Chapter Four: The Decaying Hand

The stench of decay in the air grew heavier and heavier.

At first, it was merely reminiscent of spoiled, rotting food dumped haphazardly on the ground, reeking with a nauseating odor. But as the bandages were unwound, layer by layer, that scent transformed, becoming the unmistakable foulness of a decomposing corpse.

The stench was not only putrid but also sour, so much so that it churned the stomach. Even the little rat nearby pinched its nose and scurried far away.

The bandages trailing on the ground started out white, but the further along they went, the darker and damper they became.

With a wet smack, the final length of bandage landed on the floor, and Scar’s right hand was fully revealed before Ye Chen’s eyes.

His right hand was covered in oozing sores, black fluid occasionally seeping from the wounds. The sight alone made Ye Chen frown in disgust; never in his life had he encountered a stench so vile.

He only knew Scar was an Awakened, but had never witnessed him in action—most of what he’d heard were just rumors. They said that anything Scar touched would rot away. Ye Chen had only half-believed it before, but now, his skepticism was quickly vanishing.

He couldn’t help but wonder—what had Scar gone through that made his awakened ability so revolting, so abhorred?

Scar stepped over the pile of bandages, flexing his right hand as he slowly approached, leaving droplets of liquid splattering on the ground. Yet, the floor was untouched by corrosion; it seemed his power affected only living things.

Scar’s voice rumbled low and deep, “Did you know, my right hand used to be just like yours? I could touch anything I wanted. Until one day, it became like this.”

He lifted his hand before his eyes, as if admiring it, or perhaps remembering something. Then his expression twisted, and he snarled, “But I love the power it’s given me. Anyone I dislike, I can destroy any part of them I choose. As for you, I’ll turn your whole body into this.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Scar lunged for Ye Chen, his speed no less than Ye Chen’s earlier. His right hand shot out, five fingers splayed wide as he aimed for Ye Chen’s face.

He hated the look Ye Chen had just given him.

Ye Chen’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, every muscle tensing. He felt as though a wild beast were lunging for him, jaws agape and reeking. But he’d survived countless such attacks before; his mind was calm in the face of danger, and he saw Scar’s outstretched hand as a predator’s fangs—untouchable.

So what if you have fangs? Aside from that hand, the rest of your body is still just flesh and blood!

At the last instant, Ye Chen ducked and darted to the side, dodging Scar’s rotten grasp. His fist swung up in a vicious hook, slamming into Scar’s ribcage with a thud.

The ribs are a weak spot—the cartilage easily broken, the pain immense. Ye Chen knew to avoid a beast’s bite and strike where it hurt most.

But Scar was tougher than his lackeys; though his face twisted in pain, he only staggered back a step. He gritted his teeth and steadied himself, lunging again, single-minded in his attack.

With his rotting hand, Scar had abandoned all other methods of fighting. What was his greatest strength was, in Ye Chen’s eyes, his greatest weakness—his attacks were far too predictable.

Yet when Ye Chen saw how little damage his punch had done, his expression grew grave. Suddenly, another thought flashed through his mind.

In this world, Awakened were divided into types: Body, Weapon, and Elemental. Of these, the Body type was the strongest physically. Scar, with his mutated right hand, clearly belonged to this category.

Without hesitation, Ye Chen rolled on the ground, narrowly avoiding another swipe and pulling away to a safe distance. He drew his broken blade, gripping it tightly. Now, facing Scar’s renewed onslaught, he grew calm.

In that moment, Scar was no longer a man, but a beast fighting for his right to survive. The giant sand lizard behind him, so recently slain, had cost him dearly—why should Scar think to take it without effort, just because he was Awakened? If that was all he relied on, he wasn’t worthy—Ye Chen was Awakened too!

And from their exchange, it was clear Scar was not his equal.

“Scar, if you think you can snatch food from my mouth, you’re not even close!” Ye Chen growled, his eyes glinting with ferocity. He crouched low, blade extended, and charged Scar head-on.

His inner power dropped from ten to eight—each time he condensed an invisible edge, it cost him two points. When his inner power hit zero, he’d be exhausted, as he’d discovered in secret the night before.

The distance between them shrank rapidly.

Scar’s hand lashed out, a cruel grin twisting his lips—he saw Ye Chen swing the blade. At this range, Scar was sure: Ye Chen had swung too early, the blade wouldn’t reach him.

He sneered—victory was his. Die!

But the next instant, Scar’s eyes flew wide with shock. As they brushed past one another, he felt his hand go numb, his fingers no longer obeyed his will.

Another sign: his inner power had stopped draining. Normally, using his rotting hand, his power would be constantly consumed. But just now—it had gone utterly still.

With a sickening splat, his right hand dropped from the wrist, landing like a lump of rotten meat at his feet.

A scream tore from his throat as blood spurted from the severed wrist, splattering across the street. He couldn’t understand it—Ye Chen’s battered blade hadn’t even touched him. How had his hand been severed out of thin air?

He was at a loss, mind blank from the agony.

His lackeys rushed to his side; the quick-witted Rat Boy snatched up the discarded bandages, tearing off the sections soaked in corrosive fluid to wrap Scar’s wound.

Not far away, Ye Chen slid the broken blade back into his belt and said coldly, “With strength like that, you’re not even as good as a sand rat.”

That remark was a fuse, igniting the fury in Scar’s heart. He sank to his knees, clutching his stump as Rat Boy hurriedly bandaged him, roaring, “Kill him! I want him dead!”

He no longer cared if it ended in death—anyone who cost him his right hand would pay with their life.

Just then, the rumble of engines drifted from not far off. It wasn’t the sound of a single vehicle, but an entire convoy, approaching from the city gates.

A major caravan was entering the city.

The spot where they’d fought was directly in the convoy’s path.

Soon, the speeding vehicles appeared in view. Scar’s lackeys shrank back, none daring to move.

This was no ordinary merchant convoy. Leading the way was a vehicle from the Outer City Patrol Authority—its purpose, to clear the road for those behind.

Someone important was crossing the wastes to the City of Energy.