Holding a Lantern to See Bayonets c.1

 Chapter 1 The King Of Sword

"It's so pitiful. He has late-stage stomach cancer and doesn't even have anyone to take care of him."

"But he's really handsome, even movie stars can't compare..."

"Hehe, little girl, is your hairs all springy?"

"Hahaha……"

The laughter of the nurses during rounds gradually faded away, and the ward fell silent once again.

Chu Ci lay quietly on the bed with his eyes closed, as if he were already dead.

Most of his face was covered by an oxygen mask, his cheeks were sunken from thinning, and his complexion was so pale that it was almost transparent, but his handsome features could still be seen in his eyes and brows.

It's just a matter of time.

The doctor had long predicted he wouldn't live more than three months, and he had already clung to life for half a year, now nearing the end of his life. Perhaps his time would come tonight, or perhaps he would embark on his journey to another world tomorrow night? Death had already raised its scythe against him, its gaze fixed menacingly.

But who is this breath still hanging in the balance, waiting for?

Is there someone in your mind who you didn't have time to say goodbye to?

Chu Ci slightly opened his eyes, his beautiful pupils like a stagnant pool, quietly gazing at the sky outside the window.

The rainy season is approaching, and the sky is filled with thick, dark clouds, making it gloomy and damp.

The nurses were chatting and laughing as they left down the corridor when suddenly a commotion broke out on the stairs. Several fully armed men in camouflage uniforms rushed up the stairs and headed straight for the ward.

The nurses gasped in alarm, and several doctors tried in vain to stop them but failed. The tall, extremely menacing-looking man shoved the vice dean aside and coldly asked, "Where is room 538?"

The vice dean asked nervously, "Which unit are you from?"

The man sneered and didn't answer at all.

The vice dean was in a panic when a doctor rushed over and whispered a few words in his ear. He immediately trembled and his eyes changed instantly when he looked at the man: "Young Master Han? It really is! We didn't receive a call from our superiors either. It's just a short while... Number 538 is right here! Right here! I'll take you there!" As he spoke, he winked at the doctor to quickly take the nurse away.

The unrelated people in the corridor instantly disappeared. Several family members in the wards peeked out after hearing the commotion, but seeing that the newcomers were hostile, they wisely retreated and closed their doors. The vice dean, with a forced smile, led the young master Han to a closed ward door: "Here he is."

The young master Han stared at the door, his expression unreadable. After several seconds, he suddenly kicked it, with a loud crash.

The door hit the wall and bounced back, but the man kicked it away and then casually walked into the ward.

The sound of the door being kicked was loud enough to wake even a dead person. On the hospital bed, Chu Ci slowly turned his head, staring at the man without moving, and after a long while, a faint smile appeared on his face that was hard to decipher: "...Long time no see, Han Yue."

He was so weak, almost emaciated, but his voice was exactly the same as he remembered, unchanged.

Han Yue stood in front of the hospital bed, looking down at him with an extremely piercing gaze, as if he wanted to etch his current disheveled appearance into his mind.

"...Chu Ci, you've finally met your match."

These words were practically forced out by Han Yue through gritted teeth. Only he knew that he had exhausted all his energy and strength to say them.

Chu Ci casually turned his gaze away, "Everyone has to die. I just went a step earlier than you."

"Everyone has to die," Han Yue repeated in a low voice, then sneered, "Yes, that's why I came here to send you on your way. —Where's the knife?"

A subordinate behind him bowed his head and handed him a military knife that was more than 20 centimeters long.

Han Yue took the knife and tossed it in front of Chu Ci: "Look, I even brought your most beloved knife. Aren't I treating you well?"

Chu Ci stared at the knife quietly for a long time, his gaze gentle as if a young girl were looking at her first love. This knife was very different from ordinary bayonets; the handle had no handguard, but was instead covered with extremely rough particles to increase friction; the scabbard also lacked leather buckles and locks, allowing the knife to be drawn instantly with a slight slide.

Chu Ci held the scabbard in one hand and the hilt in the other, using almost all his strength, until his knuckles turned bluish-white. Only when his palm ached from gripping the hilt did he slowly draw the sword from the scabbard, and in an instant, a dazzling white light illuminated the dimly lit ward.

The blade is slightly longer than a dagger, about seventeen or eighteen centimeters long, and the body is also thicker, with the thickest part being more than half a centimeter. The tip of the blade has a very large curve, which is designed to allow for a swift and decisive strike in rapid combat. The curve follows the direction of the arm, thus maximizing the slashing range.

Those in the know will immediately recognize this as a combat knife forged by master swordsmith Paul Chen for the U.S. Navy SEALs, an elite special forces unit. Fewer than two hundred exist worldwide, with only a very small number found in civilian hands. Due to its formidable and exceptional stabbing capabilities, it has even been dubbed a "killer's knife" by the weapons industry.

Because this knife was so utterly murderous, its mold was destroyed immediately after it was forged, and never a new one was ever made again. These few hundred "killing knives" are priceless, unparalleled military blades.

Han Yue had witnessed the sharpness of this knife firsthand. A single, light stab could pierce a half-inch-thick solid wooden board; a flick of the blade across paper could effortlessly slice through dozens of sheets. 

When Chu Ci killed someone, a single, direct strike instantly shattered the cervical vertebrae of an adult man, leaving enough force to pierce another person's chest, severing two ribs before emerging from the spine!

The ruthlessness, the brilliance, and the splendor of that strike left everyone utterly shocked, as if they had seen a ghost in broad daylight.

"Chu Ci, look, a death by firing squad in broad daylight on the execution ground is really not suitable for you. We've been friends for a few years now, and whether it's true or not, we still have some connection. So, how about I give you your own end today?"

Chu Ci smiled slightly, supporting himself on the hospital bed with one hand, and slowly and laboriously sat up. "It's rare for you to want to be a good person, how can I not appreciate your kindness?"

He took a deep breath and leaned against the headboard. He was extremely thin, his face was deathly pale, and even his lips were bloodless. His hair seemed to have grown longer, the ends covering the tips of his ears, and a few strands of bangs brushed against his brow. Only his eyes remained as cold and bright as he remembered.

Han Yue stared coldly at the man. He had thought that all he felt in his heart was hatred, and that he only wanted to tear this man's flesh and bones apart, chew them up, and swallow them. But seeing Chu Ci about to die, he felt a piercing, bone-deep pain, a desire to die with him.

"Han Yue," Chu Ci asked with a smile, "I'm going to die, you should be happy, why do you look like you're about to cry?"

Han Yue closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again with a look of sarcasm: "Many people would be happy if you died, how could anyone shed a single tear for you?"

“…That’s true.” Chu Ci sighed and nodded. “I don’t want you to shed a single tear, lest you dirty my path of reincarnation.”

Han Yue clenched his fist in an instant, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, looking extremely frightening.

Chu Ci gently stroked the blade, his movements incredibly tender, as if bidding farewell to an old friend. A slight warmth emanated from his hands, causing a thin wisp of white mist to rise from the blade before dissipating in an instant.

"Han Yue, do you still remember the question you asked me when I left?"

Han Yue stood there silently for a long time before nodding and saying, "Yes, I'm asking you, having committed so many murders in your life, have you ever loved anyone?"

Chu Ci slowly raised his hand, pointing the knife tip at his heart, and looked up at Han Yue with a smile: "Now I can tell you the answer. My answer is—no. I, Chu Ci, have lived for more than twenty years and have never fallen in love with anyone."

Han Yue seemed to freeze in place for a moment, staring intently at Chu Ci, neither speaking nor moving, showing absolutely no reaction.

Chu Ci's smile seemed to deepen, as if carrying a hint of inexplicable apology. Just then, he took a slight breath and suddenly plunged the knife into his heart—

With a hissing sound. Blood splattered in mid-air, that moment seemingly stretched out indefinitely. The crimson hue was so intense, as if it carried a piercing heat that could burn one's eyes.

The pain was so intense that it made one want to cry.

...yet not a single tear could be shed.

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TN. I will update once a week, if you want to read in advance please join my ko-fi ! Thank you..