Triple Brute Force, Scholar Kills a Man

The bone-piercing cold wind poured into his collar again, slithering across his back like an icy snake.

Ji Ye's eyes flew open.

Before him stood that familiar earthen wall, covered in moss and mildew. The sky remained a bleak leaden gray, and the air reeked of rotten mud and sour water.

"Cough, cough..."

A familiar stabbing pain came from his lungs, inflammation caused by breathing in cold wind for too long. He lowered his head and looked at his hands, red and swollen like carrots from the cold, covered in chilblains.

He was still clutching that half a black-flour bun, hard as stone.

He was back.

He had truly come back.

Ji Ye took a deep breath. The icy air choked his windpipe, yet it left him clearer-headed than ever before.

The panel in his mind flickered faintly, then vanished.

[Talent loading complete.]

[Current status: Strength +90%.]

A strange sensation spread through his body. This body was still that helpless, destitute scholar's body—skin and bones, frail beyond measure. Yet deep within those shriveled muscle fibers, it was as though a beast had been stuffed inside. A scorching force rampaged through his veins, yearning to be unleashed.

The sensation was terribly disjointed.

Like a broken bicycle on the verge of falling apart, forcibly fitted with a Ferrari engine.

"Hey, Sour Scholar."

A hoarse voice interrupted Ji Ye's thoughts.

Ji Ye did not look up, but a cold curve touched his lips.

He would never forget that voice, even in death.

In his previous life, at this very time and place, the owner of that voice had kicked two of his ribs clean through. Those broken bones had never fully healed before his death, aching faintly whenever rain came.

Footsteps drew closer.

They crunched sharply over the frozen, rotten mud.

"That bun's hard. It might crack your teeth."

A large hand reached over, carrying a heavy stench of sour rot, and grabbed directly for the black-flour bun in Ji Ye's hand. "Let me help you deal with it."

It was One-Eye.

A little tyrant among the refugees around here, who bullied plenty of newcomers by relying on his sturdy build.

Several refugees huddled in the corners watched this scene numbly. No one spoke. Some even had a flicker of schadenfreude in their eyes. In this world where people devoured people, watching another suffer misfortune seemed to give their own pitiful sense of superiority a shred of satisfaction.

According to the script of his previous life, Ji Ye would instinctively protect his food, then be kicked to the ground.

But this time—

The instant One-Eye's fingers were about to touch the black-flour bun, Ji Ye moved.

There was no needless talk, no flashy technique.

Still seated on the ground, he suddenly shot out his left hand. Like an iron clamp, it precisely seized One-Eye's outstretched wrist.

"Hm?"

One-Eye froze for a moment. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back, cursing under his breath. "You're courting death..."

But the next second, his expression changed.

It would not budge.

That scholar who looked as though a gust of wind could knock him over—his withered, twig-like hand had somehow rooted itself around One-Eye's wrist!

"You..."

One-Eye's single eye widened. Before he could react, Ji Ye slowly raised his head.

There was no fear in those eyes, no weakness—only a calmness that made his scalp prickle. It was the gaze Ji Ye had gained only after seeing countless corpses in mass graves: indifferent to life, including his own.

"This bun really is hard."

Ji Ye spoke softly, his voice as hoarse as two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together.

The next moment, his five fingers clenched fiercely.

Strength +90%.

This was not merely numbers piled on top of one another. In terms of human biomechanics, a near doubling of strength was enough to bring about a qualitative change. Especially when that strength was applied directly to a fragile joint.

Crack!

A crisp, teeth-grinding snap rang clearly through the deathly silent corner.

"Ahhh—!!!"

One-Eye let out a pig-slaughtering scream, his entire body convulsing as if struck by lightning. His wrist bent backward at a grotesque angle. Pale shards of bone pierced through the skin, and blood immediately gushed out.

"My hand! My hand!!"

The refugees who had been watching instantly widened their eyes, staring as though they had seen a ghost.

Was this still that Sour Scholar who fell over with a single shove?

Ji Ye did not stop.

Fifteen years of clawing his way along the bottom in his previous life had taught him one truth: if you did not kill a snake, it would bite back. Since he had acted, he had to either beat the other man into submission in one go—or cripple him.

Taking advantage of the moment One-Eye bent over in agony, Ji Ye gripped that hard black-flour bun in his right hand, used all his strength, and smashed it viciously into One-Eye's temple.

Bang!

A dull thud.

The black-flour bun was not a brick, but with nearly twice an ordinary person's strength behind it, it was not much less hard.

One-Eye's scream cut off abruptly.

His burly body swayed, then toppled stiffly into the mud like a rotten log. He twitched twice, then did not move again.

Blood trickled from his temple, staining the black-flour bun red.

The entire place fell silent.

Only the wind continued to howl.

Ji Ye panted heavily, his heart pounding violently. His body was simply too weak to bear the strain of that burst of exertion. That string of movements had darkened his vision, and his arm muscles ached as though they were about to split apart.

But he had won.

And he had won cleanly.

Ji Ye slowly rose to his feet, staggering slightly because his legs had gone numb. He did not look at One-Eye, whose fate was unknown. Instead, he picked up the bloodstained black-flour bun, wiped it casually on his clothes, stuffed it into his mouth, and bit down hard.

Crunch.

Mixed with the taste of blood and mud, it was still disgustingly awful.

But he chewed with great force.

He turned and swept his gaze over the terrified refugees around him. Everyone his eyes passed over instinctively shrank their necks and avoided his gaze.

That was the rule.

Whether in the Great Liang Dynasty or beneath this wall, the bigger fist was the hard truth.

Ji Ye swallowed the food in his mouth, walked over to One-Eye, bent down, and began stripping off his padded coat.

The coat was filthy and tattered too, but it was far better than Ji Ye's single-layered garment, with reed fluff poking through it.

No one dared stop him.

No one even dared breathe loudly.

Putting on the padded coat that still held One-Eye's body heat, Ji Ye finally felt some warmth return to his body. He rummaged through One-Eye's clothes again and found more than a dozen copper coins, along with a rusty little dagger.

"Heh, you had quite a bit to your name."

Ji Ye put away his spoils, then gave One-Eye one last look.

The man was most likely finished. In this winter, with scarce medicine and little treatment, a comminuted wrist fracture plus a concussion left him with nothing but death.

But Ji Ye felt not the slightest ripple in his heart.

If he had been the one lying there today, One-Eye would only have stripped away his last piece of clothing and thrown him into the snow to freeze to death.

"This life..."

Ji Ye looked up at the dim sky. That old crow was still cawing on the dead tree.

He clenched his fist and felt the surging strength within him.

"I will not be an ant."

Three days later.

Black Stone County, behind the county yamen.

Ji Ye's appearance had completely changed. He had spent money to bathe at a bathhouse and shave off his messy beard. Though still thin, the scholarly air about him, paired with the cold severity between his brows, made him look less like a refugee and more like a fallen young nobleman.

He stood before a notice.

It was a notice from the county yamen recruiting Constable's Assistants.

In his previous life, he had not even made it past the gatekeeper.

But this time, he had confidence.

Great Liang valued martial prowess. Even when the county yamen recruited temporary workers, they tested their strength.

"Those who can lift a hundred-jin stone lock may be hired."

At this moment, quite a few people had gathered before the notice. Several broad-shouldered, thick-waisted men were trying to lift the bluish-black stone lock.

"Ha!"

A burly man turned red in the face and barely lifted the stone lock to his knees before he could raise it no farther. He could only set it down dejectedly.

"Next!" The constable in charge of the assessment waved his hand impatiently. "A bunch of trash. You can't even lift a stone lock, and you still want to eat the Emperor's grain?"

A burst of laughter rose from the crowd.

Ji Ye straightened his collar and stepped forward.

"I'll give it a try."

The surrounding laughter stopped abruptly. The crowd looked at the thinly built scholar, their expressions turning strange.

"You?" The constable sized him up and sneered. "Studied until your brains turned to mush, did you? If that stone lock falls on you, it'll crush those skinny arms and legs of yours. Get lost. Don't make trouble for me."

"How would I know if I don't try?"

Ji Ye smiled faintly and walked straight to the stone lock.

The stone lock was marked at one hundred jin—fifty kilograms. It was not too difficult for a burly man who worked year-round, but for a scholar like the original owner of this body, whose body was drained and weak, it was simply an impossible task.

But Ji Ye was different now.

Though the original owner had been weak, he was still an adult man. His base strength had to be at least several dozen jin. With a ninety-percent increase...

It was enough.

Ji Ye drew a deep breath and gripped the stone lock's rough handle with both hands.

His qi sank into his dantian, waist and stance as one.

"Up!"

With a low shout, Ji Ye's arms suddenly tensed. Though lean, the lines of his muscles became distinctly visible.

The stone lock that had defeated countless burly men seemed far lighter in his hands, rising steadily from the ground!

Knees, waist, chest...

Finally, he raised it high over his head!

Though Ji Ye's arms trembled faintly and his face had gone pale—signs of insufficient stamina—his strength was undeniably real.

The entire place was silent as a grave.

The constable's mocking words stuck hard in his throat. His eyes were wider than brass bells.

"This scholar... was he born with divine strength?"

Someone muttered.

Ji Ye did not immediately set it down. He held on for three breaths before heavily smashing the stone lock onto the ground.

Bang!

Dust billowed up.

He dusted off his hands, looked at the dumbfounded constable, and smiled.

"Sir, what do you think?"