River Valley Town, second floor of the White Tit Tavern.
Xia Nan had never thought of himself as a narcissist.
Whether in his previous life as a wage slave or now, after crossing over, that had always been true.
But he had to admit that humanity's instinctive pursuit of advantages in survival had long since been deeply etched into his blood, quietly influencing his views and actions in daily life.
He made rigorous training plans and carried them out with unwavering discipline. Clear phased goals meant the positive feedback after completing each plan continually gave him the drive to move forward.
Every swing of the sword, every page of knowledge, even every point of proficiency gave him an intense sense of control over his body and life. Amid sweat and the process of growing stronger, the pressure and anxiety brought by this strange otherworld gradually eased.
The morning sunlight refracted through the glass, casting water-rippled patches of light across the bed. Fine dust drifted and swayed in the air.
Having returned from morning training and taken a cold bath in the stream outside town, Xia Nan's short black hair was still a little damp, stirring faintly in the breeze beyond the window.
The mirror was mottled and faintly blurred, its edges tinged with copper rust, but it still reflected the body before it in full—a body that seemed to have been tempered through thousands of hammer blows.
Nearly one meter ninety tall, his robust build far exceeded the human average. Just standing there, he gave off a faint sense of pressure.
His shoulders and back were broad and thick. His trapezius muscles were like two sturdy covered bridges, naturally extending from the base of his neck toward both shoulders and connecting to well-developed, full deltoids.
Long hours of wielding a