Twenty minutes later, it was done.
Jiang Dao stood, a slight frown creasing his brow. He had squeezed every last drop of information from the man in black, and it was just as he'd suspected.
Magistrate Wang was playing a dirty game, letting people flee the city only to have his own men ambush them on the road, murdering them for their fortunes—a classic, brutal scheme.
But one piece didn't fit.
"The strange things happening back in the city," Jiang Dao pressed, "is that the Imperial Court's doing?"
"I don't know, I swear I don't," the man gasped, agony lacing his voice. "Please, don't kill me…"
Jiang Dao's mind raced. Could the court be working with the evil spirits? Sealing the city as a feeding ground? But why? What could they possibly gain?
He shifted his focus. "The martial arts you practice—what are they called?"
"Wind-Chasing Saber," the man stammered, "and… and Poisonous Sand Palm."
"Poisonous Sand Palm," Jiang Dao repeated, a glint in his eye. "Good. Teach me both, and I'll let you live."
The man's eyes widened. "Teach… teach you? You'll really let me go?"
Jiang Dao leaned in, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. "If you don't, I'll carve the flesh from your bones and make you eat it."
Terror won out. "Okay, I'll teach you! I'll teach you…"
And so, through the pain of his broken arm, the man began to spill the secrets of his arts. He first detailed the lethal intricacies of the Poisonous Sand Palm, then walked Jiang Dao through the fluid forms and deadly principles of the Wind-Chasing Saber.
The night bled away as Jiang Dao absorbed it all, questioning every detail. He wasn't worried about being tricked. His internal panel, the strange interface that governed his power, would fail to register a fake technique. He'd know instantly.
Sometime in the dead of night, it happened. Two new lines of text appeared on his mental display:
Wind-Chasing Saber [Modifiable]
Poisonous Sand Palm [Modifiable]
Finally, he thought, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. The night wasn't a total loss.
"So… can I go now?" the man in black asked, his voice trembling with a pathetic shred of hope.
Jiang Dao almost sighed. "Why do villains always ask such stupid questions right before they die?"
Crack.
His hand shot out, five fingers piercing the man's skull. His fate had been sealed the moment their eyes met.
Getting to his feet, Jiang Dao focused on the panel in his mind's eye and gave the command to modify. The characters blurred and reformed in an instant:
Wind-Chasing Saber (60-Year Mastery) [Unmodifiable]
Poisonous Sand Palm (60-Year Mastery) [Unmodifiable]
A jolt, electric and profound, shot through him. His body changed in a heartbeat. Decades of knowledge flooded his mind, his bones popped and settled, and his frame grew denser, more powerful. He could feel new, terrifying strength humming beneath his skin.
His hands had grown larger, and a strange energy now pooled in his palms. When he flexed them, they flushed a deep crimson, as if stained with blood. This was the Poisonous Sand Palm at its peak—a single touch could deliver a lethal dose of toxin.
He rechecked his stats. They had jumped.
Strength: 1.8
Speed: 1.6
Spirit: 1.2
The numbers on the panel were deceptive. A mere 0.3 increase in Strength felt like his power had multiplied eightfold. Each tenth of a point was an exponential leap.
Staring at his crimson palms, Jiang Dao felt a familiar thought resurface. Maybe now… maybe I'm strong enough to take on one of those evil spirits. The gnawing hunger in my gut is gone, too. I don't feel that constant need for energy anymore.
He now holds the mastery of five separate martial arts, each honed to a level that would normally take sixty years to achieve. A warrior like him had to be a rarity in the Daye Dynasty. He could probably crush a steel saber with his bare hands. A blade swung by an ordinary man wouldn't even scratch him.
"These evil spirits," he mused, his eyes narrowing. "Are they really invincible?"
The stronger he became, the more he wanted to find out.
He bent down and pulled a thick wad of banknotes from the dead man's robes. In the flickering torchlight, he saw they were all high-denomination bills—thousands of taels each. It was a fortune, easily half a million taels of silver.
This must be the loot from all the wealthy kids who tried to sneak out of the city this week.
It made sense. Faced with supernatural horrors, the rich merchants would do anything to get their heirs to safety. The tragic irony was that they had escaped the spirits inside the walls only to be butchered by bandits on the road.
Jiang Dao shoved the notes into his coat, picked a sturdy-looking saber from the ground, and tucked it into his belt. He turned to his brothers, who were huddled together, still pale with shock.
"You'll stay here at the ruined temple tonight," he commanded. "In the morning, Jiang Feng, you take the others and head to Fengzhou City. It should be safe there. Send word home when you arrive."
"Big Brother, what about you?" Jiang Feng stammered, his voice trembling. "You're not coming with us?"
Jiang Dao looked him dead in the eye. "I'm going back. I have to check on Dad."
He started walking toward the temple, his brothers scrambling to follow. His younger sister, Jiang Ruyan, was still retching, her body shaking uncontrollably as she stumbled along.
"Ruyan, you'll sleep next to me tonight," he said gently.
Though she was still terrified, she nodded. The thought of sleeping alone with all those dead bodies just outside was unbearable.
The night passed. At dawn, Jiang Dao handed his second brother the black bundle their father had given him. "There's money in here. Use it wisely. And don't you dare bully your sister. If I hear that any of you laid a hand on her, I'll come back and peel the skin from your bones myself."
He swept his icy gaze across his five useless brothers. They flinched, forcing nervous smiles.
"Of course not, Big Brother! We'd never!"
"Right, never!"
He lifted Ruyan onto Jiang Feng's horse. "You stick with your brother. Write when you get to Fengzhou."
"Big Brother," she whispered, her eyes wide with worry, "be careful."
He gave a slight nod, then swung onto his own horse and spurred it back toward Hengzhou City. Running away like this felt wrong. It felt weak. With the mastery of five martial arts coursing through him, he had to be worth something in a fight. Even if he couldn't kill the spirits, surely he could survive them.
Twenty minutes later, he was at the city gates, shouting up at the walls. "Constable Zhang! Open up, it's me!"
The constable's head appeared over the parapet, his face a mask of disbelief. He's alive? How is that possible? Did Fang Biao and his men fail?
"Young Master Jiang!" Zhang called down, fishing for information. "Where are your brothers?"
"Let me in first, Constable! We can talk inside!" Jiang Dao yelled back.
Constable Zhang hesitated, his mind churning, but finally waved a hand. A small gate creaked open.
Jiang Dao rode through. Zhang hurried over, a fake smile plastered on his face. "Young Master Jiang, good to see you. Weren't your brothers with you last night? Where did they go?"
"I saw them off to Dengzhou City, then rode back through the night," Jiang Dao replied smoothly.
"And you didn't run into any trouble on the road?" Zhang pressed, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" Jiang Dao feigned ignorance.
"Ah, never mind. It's nothing," the constable said with a dismissive laugh. "Well, since you're safe, you'd best get home. But be warned, now that you're back inside the city, the gates are sealed. There's no getting out again."
"Thanks for the warning, Constable Zhang."
Jiang Dao nodded, giving the man one last, long look. He could feel the cold smile spreading across his own face. Magistrate Wang had dared to cross him. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
First, he'd deal with the evil spirits. Then, he was coming for the magistrate.