Chapter 1034: The Sinner’s Body

But Zhang Shan never gave up. His legs gradually shifted from kneeling to squatting, roaring as he mustered strength to rise.

Qiao Jiajin sensed the danger and immediately tightened his grip around Zhang Shan’s neck, pulling with all his might on his arm. He was certain Zhang Shan couldn’t breathe, yet the man still possessed monstrous strength.

Despite his agonized screams, Zhang Shan slowly lifted Qiao Jiajin’s entire body off the ground.

Qiao Jiajin braced himself—Zhang Shan might slam him down at any moment. Against anyone else, the impact would leave them dazed for half a second, forcing them to loosen their grip.

Once that happened, the fight would be decided by a swift counter from the ground.

But Qiao Jiajin was no ordinary man. After locking his legs around Zhang Shan’s neck, he crossed his ankles and intertwined his fingers, locking his arms around Zhang Shan’s limb.

Even if he was hurled to the ground, he wouldn’t let go. Instead, he’d use the momentum of the fall to dislocate Zhang Shan’s arm.

*Come on, Zhang Shan,* Qiao Jiajin thought. *If my strength isn’t enough, I’ll borrow yours one more time.*

But Zhang Shan was no fool. Once he stood, he didn’t immediately slam Qiao Jiajin down. Instead, he staggered forward, turning his body in slow, deliberate circles.

Hanging in midair with his legs wrapped around Zhang Shan’s neck, Qiao Jiajin lost all sense of direction.

Before he could figure out Zhang Shan’s plan, the man suddenly twisted his core, spinning rapidly with Qiao Jiajin still in his grip.

The wind howled in Qiao Jiajin’s ears—and then he understood.

But realization came too late. A white wall rushed toward his skull.

*So this was Zhang Shan’s plan—he wasn’t going to slam me down. He was going to smash my head into the wall. That way, he could save his arm and crush me in one move.*

Instinct took over. At the last possible second, Qiao Jiajin tucked his chin, ducking his head.

Zhang Shan had only just adjusted his stance, so the wall wasn’t as close as it could’ve been. Qiao Jiajin’s reflexes saved him—something hard grazed the back of his scalp, tearing out a few strands of hair.

If he hadn’t dodged, his brains would’ve spilled from every orifice in his face.

Before he could even catch his breath, the wind roared in his ears again—Zhang Shan was spinning once more. This time, he was closer to the wall, clearly intent on smashing Qiao Jiajin to death against it.

The distance was too short. Qiao Jiajin knew ducking wouldn’t save him this time.

So, as the wall rushed toward his face, instinct made him release Zhang Shan’s arm and raise his own to shield himself.

**THUD!**

The sound of flesh colliding with stone echoed as Qiao Jiajin was hurled into the wall with brutal force.

Before he could even cry out, his back hit the ground, his skull bouncing off the hard surface. Pain exploded through his body.

Though his arms had absorbed the impact, the sheer force of the collision left his mind blank for a full second.

Gritting his teeth, Qiao Jiajin rolled onto his side, curling into a protective ball as he forced his eyes open to glare at Zhang Shan.

Zhang Shan wasn’t faring much better. His face was flushed red, and he clutched his newly freed arm, coughing violently as he staggered back.

Both men knew this was the moment to strike—neither could move, but victory was within reach for whoever recovered first.

The collision had left Qiao Jiajin dizzy, his arms numb. The intense struggle had drained both fighters, making another decisive attack nearly impossible.

“Dang it… you little bastard…” Zhang Shan rasped, rubbing his throat. “Almost had me…”

Qiao Jiajin let out a bitter laugh, pushing himself up with trembling arms before slumping against the wall.

“You’re one tough bastard,” he wheezed. “Glad I never ran into someone like you on the streets. Otherwise, I’d never have been able to protect anyone.”

“And lucky for the world you’re not some common thug,” Zhang Shan shot back, sitting down cross-legged. “Otherwise, decent folk wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Hah…”

The two sat just meters apart, catching their breath like old friends sharing a drink.

After a pause, Qiao Jiajin tilted his head back, staring at the dark sky. “Sounds like you’ve met some bad people, big guy.”

“Hell, *I’m* the bad guy,” Zhang Shan muttered. “Hey, punk… ever killed anyone?”

Qiao Jiajin frowned, genuinely considering the question. “I don’t know. I always hold back in fights—aim to knock ‘em out fast, avoid vital spots. But when blades come out in a brawl… even if I didn’t kill anyone, someone could’ve died because I put them down.”

“Damn. That’s one hell of a life,” Zhang Shan chuckled. “Sounds like you grew up in a warzone.”

“Pretty much.”

“I *have* killed someone.” Zhang Shan’s voice darkened. “Dunno what era you’re from, but in my time, that was serious business.”

“It’s serious in any era,” Qiao Jiajin replied. “Has nothing to do with the law… They were a person. Flesh and blood, with thoughts, people they cared about, things they believed in. I’ve got no mortal enemies—who am I to decide if someone lives or dies?”

Zhang Shan fell silent, as if struck by the words. After a long pause, he asked quietly, “Punk… you ever hate your own body?”

“Huh?”

“Even for a second… ever despised this weapon you’re born with?” Zhang Shan pressed. “Or wished, just once, that you were just… normal?”

Qiao Jiajin laughed. “If anything, I hate that I’m not *stronger*. I hate that I can’t be the damn *Terminator*.”

“Dang it.” Zhang Shan cracked a grin. “Weird way to think. You don’t wanna kill, but you wanna be stronger? What’s the point?”

“Protection.”

“Protection…?”

“The world’s full of cracks, but there’s still so much worth seeing.” Qiao Jiajin’s voice was firm. “I’ll stand in front of every damn fissure and make sure the people I care about don’t fall through.”

Zhang Shan was silent for a long moment. “But… aren’t there other ways to protect? Does it always have to be fighting?”

“I don’t know how to do anything else. If someone’s good to me, I fight for them.”

Zhang Shan’s expression shifted, as if seeing Qiao Jiajin in a new light. They lived in the same world, yet their perspectives couldn’t be more different.

It was like finding the last beer in the fridge.

Zhang Shan would think, *Damn, only one left.*

Qiao Jiajin would say, *Hell yeah, I’ve still got one.*

Two men. One world. Two entirely inverted realities.