First-Year Internship—And You Went to Site 749 to Contain Monsters?!
Chapter 308: I’ve Taken a Liking to Your Life—You Gonna Give It or Not?

He collapsed like jelly, blood gushing endlessly from his mouth.

Lu Ding took a step toward him.

Behind him, Di Wei breathed his last.

Di Dao lay tangled in a pile of firewood, trying over and over to get up, but his injuries were too severe—he simply couldn’t.

He could only watch Lu Ding walk closer, utterly powerless.

That kick just now hadn’t only shattered half his bones. It had also severed his meridians.

Even if he somehow survived this encounter with Lu Ding—

Afterwards,

Not even the Di family’s resources could fix him.

The rest of his life would be nothing but that of a cripple.

But could he really live?

Lu Ding stepped right on his broken ribs and pressed down hard.

Blood was squeezed from his abdomen, one mouthful after another.

Fractured bones jabbed deeper into the flesh under the pressure.

He screamed.

“AHHHHHHH!!!!”

“Weren’t you acting all tough a second ago? Get up. Keep acting, let’s see.”

Lu Ding said.

Di Dao lay there, hacking up blood, his weak arms trying to shove Lu Ding’s foot off his chest.

“Cough... cough... Who... who are you... I’m... I’m with the Di family... There shouldn’t be any beef between us...”

Lu Ding turned his head toward Carpenter Yang.

“You got any beef with them?”

Carpenter Yang guarded the girl behind him and shook his head: “No. He just wanted me to make coffins for his family. Now he’s eyeing my craft.”

Hearing that—

Lu Ding turned back and looked down at Di Dao: “See that? You didn’t have any beef with him either, did you?”

“There may be no beef between us, but I’ve taken a liking to your life.”

“You asked Carpenter Yang for his craft, he refused, and you guys were clearly about to get rough. Now I’ve got my eye on your life. You gonna give it to me, or not?”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was full of pressure.

There was even a bit of mocking amusement in his tone.

Di Dao looked up, his gaze landing on that faint smirk at Lu Ding’s lips.

Suddenly, he understood.

This man in front of him—he was being humiliated.

He opened his mouth, about to spit out a curse—

CRACK!!

Before he could even speak—

Lu Ding stomped his foot straight into Di Dao’s chest.

The force was tremendous. The ground trembled.

BOOM!!!

The man underfoot died on the spot.

Think you’re gonna curse?

Lu Ding was never going to give him the chance.

He lifted his foot.

Off to the side, Yan Feifan quickly formed a hand seal.

Spiritual energy gathered in his hand, condensing into a mist that enveloped Lu Ding’s shoe.

Within a second,

The mist dispersed.

The blood and filth were gone—his shoe clean as new.

Purification Technique.

A cheap, low-tier spell.

Useless to most. But for Yan Feifan? Extremely handy.

Lu Ding nodded.

Glanced at the hand seal in Feifan’s hands.

Not bad—harmony of man and technique. He immediately memorized it.

As he raised his hand,

the Gentle Ghost Hand passed him the ink line tool and a bottle of pills.

He walked over to Carpenter Yang.

“Uncle Yang, thanks for the ink line last time. It really helped me out.”

He handed over the items.

That one “Uncle” had Carpenter Yang beaming!

By age,

It was completely normal for Lu Ding to call him uncle.

But among Qi Refiners, nobody cared about age—

It was all about ability.

Forget “uncle”—if it were someone else with skills like Lu Ding’s,

Even if they called Carpenter Yang “old fart,” he’d smile and nod.

The smile on Yang’s face didn’t fade. He waved his hands: “Come on now... I already told you it’s a gift, why are you still... sigh...”

“This is your family heirloom. It’s not right for me to keep it. And more importantly—

Someday, you can pass it down to the kid. Let her carry it on. You can’t just let it end here.”

Lu Ding lowered his head and met the girl’s gaze.

Those bright, watery eyes looked right back at him.

Long lashes fluttered.

She was small—but sharp.

She understood what those two guys said earlier.

They had looked down on her.

And now, she understood Lu Ding’s words too—he was acknowledging her.

Her lips pouted slightly, trying hard not to cry.

“I’ll definitely pass down Grandpa’s skills.”

Lu Ding smiled, spread his hands: “See?”

Carpenter Yang’s eyes glowed with warmth. He rose slowly, bloodstains faintly streaking his clothes.

With a wave of his hand: “Among brothers of the craft, we never act cheap or petty.”

At this point, if he kept refusing—it would be rude.

And Carpenter Yang wasn’t that kind of guy.

He reached out and took the items.

But he didn’t accept the pills.

Lu Ding pressed down on his hand, forcing the pills into his palm:

“Young folks like me spend more time in the hills than in books—know the worth of things but not the etiquette. If I’ve been crude or out of line, I ask for your understanding.”

Carpenter Yang was speechless for a moment.

“Sigh...”

This young man—his manners were impeccable.

He accepted the pills, then said: “Have you eaten yet?”

Craft brothers had their code—you showed me your courtesy, and I’ll show you mine.

No gold mountains or grand feasts,

But a meal? That had to happen.

Lu Ding understood.

In his past life, he’d seen shows on TV about these coded phrases and got curious—never thought he’d actually use them one day.

Carpenter Yang followed the etiquette without breaking form.

Lu Ding didn’t make a show of it either. Just answered in plain words: “I’m starving.”

“Perfect. Sit for a bit. Breakfast’s simple, hope you don’t mind.”

The little girl piped up right away: “I’ll go pick pea shoots!”

She dashed off past the two corpses, nimble and cute.

She was scared, sure.

But she didn’t cry or scream.

That impressed Lu Ding.

Kids in situations like this—it’s normal to cry. But she held it in.

Adorable and tough.

Soon, the old man and the girl came back, each holding a large bowl.

Lu Ding’s bowl—was brought over by the girl herself.

It wobbled in her tiny hands.

Yan Feifan saw it and smiled: “Lu, why does your bowl smell better than mine?”

Lu Ding held the bowl up: “Look who delivered it.”

He slurped up the noodles.

The aroma of the pea shoots burst in his mouth.

He couldn’t stop eating.

Chili oil noodles with pea shoots—a north-south fusion dish.

Carpenter Yang, chewing slowly, suddenly asked, “May I ask your name, sir?”

Last time, he only knew Lu Ding was a 749 investigator—not his name.

“No need for formality. Last name’s Lu.”

“Brother Lu, the Di family’s behavior has been suspicious lately. If you’ve got any plans for them, best act soon.”

This old man wasn’t green.

He was sharp. Quick thinker.

Lu Ding handled things with care. He was with 749. And he’d just taken two lives without blinking.

There was no way that was just for Carpenter Yang’s sake.

Yang wasn’t vain enough to think his face held that much weight.

So odds were—Lu Ding was targeting the Di family to begin with.

Those two just had the bad luck to run into him.

That was the only explanation that made sense.

Yan Feifan listened quietly.

He put down his chopsticks: “Young man’s name is Yan Feifan. Uncle Yang, if you don’t mind me asking—how exactly are they being suspicious?”

He hadn’t spoken before because that was between Lu and Carpenter Yang.

But now it was business.

In official matters—if you’ve got questions and can sniff out answers, don’t wait for a superior to ask.

Because that would be a loss of face.

But there’s a catch: if you’re not 100% sure, never do it.