Jasper Cole emerged from the abandoned mine with dust still clinging to his clothes.
The moment he stepped into the open, he saw them.
A group of broad-shouldered men blocked the path ahead. At their center stood a man in a leather coat, a vicious scar cutting across his face like a brand burned into flesh. He stood casually, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Ronan Scarhand.
Beside him was a villager with a swollen face and bruises all over. The man pointed at Jasper, his voice shrill.
"Boss, it's him! I heard him talking trash about you behind your back. I couldn't stand it, so I went to confront him—and he beat me like this! Boss, you have to avenge me!"
Ronan listened without interruption. When the man finally finished, Ronan's gaze shifted to Jasper.
"Is that true?" he asked calmly.
Jasper looked at them with open disdain."If you want to fight, then fight. Why waste breath on nonsense?"
Ronan froze for half a second—then smiled. The scar on his face twisted as his expression softened into something almost amused.
"Not bad," Ronan said. "I like your attitude."
The bruised villager sensed something was off. Panic flashed across his face. He hastily waved his hand.
"What are you waiting for?! Get him!"
Several men drew their blades and rushed forward. Among them were cultivators at Bronze Tier, Rank 2.
Jasper didn't bother retreating.
He drew his short sword and charged straight at the front man.
The attacker thrust his longsword forward. Jasper snapped his left hand out, smashing into the man's forearm. A sharp crack echoed—bones shattered instantly. The man screamed as his sword fell from his grip.
Jasper stepped in and drove his short sword cleanly into the man's heart.
He felt… nothing.
No hesitation. No nausea.
Perhaps because this man deserved it.
The remaining attackers reacted at once, surging in together. Two of them flanked Jasper from either side.
Jasper released his mental force.
Their movements slowed in his perception—every twitch, every shift of weight laid bare.
Just as their blades were about to strike, Jasper grabbed the left attacker's wrist and twisted hard.
A sickening crunch.
The man's arm went limp.
At the same time, Jasper slammed his short sword against the second man's blade. The impact tore open the man's grip, splitting the skin of his palm.
Jasper spun in place.
His leg lashed out in a brutal roundhouse kick.
The man tried to block with his sword.
A mistake.
Jasper's physical strength alone already overwhelmed Bronze Tier, Rank 1 opponents. Even Rank 2 cultivators wouldn't dare take him head-on—especially now that he reinforced the strike with qi.
The kick sent the man flying. His arm bones shattered completely. He would never wield a heavy weapon again.
Useless.
Jasper finished him with a single thrust through the heart, then straightened.
Blood splattered across his tattered gray-black clothes. His overgrown bangs hid his eyes, but the killing intent radiating from him was unmistakable—cold, sharp, suffocating.
The last villager—the one who had accused him—froze.
He didn't dare move.
Jasper stepped toward him, slow and deliberate.
Behind him, the man with the shattered wrist lay on the ground, moaning. To the villager's ears, the sound was like a demon whispering his name.
When Jasper reached him, the villager collapsed to his knees.
"B–Big brother! I was blind! Please—please spare me! I swear I'll never do it again! Please!"
Jasper didn't answer.
He raised his short sword and drew it lightly across the man's neck.
The villager felt a chill, like a breeze brushing past his skin.
He knew what came next.
Jasper wiped the blade clean on the man's clothes until the metal shone once more. Without looking back, he turned and walked toward the village.
From behind, Ronan Scarhand watched the entire scene. He rubbed his chin, eyes gleaming.
"Heh. Interesting kid."
The kneeling villager stared at Jasper's retreating back with pure hatred burning in his eyes.
Jasper returned to the village soaked in blood, ignoring the stares of the onlookers as he walked straight into Garrick Forge's house.
"Oh, you're back," Garrick said, looking up from his work. "How was the harvest? I heard Wade Brant took people to trouble you. You alright?"
Then Garrick actually looked at him.
His face changed instantly.
He rushed over, grabbing Jasper and checking him from head to toe. Finding only superficial wounds, he exhaled in relief.
"Why are you covered in blood? You didn't… kill Wade, did you?"
Jasper waved it off. "Relax, Garrick. I didn't kill him. I killed two of the men he brought and crippled one."
Garrick's heart finally settled—then leapt straight back into his throat.
"What?! You killed two and crippled one?! And Gavin Brant didn't even intervene?! Tell me everything. Now."
Jasper recounted the events from start to finish, omitting anything related to the system.
When Garrick heard the last part, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"What?! You found gold ore?!"
Jasper clamped a hand over Garrick's mouth instantly and scanned the surroundings with mental force.
"Lower your voice! This is a secret—only you, me, heaven, earth, and the Creator know. Not a fourth person."
Garrick nodded vigorously.
"That scarred man was Ronan Scarhand—Bronze Tier, Rank 6," Garrick said quietly. "He's well-known around these parts. No idea why he came back to the village, but he hasn't meddled in outside affairs since."
"He values loyalty. Has a solid reputation."
"The ones you killed were probably fence-sitters. And from what I saw, Ronan seems to like you. That could be useful one day."
Jasper nodded.
He pretended to take out gold ore from his bag—though in truth, it came from the system inventory—and offered half of it to Garrick.
Garrick pushed it back immediately. "Why are you giving this to me? I may be poor, but I won't take your gold. You earned it."
"Please take it," Jasper said seriously. "If you hadn't saved me, I'd have been zombie food already. You taught me cultivation and forging. Without you, I'd never have found the gold."
Garrick hesitated, then finally accepted it.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Old Garrick, you in there? It's Scarhand."
Garrick opened the door. "Well I'll be damned. What brings you here?"
Ronan laughed. "You picked up one hell of a disciple. Kid's got guts. Reminds me of myself back in the day."
Watching from the side, Jasper realized the two men knew each other well—apparently from past brawls.
Ronan turned to Jasper. "Ever thought about running with me? I guarantee you'll eat well."
Garrick immediately bristled. "Hey! Don't poach my apprentice!"
Jasper smiled faintly. "Thanks for the offer, Uncle Ronan. I appreciate it."
Ronan didn't press the issue. After chatting a bit longer, he left, calling over his shoulder, "If you ever can't make it, come find me. I'll keep you fed."
Jasper watched him go and couldn't help but think—
This guy's been digging up talent for decades. A true professional.