"Wang Hu…"
Xiao Bieli let out a quiet sigh as he looked at the middle-aged man leading the group.
In the memories of this body's original owner, Wang Hu had once been one of his father's trusted retainers—a capable fighter who had already stepped into the ranks of cultivators. In the Xiao clan, that gave him some standing.
The rest were nothing more than household servants, none of whom had reached the lowest rank.
"Young Master," Wang Hu said flatly, without a shred of respect in his eyes, "just come back with me. Don't make this hard on me."
One of the servants sneered. "Why waste words with him, Wang Hu? The Patriarch said a corpse is just as good as a live one."
Another grinned hungrily. Their gazes on Xiao Bieli weren't those of loyal servants, but of predators scenting profit.
The clan head had promised a reward of one hundred taels of silver for Xiao Bieli's body. Even if Wang Hu claimed the lion's share, the scraps left over would still dwarf their monthly pay. How could they resist?
"Young Master, you'd best not wave that knife around," Wang Hu said, narrowing his eyes at the saber in Xiao Bieli's hand. "You know the difference between us. Don't make me hurt you."
Wang Hu wasn't worried. He knew Xiao Bieli had studied some martial arts, but he was lazy and halfhearted. He was still far from entering the proper ranks.
The servants hefted their wooden staves, grins twisting into cruel smirks as they advanced.
Shing!
The Hundred-Forge Saber sang as it left its sheath.
Two heads flew into the air. Blood sprayed across the temple floor, splattering the stunned servants.
A message only Xiao Bieli could see appeared before his eyes:
+10 EXP!
+10 EXP!
Everyone froze.
That slash—too savage, too fast. They hadn't even seen it land.
Swish!
The blade gleamed again. Two more throats opened, blood gushing as their bodies collapsed.
+10 EXP!
+10 EXP!
Xiao Bieli's eyes gleamed with exhilaration.
"So this is what it feels like to kill?"
No disgust, no hesitation—only a rising thrill surged through his veins.
Fine robes, a fierce horse, a blade in hand… isn't this the life I wanted?
The Windstorm Blade flowed from him in a storm of steel. With every strike, more blood painted the broken temple.
In the span of only a few breaths, six bodies lay cooling on the ground.
"Ha!"
Wang Hu roared, seizing his chance. His blade crashed down like a mountain, aimed at Xiao Bieli's back.
But Xiao Bieli seemed to grow eyes in the back of his head.
Clang!
The Hundred-Forge Saber met the strike. Sparks flew.
Then—
Shhhk!
Wang Hu's scream split the air. His sword arm fell to the floor, still clutching his blade. Blood poured from the stump.
The surviving servants went pale.
One strike. Wang Hu, a ranked cultivator, couldn't even withstand a single strike.
"Run!" someone shouted.
The last five turned and bolted for the temple gates.
Xiao Bieli's eyes hardened. He kicked Wang Hu's fallen longsword into the air—
Whump!
The sword shot forward like a spear, skewering three men and pinning their bodies to the courtyard wall.
+10 EXP!
+10 EXP!
+10 EXP!
The two survivors collapsed to their knees, trembling, babbling for mercy.
"Young Master, forgive us! We were only following orders! Please, spare us!"
Wang Hu clutched his bleeding stump, face twisted in terror.
"You were hiding your strength all along," he muttered hoarsely. "Seventeen years old, already at Peak Ninth Rank, and your blade art at this level… why hide it? With talent like this, you could've joined any great sect."
His eyes filled with dread. "End it quickly…"
Shhhk!
The saber flashed. Wang Hu's body hit the ground with a dull thud.
+100 EXP!
Skill Drop: Iron Shirt (Seventh Rank)
"Oh?"
Xiao Bieli's brows rose. "A skill drop?"
So the loot system was real. And the drop rate wasn't bad at all.
"A Ninth Rank gave me only 10 EXP, but Wang Hu dropped 100—and a martial art. Not bad."
The last two servants whimpered.
Xiao Bieli landed lightly before them.
"In your next life, be better men."
One clean sweep. Two heads arced skyward.
+10 EXP!
+10 EXP!
He searched the corpses quickly, found a few taels of silver and some dry rations, and slipped into the mountains before reinforcements arrived.
Moments later, another group entered the ruined temple.
The Xiao clan's steward, Chen Zhong, surveyed the carnage, his voice low:
"Except for Wang Hu, nearly everyone was killed with a single stroke. The technique was clean, practiced. Could it be someone rescued Xiao Bieli?"
The other servants kept their heads down, shivering in silence.
Lin Hai, outer disciple of the Cangyuan Sword Sect, crouched and inspected the corpses. His eyes were cold.
"No," he said. "The scene was deliberately disturbed. We can't tell how many fought here. But these bodies have been cooling for less than half an incense stick. They haven't gotten far."
He rose, voice like steel.
"Bring the hounds. Hunt him down. The Young Master himself ordered Xiao Bieli's death. If he escapes, you know the consequences."
"Yes, yes!" Chen Zhong bowed frantically. He was strong himself, Peak Ninth Rank, but even he dared not cross a disciple of the Cangyuan Sword Sect.
Deep in the dusk-shrouded Luoxia Mountains, Xiao Bieli crouched by a stream, gulping cold, clear water and stuffing his mouth with stale bread. He had run hard for more than an hour. Even with his new strength, exhaustion clawed at him.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Barking shattered the night. Two massive hounds lunged at him through the underbrush.
Shhhk!
One slash. Two heads rolled.
Hunters would never enter the mountains at dusk. This could only mean one thing—pursuers.
"Damn it." He wiped the blade, then sprinted deeper into the mountains.
Luoxia stretched vast. If he could survive a few days, he'd slip free. Lin Hai was just an outer disciple—he didn't have the power to mobilize all the nearby families to blockade the entire range.
And Xiao Bieli had the system. Give him a year, half a year even, and the Xiao clan would be nothing to him. As for the Cangyuan Sword Sect… once he was strong enough, vengeance would come.
Back at the stream, Lin Hai arrived with half a dozen servants and two fresh hounds.
"Lin Young Master, the dogs' bodies are still warm. He hasn't gone far."
"Chase," Lin Hai ordered coldly.
Beneath a pale moon, Xiao Bieli slumped against a tree, panting.
He summoned his system.
"So Iron Shirt has to be claimed manually?"
"Claim."
Boom!
Countless fragments of training knowledge seared into his mind. His skin burned, as though hammered by invisible fists. His flesh toughened under the brutal forging.
"Hah!"
He ran the technique full force. His once-fair skin darkened, hardening to a bluish-black sheen, tough like cowhide.
"Only five percent proficiency, but even so it'll dull a blade's edge. Better than nothing."
He glanced at his system panel:
Host: Xiao Bieli
Cultivation: Peak Ninth Rank
Martial Arts:
Muscle-Tendon Classic (5/100)
Iron Shirt (5/100)
Windstorm Blade (30/100)
Ripple Palm (10/100)
Black Tiger Fist (20/100)
Experience: 210
Down the mountain slope, torchlight flickered like fireflies. No matter how far he ran, his pursuers clung to his heels.
Xiao Bieli's jaw tightened. "If I'm cornered, I'll need every edge I can get. Iron Shirt might just keep me alive."
His decision made, he gave the order in his heart:
"Burn all EXP. Level up Iron Shirt."