A Familiar Name-Qinghe, Qinghe Town?

"Eldest Brother, have some tea." Gan Ping, his face black and blue with bruises, obediently offered He Zhao a cup of hot tea with both hands after his return from training. The other seven, even more battered than he was, hurried forward to massage his legs and shoulders, their movements remarkably practiced.

The naive rookie Cavalry Captain: "."

Were you eight people masochists?

I was usually polite, yet you all kept your eyes on me and bullied me relentlessly.

Now that a tougher guy had arrived at the barracks, everyone had suddenly turned into lackeys.

Damn it!

"Mm, was ginseng added to this? It tastes good. Little Ping, you've been thoughtful. You don't need to join tonight's boxing practice. Get some proper rest." He Zhao took a sip of tea and nodded in satisfaction.

Gan Ping beamed with joy at the words. At last, he would not have to serve as a punching bag and get beaten up.

The remaining seven wore miserable expressions. "."

Someone surnamed He had only been in the Elite Camp for three days, yet the eight of them combined had been beaten eighteen times.

Morning, noon, afternoon, night—as long as Ruthless He Zhao had time, he would immediately grab them and unleash a round of Basic Fist Technique, calling it a sparring match.

At first, this lot had dared to resist. But after several failed "uprisings" and subsequent suppression, they simply lay flat on the ground and let He Zhao do as he pleased.

You could conquer our bodies, but don't dream of crushing our spirits!

"Alright, none of you will need to practice boxing with me anymore."

"Thank you, Captain!!"

Former Captain Gan Ping: "."

Could you people show a little conscience?

It was not that He Zhao had grown kind-hearted. Rather, against targets that offered no resistance whatsoever, even if a set of Basic Fist Technique left them utterly miserable, his proficiency did not increase one bit.

[Basic Fist Technique: 25/1000 (Minor Accomplishment)]

[Basic Saber Technique: 0/1000 (Minor Accomplishment)]

[Basic Archery Technique: 0/1000 (Minor Accomplishment)]

[Basic Shield Technique: 0/500 (Proficient)]

[Basic Battle Formation: 0/500 (Proficient)]

[Military Fist Technique: 0/500 (Proficient)]

Over the past few days, He Zhao had not practiced Basic Fist Technique. Spending a dozen seconds beating someone up was far faster than bitterly drilling fifteen sets of punches, was it not?

He devoted the time he saved to tackling saber techniques, archery, and Military Fist Technique with all his strength.

Besides, it had to be said that not every Noble Scion who could enter the Elite Camp was useless.

Though Gan Ping always liked shouting about how his father was a Hereditary Earl, his skills were not bad. At the very least, when the entire squad drilled Basic Battle Formation together, he never made a mistake.

Could Diligence Compensates for Lack of Talent have some special hidden effect? Otherwise, the improvements these basic skills bring me are far too exaggerated. He Zhao pondered to himself as he casually threw a punch.

Bang!

His unprotected fist struck the wooden bed in the barracks, instantly smashing it and sending splinters flying.

Gan Ping, who had been brimming with delight, stared at his ruined bed in utter bewilderment. Yet he did not dare utter a single complaint.

Half a year passed in the blink of an eye.

Over those six months, He Zhao not only ground all his basics to Perfection, but also learned other weapons, along with unarmed combat such as palm strikes, leg techniques, and grappling.

At the same time, he came to understand every advancement requirement.

Skills were divided into five levels: Roughly Understand (0/100), Proficient (0/500), Minor Accomplishment (0/1000), Great Accomplishment (0/5000), and Perfection (0/10000).

Perfection required a full ten thousand repetitions!

With all five levels stacked together, that was a total of 16,600 repetitions!

He slept only four hours a day, using every remaining moment to train painstakingly. He did not dare pause in the slightest, afraid that if he gave up halfway, his future practice would turn into mere going through the motions.

Even the harshest instructor could not help admiring He Zhao's perseverance upon meeting him.

Of course, they were even more troubled by Ruthless He Zhao's "sparring."

Put it this way: ever since arriving at the Elite Camp, He Zhao had become notoriously infamous. No matter how thorny or unruly a Noble Scion was, the moment they saw him, their legs went weak and their whole bodies shook like sieves.

Among the thousand men in the camp, not one had escaped his savage beatings. For a time, merely mentioning him made people change color!

For the sake of proficiency, he had become utterly deranged.

[Mastery of Cold Weapons: Sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle-axes, hooks, forks—of the countless weapons under heaven, all may be wielded at will.]

After learning skills for dozens of weapons, they unexpectedly fused and transformed into a talent one day!

One could only say there were gains and losses, but in He Zhao's view, the gains outweighed the losses.

Because what he lost could be made up for elsewhere.

[Hand-to-Hand Combat: Fists, feet, palms, legs—there is nothing he does not excel in, nothing he does not understand. Stamina, strength, agility, reaction, blocking, resistance to blows, and attack speed: +1 across the board.]

He Zhao gradually emptied the Instructors of everything they knew, then set his sights on some recruits who knew a little inherited fist and footwork. After countless forced "sparring matches," he successfully learned their techniques in secret.

Then, on one dark and windy night, he gave several dozen people a thorough beating. After returning to the barracks, he suddenly discovered that those fist and foot techniques had fused and transformed into a new talent.

[Master Archer: Only when archery reaches divine mastery may one be called a god.]

This talent was exceptionally powerful. In broad daylight, He Zhao could shoot an arrow into solid rock. Ordinary armor and Heart Protector Mirrors could not stop his sharp arrows at all.

"Diligence Compensates for Lack of Talent definitely has a hidden effect. Otherwise, our equipment is all identical, so why am I the only one capable of this?"

"Brother Zhao, the higher-ups have assigned our field-training mission." Gan Ping led several lackeys into the barracks and handed each person the Token representing their identity.

"Speak." He Zhao adjusted his armor without raising his head.

"Kill every rebel from the Gao Family in Qinghe Town! A total of twenty squads will take part. If the Qinghe Militia dares resist, slaughter the entire force."

"???"

He Zhao abruptly raised his head. Cold light flashed in his eyes, making everyone present feel a chill rise in their hearts for no reason.

"Qinghe Town!"

He vaguely remembered that in the Past Life Mall, the second Simulation Scenario—which required ten Simulation Coins for an Admission Ticket—was named—[Qinghe Town: Demon Subjugation Chapter].

"Gan Ping, have you heard of demons?" He Zhao asked with a grave expression.

"Aren't those things from Buddhist scriptures?" Gan Ping, who had been a lackey for half a year, blurted out.

Forget it.

Rather than expect him to know any inside information, they might as well get themselves more equipment.

"Can we bring Spider Silk Nets?"

"What are those?"

Faced with everyone's confusion, He Zhao could not help covering his face.

"Do you know the Bureau of Peculiar Individuals?"

"Does Great Xuan have such an institution? If it did, as the second son of Earl of Qingning, I shouldn't be unaware of it." Perhaps considering Ruthless He Zhao's dignity, Gan Ping's eyes held a trace of confusion.

He Zhao: "."

So what exactly had happened to Great Xuan in the mere span of five years?

At this moment, let alone nets capable of affecting certain Monsters, even the so-called Bureau of Peculiar Individuals had yet to be established.

At dawn the next day, two hundred rookie Profound Armor Elites stood ready to depart.

Instructor Wu led them. After all, a new recruit's first mission outside camp had an extremely high chance of turning into a war involving more than eight hundred people. Without a leader, casualties could become exceedingly high—beyond what the Elite Warrior Camp could bear.

"Depart!!"