Transformation

004 Transformation

No surprises—his body, already activated by Immortal Qi, allowed Ming Shu to dodge that lethal blade at the last possible moment.

Old Zhao had long noticed the changes in Ming Shu's body. He never doubted the boy would wake up. He'd even concealed from his superiors how the youth's body had been altered by the Immortal Pill.

Ming Shu rolled as he hit the ground, simultaneously dodging a downward chop from another attacker behind him.

The reinforcements from afar were already arriving in waves. Several with exceptional lightness skills leaped through the forest, stepping on branches and leaves, flying through the air to close in fast.

As the killer glanced around nervously, Old Zhao used the Flower Picking Hand, condensing Internal Power and true qi at his fingertips. They turned into needles, piercing precisely through one killer's forehead.

One down.

Ming Shu scrambled and crawled around the cart, barely evading the encirclement of two killers. Every blade whistled past him by a hair's breadth, each close call making Little Zhao's heart clench in worry.

By now, Little Zhao was handling two killers with ease.

Both of his short clubs had been chopped to pieces, but he calmly picked up branches and kept fighting.

This kind of insight and temperament was probably why Old Zhao had persisted all these years without giving up on him.

In the chaos, Qian Sanqian had already decided to abort the mission.

Unfortunately, after losing one killer, Old Zhao launched a desperate assault on another.

Leaving was no longer their choice.

The distant reinforcements were galloping in on swift horses.

The lightness-skill experts had already arrived.

They wore only gray face cloths covering the lower half of their faces—not even full black outfits. They might as well not have bothered disguising themselves.

Ming Shu had no time to mock them.

They'd probably rushed over to help and hadn't had time to mask up properly.

Qian Sanqian let out a shrill whistle, and the remaining killers gathered around him.

He hesitated for only a moment. But the tide had already turned, leaving him no chance to retreat.

They'd never had the resolve to fight to the death. They weren't professional killers—at best, they were thugs doing dirty work for some big shot.

But the reinforcements who arrived were just like Old Zhao—each one threw themselves into the fight with reckless abandon.

The leader was a woman. She whipped out a Soft Sword, part blade, part whip, sending streaks of cold light flying through the trees.

Qian Sanqian knew at a glance that she was also a master of the fifth-tier Martial Artist level: the Hua Jin Gui Yuan Realm.

Bitter regret filled his heart. He hadn't prepared enough. The other side had set a trap long ago, waiting for them to walk in.

The sweeter the bait had seemed before, the more bitter it tasted now.

If you can't abandon your comrades, if you can't be ruthless, don't become a killer.

Real professional killers always worked alone. A group like this looked more like bandits.

Ming Shu had finally escaped danger and regrouped with Little Zhao. They watched as Old Zhao and the reinforcements—three people—chased down ten.

For the first time, Ming Shu gained a rough understanding of this world's combat power.

When individual strength was overwhelming enough, it could truly crush the entire battlefield.

They chased and fought, the battle growing fiercer. Blood was finally being spilled.

Little Zhao pulled Ming Shu along, staying close behind, not daring to stray far from Old Zhao.

The female leader of the reinforcements swept her Soft Sword, unleashing a flurry of Sword Qi that instantly wounded three or four killers.

Only then did the other killers make up their minds to abandon their comrades and flee.

But it was too late. The later wave of reinforcements had already ridden around to block their escape route.

A masked archer loosed arrows in rapid succession—swish, swish, swish—one after another, never letting up.

Caught in a pincer attack, Qian Sanqian didn't even have a chance to surrender.

Another reinforcement, who had arrived with the female leader on lightness skill, held pebbles in his hand. Channeling his power, he flicked them one by one.

This method slowly ground down the remaining killers' will, preventing them from fighting desperately like cornered dogs and hurting anyone.

These people clearly had real experience fighting and killing in the martial world. They understood its dangers deeply.

Old Zhao didn't say much. He simply clasped his hands toward the female leader in thanks.

She waved her hand, signaling Old Zhao to leave first. Her people would handle the cleanup.

Old Zhao took a horse from one of them, and together with Little Zhao, helped Ming Shu mount. They returned to the original camp to pack up.

They left that very night.

As they departed, Ming Shu took a few more glances at the reinforcements. He noticed one of them performing some kind of ritual, and his entire presence changed.

Ming Shu felt the Life Book in his mind tremble and grow hot.

That man suddenly grew taller. A red headscarf wrapped around his head, and a crimson silk sash tied at his waist. Over his hips, he wore a gold-embroidered pleated undershirt.

His knee guards were bronze, his undergarments were also bronze, and iron plates and rings hung from his belt.

His wrists were bound tight, his shoes laced firmly.

Ming Shu only took a single glance from afar and felt that his strength might be ten times that of an ordinary man.

He charged forward without fear of blades, and with one massive fist, he directly burst a killer's head apart.

Like a sumo master charging into a herd of cattle, he planted his horse stance firmly, pushed and shifted his arms, then scooped up one man and slammed him headfirst to the ground, knocking him out cold.

Under the Main Tank's assault, the defensive formation led by Qian Sanqian collapsed outright.

And Ming Shu sat on his horse, the beast having only moved a few paces.

Old Zhao didn't look back; Little Zhao dared not glance around. Only Ming Shu, with a better view from atop the horse, turned his head with a youth's curiosity to stare at the battlefield.

In the blink of an eye, the defensive formation of killers standing back-to-back had already been broken.

What followed was a one-sided slaughter.

Little Zhao had already run back to the chaotic camp to gather his belongings. Their luggage was light, so it was quickly packed, and he even picked up a blade along the way.

Only after Old Zhao's approval did he wrap it in cloth and hide it among the luggage.

Ming Shu lay back down on the cart, feigning unconsciousness once more.

He was eager to get inside and check the changes in the Life Book.

One of the pages had gained a new line of text—

Code
[Demon Spirit: Pillar of Heaven]
Can temporarily strengthen the physical body, increase strength, and excels in sumo techniques.

Just this simple record alone left Ming Shu deeply shaken.

Did this world truly have Immortal-Demons?

Not only formidable martial arts, but also sorcery?

Were there even monsters?

It was far too dangerous.

In the past few years inside the Cold Palace, he wondered—was it his own good luck that he hadn't encountered any ghosts, or had Old Zhao shielded him from all danger?

This frail body of his had once tried to learn martial arts from Old Zhao, but it was utterly futile.

Moreover, the master and disciple—now father and son—seemed to be cultivating eunuch-exclusive techniques.

Not suited for him. Truly not suited for him.

By now, it was nearly the Fifth Watch. From beyond the woods came the faint sound of distant hoofbeats, mingled with the occasional whinny of horses.

Without the carriage shell, Ming Shu lay beneath the open night sky, closing his eyes to continue studying the contents of the Life Book.

Old Zhao drove the cart, while Little Zhao clutched several bundles tightly.

Over the bumpy road, they rose and fell. The fast carriage sped eastward.