t get—was that Fang Xiu’s body wasn’t human anymore.

Mixed with multiple Specters, beefed up by devouring tons more, his raw strength had shot past human caps, creeping into freak territory.

No Spiritual Energy, no fancy powers, sure—but the physical boosts? Those didn’t go away.

Lu Ziming thought the Zhou's Mansion was his turf. Too bad he forgot the main rule: the top dog’s always the top dog, no matter where you are.

“This can’t be happening!” Lu Ziming stammered, staring at Fang Xiu. “How’s your body this tough?!”

Translator's note: The author called it Shadow Stomping Specter all the time. The name's a bit long, so I created a shorter term for it.