The carriage South Fusheng was in was a scene of devastation—almost everyone was injured. A man wept over his girlfriend's body, even though he was covered in wounds.
A child cried out for his father again and again. When the Soul Guidance Train had overturned, the father had thrown himself over the boy to shield him, but had been crushed to death under the train.
An elderly man was calling out his child's name. A woman clutched her child tightly, murmuring words of comfort even as glass shards had slashed her legs until they bled profusely.
For a moment, all the tragedies of the human world played out before South Fusheng's eyes. But he knew full well—he couldn't save them. The train was still a long distance from Sun Moon City; there was no time for rescue or reinforcements to arrive.
And besides… he sensed something approaching—a presence reeking of blood and malice. The sensation was crystal clear in his perception.
"An Evil Soul Master."
South Fusheng murmured the words. Even though he had never seen one before, the aura alone was enough to make him certain.
He could also sense, farther away, several other presences locked in battle—two on par with Wu Zhangkong, and another two even stronger than him.
Two Soul Sages, two Soul Emperors, likely all Battle Armor Masters. Three Soul Kings—their soul fluctuations don't change much, so I can't tell if they have armor, and a few Soul Ancestors.
South Fusheng calculated their numbers and strength. The closest presence was already walking toward him. The man's face was serpentine—twisted, sly, and hiding a bottomless malice.
"Yellow, yellow, purple, purple."
Four soul rings rose around him—he was a four-ring Soul Ancestor. As his martial soul was unleashed, coarse fur sprouted across his body, four sharp fangs jutted from his mouth, and his hands grew razor claws.
The man looked at the groaning passengers with a warped smile. He stepped up to a man pinned under wreckage, drove his claws into the man's chest, and wrenched out his heart—then bit into it and chewed.
Screams rang out from the passengers nearest him. No matter the era, seeing one's kind slaughtered and devoured like that stirs a primal terror. The man seemed to savor their fear, letting out a chilling, twisted laugh.
The killing began in earnest. Passengers who could still move tried to run, but they were only ordinary folk, grievously wounded—how could they possibly outrun a Soul Ancestor?
"Heart-Eating Fox."
South Fusheng observed calmly. The man's martial soul seemed to be a rare, vicious variant of the fox-type soul beasts. Most foxes excelled in spirit and charm abilities, but this Heart-Eating Fox was different—physically powerful, with exceptionally sharp claws.
This type of beast preferred to kill prey and devour only the heart, ignoring the rest of the body. Each time the man ate a heart, his aura of blood and life force visibly grew stronger.
An evil martial soul was one thing. But to cultivate with such a vile method—that made him an Evil Soul Master, without question.
South Fusheng slipped a hand into his pocket and began to slowly approach the man.
"Oh? Didn't expect to hook a soul master here. My luck's good today."
The man stopped eating, turned, and looked toward South Fusheng. The other passengers who could run were already dead—only those too injured to move remained, staring in despair.
The man didn't mind toying with this newcomer. He could feel that South Fusheng's soul power wasn't strong.
"Looks like I can't dodge this one," South Fusheng sighed, stepping out into the open. Seeing the boy's youthful face, the man relaxed even more. A little brat like this wouldn't have much soul power.
"Heh, kid, you were trying to hide and sneak up on me, weren't you? Too naive. Thanks to my martial soul, I can sense the heartbeat of anyone within a certain range."
The man sneered, eager to see fear on the boy's face. His favorite pastime was killing talented young soul masters and savoring their expressions before death.
But South Fusheng's expression remained calm.
"What's your goal? Just random terror, or is there another purpose?"
The man snorted, disappointed at the lack of fear. He had no intention of answering.
With a push of his legs, he lunged at South Fusheng, claws aimed straight for the boy's chest, clearly intending to disembowel him on the spot.
"Tch," South Fusheng clicked his tongue. What kind of villain just attacks without a monologue? Aren't you supposed to reveal your evil plan so I can be shocked?
As the Evil Soul Master closed in, South Fusheng put on a show of panic, like a rookie barely accustomed to fighting. Two hundred-year soul rings rose under his feet.
Seeing the immature movements and low rings, the man's twisted grin widened. A twelve-year-old at most, a mere two-ring Great Soul Master—he could almost taste the boy's screams already.
"Steal."
When the man was within ten meters, South Fusheng still wore the mask of fear, but secretly unleashed his Steal ability, targeting the man's consciousness.
The man's mind went blank. Even Soul Emperors like Wu Zhangkong had been affected—how could a mere four-ring Soul Ancestor resist?
"Sir, times have changed."
That was the last thing the man heard before his awareness was swallowed by darkness.
In the real world, South Fusheng blew across the barrel of his soul-guided gun. Now this—that's effective. Who in this day and age still fights like traditional soul masters, relying on close combat?
No trigger-activated soul barrier? Then, of course, you're the one who's going to die.
As for leaving him alive? Not worth it. A grunt like this wouldn't know the full scope of their plans anyway.