Immortality by Merit and Sin Coins

Black Water City, a dilapidated courtyard in the South Suburbs.

Lin Shu’s consciousness was fading. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as if they were glued shut.

"Keep hitting him."

A gruff voice suddenly rang in his ears, jarring him into a state of partial wakefulness.

’Another fight? Who’s getting beaten up?’

Lin Shu instinctively reached out to grab something.

’When it comes to a fight, you need a weapon you can count on. Otherwise, you’re bound to get screwed over.’

He had more than enough experience dealing with situations like this; otherwise, he never would have survived this long, fighting and scraping his way through those filthy alleys.

CRACK! CRACK!

However, before Lin Shu could even extend his hand, two vicious lashes struck his shoulders and back, tearing his flesh open.

"Hiss!"

The hangover’s haze vanished in an instant. Spurred by the intense pain, Lin Shu finally opened his eyes. The ’paste’ that had glued them shut was blood, tinting his entire vision a blurry, dark red.

’So... it’s me they’re fucking hitting.’

As his consciousness took control of the body, the pain from his countless wounds flooded his brain.

Lin Shu’s breathing became ragged and shallow, and his arms tensed with a surge of adrenaline and fear.

He licked his split lip, drawing the taste of blood into his mouth as he slowly raised his head to look around.

His surroundings were utterly alien—a humble courtyard enclosed by earthen walls, a stark contrast to the filthy alleys and towering skyscrapers he knew.

At least a dozen people came into view, a mix of men and women, young and old.

The most conspicuous, however, were the three burly men standing before him.

All three were shirtless, their faces smeared with bizarre, exaggerated paint.

The leader sported a short beard, while the other two clutched leather whips, looking down at him with cold, menacing eyes.

’Whips?’

Lin Shu fought through the searing pain, calmly observing everything.

’Who the hell uses these in a fight?’

’Things like this are either for punishment or for foreplay.’

Glancing at the three hulking men, Lin Shu really hoped it was the former.

His gaze dropped to the ground beside him, where a blood-soaked burlap sack lay. From its silhouette, it seemed to contain a live, monkey-like creature that was still squirming faintly.

The sack served as an anchor, and fragmented memories instantly coalesced.

This place was the base for a theatrical troupe, a group of people who made their living through scams and trickery.

His predecessor had been found by them in the outskirts.

With his slender build and fair skin, his specific role was to portray Immortal Gods and trick people into giving donations.

Not long ago, the troupe had targeted an old woman. After learning that she had a sick grandson whose life depended entirely on medicinal decoctions, they hatched a malicious scheme.

First, they convinced her to stop the medicinal decoctions. Then, they faked a few "miracles" and finally brought the old woman before his predecessor, who was dressed as one of the Immortal Gods.

And just like that, they swindled the old woman out of her entire life’s savings.

That should have been the end of it.

But who would have thought his predecessor couldn’t bear to see the child die.

He had actually snuck out to convince the old woman not to stop the child’s medicine. As for the silver, he was willing to accompany her to report them to the authorities.

"Seriously."

The corner of Lin Shu’s mouth twitched.

’To be saddled with such an idiot... what a hopeless situation.’

He stared at the sack.

Through the half-open mouth of the sack, he could vaguely make out a bloody, mangled, elderly face.

She looked like an emaciated monkey, her eyes bulging in a wide stare, her torn lips trembling uncontrollably.

The old woman stared blankly at the young man who had swindled her money, yet also tried to help her get it back.

She let out a gurgling whimper, and it was impossible to tell if she was pleading for help or cursing him in rage.

A withered hand emerged shakily from the mouth of the sack. Three of its five fingers were broken, dangling limply.

Lin Shu watched the hand creep closer, feeling a hint of revulsion and the urge to pull away.

He knew he wasn’t a good man, that he would one day die a violent death in the streets. He’d even imagined a dramatic scene like this before.

But in his fantasy, the one reaching for him was a punk girl in a leather jacket and a dragon tattoo, or a sophisticated beauty in an evening gown and high heels.

"She’s still not fucking dead!"

A man from the crowd named Wang Xu suddenly lunged forward and began kicking the sack viciously.

"CRUNCH... AARGH!!"

The last of the old woman’s breath was kicked out of her, erupting in a beast-like howl.

After that, the grating whimpers in the courtyard fell silent.

The withered hand lost its strength, stopping just before Lin Shu’s cheek.

’What in the world... It seemed she wasn’t pleading for help or cursing in rage, but pitying this young man who was also about to be beaten to death.’

Unfortunately, the old woman couldn’t quite reach his face.

Her remaining fingers slid down, managing only to leave two warm, foul-smelling streaks of blood across the tip of his nose.

"..."

Lin Shu felt the wetness on the tip of his nose and fell silent for a moment.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he looked at Wang Xu.

No one noticed that in the instant the old woman took her last breath, a fleeting streak of black light shot into Lin Shu’s palm.

"Third Master, I’ll take care of him."

Wang Xu said, looking fawningly at the short-bearded leader.

The troupe leader, Master Liu San, pushed him aside and ambled over to crouch in front of Lin Shu.

He then grabbed the boy’s jaw, forcing his head up.

"Tch. To think he actually survived the house punishment."

Third Master was not pleased with this outcome.

A full hundred lashes, and it still hadn’t been enough to kill this worthless bastard who dared to betray them.

Too bad. The house had its rules, and the sentence had already been declared.

"He’s a tough one, isn’t he."

Master Liu San sighed, then spat right on Lin Shu’s forehead. "Ptui."

’No matter how tough he is, it’s nothing a few more lashes can’t solve.’

"Drag him inside. We have another show tomorrow."

Master Liu San wasn’t in the habit of talking to dead men. He let go of Lin Shu’s head and stood back up.