A moment later, it was done.
Jiang Dao felt the power thundering through him, a raw, kinetic energy that made the air crackle when he clenched his fists. He felt bigger, broader—his very presence now a heavy weight in the room. Even standing perfectly still, he radiated a silent, unnerving threat.
A line of text scrolled through his mind, crisp and clear.
Mad Demon Staff Technique (120-Year Proficiency) [Modification Locked]
The thought hit him like a physical blow. One hundred and twenty years? Was this what it felt like to have a lifetime of mastery poured into him in a single instant?
He suppressed a surge of adrenaline and mentally tapped the next skill on his list. The same process unfolded with his [Blood Shadow Saber Technique]. But as soon as it hit the 120-year mark, he frowned. All the other techniques below it immediately grayed out, the [Modifiable] tag switching back to [Modification Locked].
Can I only do two at a time?
He pulled up his internal status, and the numbers confirmed his transformation.
Strength: 2.3
Speed: 1.9
Spirit: 1.2
…
"But why now?" he muttered to himself. "Everything was locked just a little while ago. What changed?"
He felt he was on the verge of something crucial. Some event, some trigger, had flipped the switch. If he could figure out what it was, could he do this on demand? Could he push all his skills to a thousand years of proficiency?
"Okay, think," he whispered, pacing the room. "I only did two things tonight: I obliterated that evil spirit, and I killed the old Daoist Changbai…"
It couldn't have been killing the Daoist. That was just a man.
Which left only one possibility.
"The evil spirit," he realized, a spark igniting in his eyes. "Killing it must have triggered some kind of change in the system."
It was the only thing that made sense. Did that mean every evil spirit he destroyed would unlock another upgrade?
He took a slow, deliberate breath, cataloging the changes in his body. With two skills advanced by 120 years, his skin, his bones, even his internal tissues felt denser, tougher. He was orders of magnitude stronger than he'd been just an hour ago.
Even more incredible, he looked down at his chest. The festering, corrosive wound left by the spirit child's claw was completely gone. The poison had been purged, and the flesh had sealed over, leaving behind nothing but a thick, clean scar. His new body was not just stronger, but it healed at an astonishing rate.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
He idly snapped his fingers, and the sound wasn't soft. It was a sharp crack that sliced through the air, like he was whipping steel rods.
A cold smile touched his lips.
"It's time I talked with Magistrate Wang."
The Imperial Court had sealed the city, leaving its people to be slaughtered by whatever horrors crawled out of the woodwork. It was a miracle that a government that corrupt had lasted this long. But Jiang Dao wasn't about to just lie down and die. He would force Magistrate Wang to give his family a way out.
He strode into the front courtyard.
The entire space was ablaze with light from lanterns and torches hung on every wall. His father, Jiang Dalong, along with Pang Lin and the others, was waiting in a state of high anxiety. His father, pale and tense, was pacing relentlessly.
The moment Jiang Dao appeared, they rushed toward him.
"Dao'er! Are you alright? Are you hurt?" his father asked, craning his neck to look up at him. Jiang Dao seemed to stand a full head taller than before.
"I'm fine, Father," Jiang Dao said, his voice a low rumble. "The old Daoist is dead. But we can't stay in Hangzhou City. We need to leave, now."
Pang Lin stared, his face a mask of disbelief. "You killed the Changbai Daoist? But… have you been secretly training in martial arts? Even so, there's no way you could have been a match for that old monster. How did you…"
"Let's just say I've had other opportunities I never spoke of," Jiang Dao cut him off smoothly. "I wanted to master the basics first, to see how everything connected."
"I see," Pang Lin said, his expression shifting to one of awe. "The heavens truly watch over you, Young Master."
Jiang Dalong's worry, however, only deepened. "Dao'er, you say we have to leave, but the magistrate has the city on lockdown. How can we get out? And now that he knows you survived his trap, he'll surely send assassins to silence you for good!"
He was right. Magistrate Wang was a venomous snake. He'd taken their money, then set an ambush to murder them and steal their fortune. The Jiang family couldn't have been his first target. If word got out to the other wealthy merchants that Wang was preying on them, his career would be over. He couldn't afford to have Jiang Dao alive.
"Don't worry, Father," Jiang Dao said with a humorless smirk. "We'll see who silences whom. I refuse to believe he's tougher than the old Daoist. I'm going to visit him tonight, and I'll make sure he lets us leave."
"I'll go with you, Young Master!" Pang Lin declared.
"No. Stay here and look after my father," Jiang Dao commanded. "I'll handle this alone."
"Then… be careful, Young Master."
Jiang Dao simply nodded. He grabbed a fresh saber, changed into a set of dark, practical clothes, and melted into the night, heading straight for the Magistrate's headquarters.
The night was deep and starless, with thick clouds swallowing the moon. A grim, eerie silence had fallen over Hengzhou City. This was once a city of vibrant night markets and pleasure houses that never slept. Now, since the coming of the evil spirits, it was a ghost town. By dusk, the streets were already empty.
Splash… slosh…
As he passed a canal cutting through the inner city, a sound made him freeze. He whipped his head around, eyes narrowed, and stared at the dark, still water.
A thick, putrid stench rolled off the bank—the unmistakable smell of rot. Vaguely, through the oppressive darkness, he could make out a grotesque black figure lurching out of the water. It staggered onto the path, its head lolling as a sick, twisted grin spread across its face.
Another one.
Jiang Dao didn't hesitate. He turned and vanished into the shadows, his heart pounding. The city was infested.
…
The Magistrate's headquarters was a fortress. The grounds were lit bright as day by a perimeter of torches, and squads of heavily armed soldiers stood guard. He could spot several martial artists among them—men with powerful frames and the steady, controlled breathing of trained fighters.
Jiang Dao barely gave them a second glance. He knew their caliber, and it was nothing.
In a single, fluid leap, he scaled the rear wall and dropped silently into the inner courtyard, completely unseen. The internal security was just as tight, with patrols everywhere. He moved like a ghost through the corridors, a shadow among shadows.
Then he saw him: a young servant walking down a hallway, a lantern in his hand.
Jiang Dao's arm shot out. He clamped a hand over the boy's mouth and dragged him into a dark alcove before he could make a sound.
"Don't scream," Jiang Dao's voice was a blade of ice against the boy's ear. "If you do, I'll snap your neck."
The servant, shaking uncontrollably, blinked his eyes and nodded frantically.
"Where is Magistrate Wang?" Jiang Dao asked, slightly loosening his grip.
"The… the study!" the boy stammered in a terrified whisper. "Through that courtyard ahead… It's the room with the light on."
Jiang Dao applied a sharp, precise pressure to the boy's neck. The servant's eyes rolled back, and he went limp, unconscious. Jiang Dao stuffed the body behind a decorative rockery and moved on.
He crossed the courtyard and saw it: a single room, warmly lit against the oppressive dark. Four yamen runners stood guard outside the door, hands resting on the hilts of their sabers.
Heavy security, Jiang Dao thought with a frown. His plan to just walk in was out. He'd have to kill them first.
He didn't wait.
Swoosh!
He exploded from the shadows, a black blur of motion.
"Who's there?" one of the guards yelled, reacting with impressive speed.
But he was too slow.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Four dull, sickening impacts echoed in the silent courtyard. The guards were thrown backward as if hit by a battering ram, their vital points crushed. They were dead before they hit the ground.
Jiang Dao burst through the door and into the study.
Inside, Magistrate Wang was hunched over his desk, greedily counting a stack of silver notes. He was so absorbed in his delight that he only noticed something was wrong when the candle flame beside him sputtered wildly, casting dancing shadows on the wall. A blast of wind tore through the room, and when he looked up, a terrifying figure was standing before him.
The magistrate gasped, his face draining of all color.
"You… you—"
"Say another word," Jiang Dao said, his eyes glowing with cold fury, "and you're dead."