Night fell completely.

Qin Meng stood in the courtyard, watching Li Tiezhu's family disappear around the corner. He turned and went back inside. Shen Qiuyue was mending old clothes beneath the lamplight.

A basket lined with soft cloth sat in the corner. The little fox was curled up inside, fast asleep.

"Qin Meng." Shen Qiuyue looked up. "Uncle Tiezhu, he..."

"Don't worry. Uncle's a reasonable man." Qin Meng sat down beside the kang and took her hand. "The blade's been fixed, so that's one less thing to worry about."

Shen Qiuyue's hand was cold.

The smooth cuts in Qin Meng's lapel had told her enough. When she'd pressed him for answers last night, he hadn't hidden the fact that Song Zhong had followed him.

Silence spread through the glow of the oil lamp.

"Qin Lai won't let this go, will he?" Her voice was so soft it seemed afraid to disturb something.

Qin Meng looked out at the thick darkness beyond the window.

Wild Instinct spread around him like a spiderweb. Within ten zhang, he could clearly pick out the chirping of insects, the sigh of the wind, and the barking of dogs in a distant alley.

"He won't let it go." Qin Meng's voice was calm. "But he won't come tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because he's smarter than Song Zhong." A trace of disappointment crossed Qin Meng's face. "If he makes a move now, everyone in the fortress will be watching him."

The lamplight flickered in his eyes. "He'll wait for this to blow over, wait for an 'accident' to happen. Or... he'll use someone else's hand."

Shen Qiuyue's hand trembled faintly.

Qin Meng clasped it tighter, his palm warm and rough. "Qiu Yue, this is the Northern Frontier. If you want a good life, your own strength is crucial."

"From now on, you'll start practicing martial arts too."

"Huh? I... I..." Shen Qiuyue sounded unsure of herself.

"That's right. You." Qin Meng's voice was steady. "You're still young, and you're clever. Once you're stronger, I'll feel better when I have to go out."

Shen Qiuyue looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. I'll listen to you."

Qin Meng stood in the middle of the courtyard, his shadow stretching long beneath the moonlight.

He had snapped the Hunting Bow with his brute strength earlier that day.

Li Tiezhu had taken the Ghost-Head Blade and Ring-pommel Saber back to be reforged.

He closed his eyes, and memories surged through him like a tide—the memories of another world, another body, and movements repeated thousands of times on the battlefield.

Black Dragon Eighteen Hands.

A superior-grade Profound-rank martial skill. According to the system, it was something branded into his soul in his "previous life."

He hadn't deliberately practiced it before. He'd wanted to raise his proficiency in saber techniques and archery first, and gain the system's boosts.

But this martial skill focused on unarmed combat. He needed to pick it up again.

Qin Meng slowly settled into the opening stance—Black Dragon Emerges from Cave.

His knees bent slightly, his weight sank, and his arms spread like wings.

Then he moved. Without warning, he shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bow, covering three meters in an instant. His fist tore through the air with a sharp whistle!

The air split beneath his blow.

Shen Qiuyue peered out from the kitchen, still holding the wooden spoon she'd been stirring with. She was making Snake Blood Soup, while a deer heart simmered in plain water in another pot.

She watched the figure in the courtyard dart about like the wind, fists and feet whipping up gusts. His moves were vicious and direct, every strike aimed at a vital point...

It wasn't a performance. It was pure killing technique.

She'd seen the fortress militia drill and watched martial artists spar, but she'd never seen anything like this—no pointless flourishes, every movement meant to close the distance, every strike meant to kill.

Qin Meng's figure grew faster and faster beneath the moonlight.

In his mind, the blurred memories gradually sharpened: shouts on the training ground, an opponent's screams, the smell of sweat mixed with blood...

It was a forbidden art forged by the Armed Police Corps from the strengths of countless schools—a bare-handed killing technique that could let one man take on ten.

In this life, performed with his "Born Divine Valor" body—

Its power was even greater.

Bang! His fist slammed into the old locust tree in the courtyard. The bark burst apart, and splinters flew.

On the panel, the proficiency for [Black Dragon Eighteen Hands—Beginner] began to climb rapidly.

He kept going.

A second round, then a third...

"Knock, knock." Someone rapped on the courtyard gate.

Qin Meng came to a stop, exhaled a plume of white breath, and hurried over to open it.

Li Tiezhu stood outside, holding a Ring-pommel Saber. When he saw Qin Meng, he offered it to him. "Qin Meng, the blade you wanted. Made from the finest refined iron."

Qin Meng took it. The blade gleamed coldly, and the workmanship was indeed excellent. He'd traded deer meat for it with Li Tiezhu over dinner.

"And this, too." Li Tiezhu took another long blade off his back.

Qin Meng accepted it, and his hand sank under the weight.

Heavy.

In the moonlight, it was a black Zhanma Dao, five chi and six cun long, with a two-handed grip and a broad, slightly curved blade. Most unusual of all, its edge was sharp, yet it reflected no light, as if it could swallow every ray.

"This is..." Qin Meng ran his hand along the blade. It felt cold to the touch, and a faint resonance seemed to pass through his palm.

"It's yours." Li Tiezhu's expression was solemn. "When my father went home to look for materials, he remembered—your older brother, Qin Lie, left this blade with him for repairs. Later, your brother went beyond the pass on a mission...and never came back."

He paused. "My father said you've turned your life around. You know how to earn money and support your family now, so this blade should go back to its rightful owner. It ought to help you when you hunt."

Qin Meng tightened his grip on the hilt.

A strange sense of familiarity rose in him. This blade was no ordinary weapon. It seemed his cheap older brother, Qin Lie, really hadn't been an ordinary man.

"Thank Uncle Tiezhu for me," Qin Meng said.

"No need. I'm heading back." Li Tiezhu waved a hand and disappeared into the night.

Qin Meng shut the gate and examined the Zhanma Dao by moonlight. The blade had no ornamentation at all, just pure black, and it was astonishingly heavy.

Yet it felt strangely balanced in his hand.

He swung it one-handed. Its low whoosh seemed capable of cleaving the air.

What a fine blade. He leaned both swords against the wall and went back to practicing Black Dragon Eighteen Hands. He focused even more intently. His figure moved like a specter, and the sound of the wind shifted from a whistle to a hum, as if a black dragon truly writhed through the night.

When his proficiency crossed a certain threshold, several lines of text appeared before his eyes.

[Black Dragon Eighteen Hands—Dengtang (1/200)]

[Effects: Killing Intent Suppression, Weakness Detection]

Weakness Detection: Slightly improves perception of vital points in living beings (throat, temples, kidneys, backs of the knees, and so on). Attacks against weak points gain a 30% boost.

Qin Meng stopped moving, feeling the profound knowledge flow into his mind.

—How to suppress his killing intent, how to conceal his movements, how to strike without alerting an opponent beforehand...

And Weakness Detection. He looked at the old locust tree in the courtyard, and instinct told him that if he struck a particular pattern in its bark, his destructive power would increase by fifteen percent.

The throat, temples, kidneys, backs of the knees... His perception of vital points in living beings had improved.

It wasn't just knowledge. It was real "perception"—just as Wild Instinct let him sense changes around him, he could now "see" weaknesses.

He continued practicing, again and again...

Hunger gnawed at him. Qin Meng went into the kitchen, where Shen Qiuyue was pouring the simmered python blood into a clay pot.

"Drink it while it's hot." She handed him a bowl.

Qin Meng took it and drained it in one go. The blood was faintly sweet, with a hint of honey. Once it reached his stomach, a warm current surged through his limbs and bones.

He ate half a deer heart, then swallowed the snake gall with the remaining half-pot of python blood.

Shen Qiuyue drank a small bowl of Snake Blood Soup too, and color soon returned to her cheeks.

"Come on." Qin Meng led her into the courtyard. "Starting today, I'll teach you."

He didn't teach her any complicated moves, only simple squats and push-ups. He demonstrated each one himself, correcting her posture.

Shen Qiuyue learned earnestly. Sweat soon dampened her temples, but she gritted her teeth and repeated each exercise over and over.

Qin Meng watched her, his heart stirring.

This woman was gentle on the outside but strong within, with a streak of tenacity down to her bones.

Once she'd learned a set of exercises, Qin Meng returned to practicing Black Dragon Eighteen Hands. The warmth in his stomach flowed without end. The deer meat, snake gall, and python blood... these foods rich in blood and vital energy were now turning into fuel for his training.

He didn't know fatigue.

His eyes gradually grew clear in the night, and his vision sharpened more and more. He could see more than just clearly: he could even make out the heat radiating from Shen Qiuyue and "see" the shape of the residual warmth from the kitchen fire.

Night vision. Thermal vision.

These were additional effects of his eyes' transformation.

[Black Dragon Eighteen Hands—Dengtang (136/200)]

Late into the night, Qin Meng finally stopped. White mist curled through the moonlight with every breath. His body had reached its limit, but his mind was exceptionally clear.

Tomorrow, with one more push, he'd reach "Proficient."

He looked at Shen Qiuyue. She'd finished her squats and jog, but she was still doing push-ups, her arms trembling. She lowered herself, then pushed back up again.

"That's enough." Qin Meng went over and helped her to her feet.

Shen Qiuyue leaned against him, her clothes damp with sweat and her breathing ragged, but her eyes shone brightly.

After washing up, the two went into the inner room, lay down, and fell asleep in each other's arms.