Another Way

Lin Shu sat in silence, eyes lowered.

Wealth required strength — strength he didn't have. The world followed that simple rule. Without power, there was nothing to take, nothing to protect.

He needed strength. But needing something never meant having it.

Lin Shu's fingers trembled slightly. The thoughts circling in his mind were sinister — far darker than anything he'd ever considered before.

Stealing was one thing. He'd done that. Fighting too, when he had to — beating those who tried to take from him, boys his own age, street rats like him. But killing — that was different.

Yet... it was easier. No work, no waiting, no gambling on scraps. The slums were full of those no one would miss — drunkards, beggars, nameless shadows sinking into the mud. One knife, one life, and he'd have what he needed.

His breath quickened. His hand wouldn't stop shaking.

Cowardly rat.

The words stabbed into his mind, sharper than any blade. That's what he was — living day by day, clinging to the present out of fear for the future.

If he kept thinking like this — he'd always be like this.

Lin Shu's gaze sharpened, cold light flickering in the depths of his eyes.

"If I fear the future... I'll never reach it."

He clenched his shaking hand into a fist.

To get what I want... the means do not matter.

He could accumulate money — slowly, piece by piece. Copper coins, maybe silver... gold, if fortune favored him.

A silver coin had never passed through his fingers before. Gold was something he'd only seen from afar, glinting in the hands of others — a distant dream that didn't belong to those like him.

A drunkard carrying silver was nearly impossible. He knew that. But nearly wasn't the same as never.

It didn't matter how little he got or how long it took.

He had no choice.

If he wanted to rise, he had to step into the filth — to crawl before he could walk.

If blood was the price, he'd pay it.

Lin Shu had never killed — but he'd seen others do it.

In the slums, death was as common as hunger. He'd watched starving children stab grown men for a loaf of bread, seen beggars slit throats in the dead of night for a few copper coins.

That was why he stayed on the outskirts of town — far from the slums, where desperation turned even the weakest into predators. Sleeping too close to others was just asking to be killed in his sleep.

Now, with those memories carved deep into his mind, he began planning.

The first thing he needed was a weapon. A knife would be best, but knives were worth money — hard to steal, harder to find. A shard of glass would have to do for now. He'd hide it in his sleeve, strike when they least expected.

He would only kill at night — only those like him. No one would look for a missing beggar or a drunk who froze to death on the roadside.

Copper by copper, he'd accumulate wealth. Enough to buy a bow and arrows — a weapon that would let him kill from a distance. He'd heard blood beasts weren't as dangerous if you kept your distance. Their flesh was worth far more than normal animals, even the weakest ones.

If that didn't work... there was always another way.

Bandits lived off the work of others. Hunters carried weapons, furs, and coin. All Lin Shu had to do was take what they had.

He could start small — one man, alone in the woods.

One life, one step closer.

If he followed this path...

It wouldn't be long before bloodshed became a habit.

Lin Shu scoured the outskirts, turning rubble and debris with patient hands. He found a jagged shard of glass — its edge sharp enough to draw blood from his fingertip. A thin wire followed, buried beneath broken tiles, and finally, a splintered piece of wood.

He bound them together, wrapping the wire tightly until the glass no longer wobbled. A crude weapon — fragile, unreliable — but enough to slit a throat.

To be sure, he tested it.

A torn rag was sliced clean. A rat he caught that morning had its throat opened with a single motion — the warm blood soaking into the dirt.

It was sharp enough.

Now... he just had to wait.

When night fell, so did hunger — not just for food, but for wealth... and most of all, power.

Lin Shu slipped through the shadows, feet brushing lightly against the cold earth. Every step measured, every movement calculated. He avoided the main paths — not out of mercy, but because he knew the night belonged to those like him. A careless step could make him prey before he became a predator.

He reached the slums and crouched in a narrow alley, half-hidden behind broken crates. The knife rested cold in his palm, wrapped in a strip of cloth to muffle its sound.

All he needed was one man — stumbling, drunk, alone.

If none passed by... he'd follow one instead. Find someone too wasted to notice the shadow behind him.

But there was a problem — one he'd realized from the start but tried to ignore.

He was small. Weak. His arms lacked strength, his reach barely reaching an adult's chest. A knife to the stomach might kill, but not quickly — not cleanly.

He needed the neck.

That's why he chose this spot — where the broken crates stood piled against the wall. If someone passed through the alley... he'd climb up silently and strike from above.

Lin Shu's breath slowed. His heartbeat settled.

He could still turn back.

No one would know.

But he would.

He would know that he was a coward — a rat that refused to take the first step toward his dream.

The hunger inside him gnawed deeper than ever — not just for food, not just for wealth, but for something far greater.

Power.

If he couldn't kill one man tonight... he'd never climb out of the filth.

Lin Shu gripped the knife tighter, his cold gaze fixed on the mouth of the alley.

He would wait.

However long it took.

After half an hour of freezing in the cold, Lin Shu's patience was rewarded.

A man stumbled into view — too drunk to walk straight, let alone defend himself. He grumbled to himself, cursing between slurred breaths.

"Damn it... lost again... can't ever win against those b*stards..."

A gambler.

Lin Shu's heart pounded, but his grip on the knife stayed firm.

It was now or never.

He climbed the crates slowly, movements silent. The glass knife trembled slightly in his hand, but his gaze remained sharp — locked on the man's swaying figure.

The moment the drunkard stepped into the alley, Lin Shu leapt.

His small body clung to the man's back like a starving beast — one hand clamped tight over the man's mouth, the other pressing the glass shard against his neck.

The man staggered, more from alcohol than fear. His muffled protests were drowned in the night air. Lin Shu gritted his teeth, pushing down with all his strength. The glass bit into flesh, tearing skin and muscle.

The pain jolted the man awake — but it was too late.

His voice caught in his throat, cut off before it could even cry out. The only sound that escaped was a wet, choking gurgle.

Still... it wasn't enough.

Lin Shu's body moved on instinct — stabbing again and again. The glass cracked with each thrust, slicing into the man's neck, chest, stomach — anywhere he could reach.

Blood splattered onto his face, warm against the cold night air.

The struggle felt endless. The man writhed, weaker with every second — until finally, he stopped.

Lin Shu knelt over the corpse, panting. His small chest rose and fell rapidly, fingers still clenched around the blood-soaked knife.

He had killed.

For the first time in his life... he stood above someone.

Not a breathing man.

A corpse.

And he would never go back.

Lin Shu's hands trembled — caught between fear and excitement.

He had done it.

He had killed a man.

His breath came in short, shallow gasps, heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. Yet... there was no regret. If he had to, he would do it again.

And he would do it again.

A scurrying mouse broke the silence, jolting him back to reality. He couldn't afford to lose himself now — not when the night still belonged to him.

He moved quickly, fingers searching through the dead man's filthy clothes. The stench of sweat and alcohol clung to the fabric, but Lin Shu's mind blocked it out.

Copper coins clinked faintly in his palm — more money than he'd held in days. He stuffed them into his pocket without hesitation.

Greed flickered in his dark eyes.

Not enough.

It would never be enough.

He stripped the man of anything that could be sold — a belt, half-torn shoes, even a rusted pendant hanging from his neck. Then, without wasting another second, he grabbed the corpse by the arms and dragged it deeper into the alley.

The body scraped against the dirt, leaving behind a faint trail of blood. Lin Shu's small frame strained under the weight, but he gritted his teeth and pulled with everything he had.

Out of sight — that was all he needed.

By the time he finished, his arms ached and his breath was ragged.

But he'd bought himself time — time to disappear before anyone stumbled upon the scene.

Lin Shu wiped the blood from his knife onto his ragged clothes, tucked the weapon into his sleeve, and slipped back into the shadows.

The first step had been taken.

There was no turning back now.