Early morning, at the entrance to East Mountain Village.
Fang Hong carried a long saber at his waist and a bow on his back as he headed toward the eastern mountains.
The saber and bow had both been left behind by Father Fang.
Though they were somewhat worn from long use,
the icy gleam that flashed across the blade, along with the old bloodstains steeped into the bow, still made no one dare underestimate their power.
Not far away, two old men were preparing to head to the fields for work.
When they saw Fang Hong carrying a saber and bow, both of them were momentarily dazed.
"He really looks like him. Ever since Fang Datou and his wife passed away, this boy has seemed like a different person. He's growing more and more like Fang Datou when he first returned from the army."
One old man with a slightly stooped back looked at Fang Hong, who was approaching with an upright posture, and spoke with a sigh.
"The child has grown up. Who could have expected something like this to suddenly happen to their family? In the blink of an eye, he was left all alone. What a sin."
The somewhat younger old man also let out a sigh.
"Hong lad, are you heading into the mountains?"
The old man who had spoken first called out to Fang Hong.
"That's right, Grandpa Liu Er, Uncle Chen Da. Are you heading to the fields?"
Fang Hong smiled as he answered the two elders.
"Hong lad, the mountains are dangerous. You're still young—why are you in such a hurry to go in?"
The stooped old man asked worriedly.
At those words, Fang Hong revealed a "bitter smile."
"You both know about my family. Even though I sold the fields, the money won't last long. I can't just sit around and eat away at my savings."
"Life has to keep moving forward. A person has to keep living..."
Hearing this, both old men fell silent.
"Hong lad, please accept our condolences..."
Fang Hong smiled as though he had let it go. "It's fine, Grandpa Liu Er, Uncle Chen Da. I'll be going now."
"I need to hurry into the mountains. It'll be even more dangerous if I go too late."
"Alright, then hurry along. Don't waste any time, and remember to be careful."
"Got it."
Watching Fang Hong's retreating figure stride away, the stooped old man, Grandpa Liu Er, sighed.
"Hong lad really has grown up. It hasn't been easy for him..."
Uncle Chen Da raised his head and looked at the sky. "In times like these, whose family has it easy?"
Meanwhile,
as Fang Hong drew ever closer to the mountains, he walked while considering what path he should take in the future.
Combining his Golden Finger with what he had learned about this world from the original owner's memories,
Fang Hong quickly made up his mind.
He had to join a Martial Dao Sect.
Because Father Fang had once served as a soldier, the knowledge and experience he possessed
far surpassed anything those villagers who had spent their entire lives in villages or towns could compare to.
Father Fang had once wanted to save up money and send the original owner to study under a master.
Unfortunately, the original owner had never shown much interest in martial arts.
Moreover, Father Fang had examined the original owner's bones and knew that his natural aptitude was merely ordinary.
In the end, he could only helplessly abandon the notion of seeking a master.
But now, Fang Hong had taken up that plan once more.
Though his Golden Finger's effects were heaven-defying,
it could only cultivate manuals and techniques to their highest realm.
Once they reached the realm of perfection, they could no longer break through any further.
It simply could not do what other novels did with Deep Blue stat points, or say something like, "Deep Blue, let me see your limits."
He could not rely on his Golden Finger to endlessly surpass the limits of his techniques.
Thus, if he wanted to cultivate more profound techniques or manuals,
joining a sect was basically his only option.
Of course, though he had made up his mind to join a sect,
all of that would have to wait until after he avenged the original owner's family.
The vengeance for one's parents was irreconcilable beneath the same sky!
But although he could barely wait to take revenge, he knew that revenge could not be rushed.
Though he had gained a certain amount of strength through his Golden Finger,
he was still far from capable of taking revenge.
First, his current strength was not yet secure enough.
Second, and more importantly, was his mindset.
His mindset had not yet completely changed.
A blood debt had to be repaid in blood!
But killing had never been a simple matter.
In his previous life, he had merely been an ordinary person, a mundane corporate-slave programmer.
To suddenly make him kill someone—even if he possessed a certain degree of strength—
no one could know what kind of unexpected situation might arise when the time came.
And in a life-and-death struggle, even the slightest hesitation or wavering could cost him his life.
So he had to change his mindset.
He had to ensure that, when the time came for him to kill, he would not soften his heart or hesitate in the slightest.
In his previous life, he had greatly liked a saying from Idiot Bar.
You are what you eat. If you want to become someone above others, suffering hardship is not enough—you have to eat people!
He had understood that principle in his previous life.
But because of all sorts of personal reasons, as well as the relatively peaceful environment, he had never been able to steel himself to put it into practice.
But now, things were different.
This was a world where people ate people. The strong could shatter mountains and sever peaks, looking down upon all living beings, while ordinary people's lives were worth no more than ants or blades of grass.
On the day he sold the fields, that Scholar Master had not come in person.
The one who came had merely been his steward.
Yet even a mere steward had looked down on him with such contemptuous eyes and such a disdainful attitude.
As if he were saying, My master has taken a liking to your fields and is willing to buy them. That is your good fortune.
If you still refuse to know what's good for you, your father's fate will be your future.
Especially when he pressed his fingerprint on the document.
The steward's impatient expression, along with his repeated words—"you dog" on one side and "wouldn't it have been better if you'd done this from the start? You even wasted my time" on the other—
all reminded him exactly what kind of world this was.
Father Fang and Mother Fang's example was right before his eyes.
If he still could not harden his heart,
then even if he possessed a Golden Finger and even greater strength, he would never achieve anything significant.
Whether he could even stay alive, or how long he could live, would be a question.
He did not want to wait until death came before regretting it.
What was more, when he had transmigrated here, he had truly experienced the original owner's despair.
Grief that tore him apart, helpless confusion, powerlessness, suffocating humiliation, utter terror, boundless hatred, and countless other emotions.
It had been as though he had fallen into an abyss of despair, without even the slightest room to struggle.
Though they were only the original owner's lingering emotions and memories,
he swore that he would never allow himself to fall into such a situation.
Still less would he allow himself to experience that maddening despair again.
Therefore, he had to become ruthless. He had to become strong!
He had to be ruthless toward himself, and even more ruthless toward his enemies!
Looking at the lush yet towering, vast mountain forest not far ahead, a fierce determination flashed through Fang Hong's eyes.
Kill!
Everything that dared stand in his way would be slaughtered clean!
In my previous life, I was merely an unremarkable ordinary man.
But in this life, in this world where people eat people,
I will carve out a clear road to the heavens with slaughter!
With a saber at his waist, a bow on his back, and a ruthless look on his face, Fang Hong
stepped without the slightest hesitation into that ancient mountain forest, where who knew how many lives had been buried.
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