Talent Advancement

The next day, the sun was already high.

After breakfast, Qin Meng wandered out empty-handed. Instead of heading straight for the mountains as usual, he strolled slowly around Luming Fort.

He activated Wild Instinct to its fullest.

Within thirty paces, every rustle and stir came into sharp focus—the splash of a woman rinsing rice, the laughter of children chasing one another, the faint scuffling of a mouse crawling along a wall. They trembled like strands of a fine spiderweb, gathering in his mind.

He was looking for Qin Lai, and the few lackeys who followed him.

He had never forgotten that Song Zhong had led men into the mountains to kill him. Without the system, he would have died, and Qiu Yue's fate would have been even more tragic.

After several quiet days, the repairs to his home were complete. His Martial Skill had advanced, and his strength had leapt forward. It was time to settle the score.

Qin Lai had to die, and so did the lackeys who had acted as his accomplices. Only after sending them to join Song Zhong and the others would Luming Fort be at peace.

As he walked, he took note of the fort's layout, fixing the winding alleys and scattered houses in his mind. His ears stayed perked, catching scraps of passersby's conversations.

By noon, he had made a full circuit of the fort.

Unfortunately.

From the idle chatter of a few hunters, he learned that Qin Lai and his elder brother, Qin Wang, had left the fort early that morning with lavish gifts, apparently to visit some influential figure.

A few of the lackeys had either gone with them or headed to town. There wasn't a single person he could strike at.

As he walked along the western side of the fort, a furious string of curses exploded from a nearby courtyard:

"Cut hard, and cut true! What, haven't you eaten?"

"You're killing me! Hurry and open the throat so it doesn't choke on its own blood. This whole half of the carcass will stink otherwise. Damn it, how did I end up teaching a bunch of idiots like you?"

Qin Meng stopped. A line of small text appeared out of nowhere before his eyes:

[Life Source +0.2%, +0.18%...]

He took a couple of quick steps, and the number dropped to +0.15%. When he neared the courtyard gate, it rose again to +0.19%. The closer he got to the courtyard, the faster it climbed.

Understanding dawned on Qin Meng. Life Source was a form of energy, and he could passively collect it from a range of about twenty paces. At that moment, a life was ebbing away inside the courtyard.

Looking through the gate, he saw that it was the home of Cao Biao, Luming Fort's butcher.

Cao Biao was renowned among the frontier forts for his skill at slaughtering pigs. His family was well-off, but his penny-pinching had earned him the nickname "Miser."

The burly man, his face covered in rolls of flesh, had one arm in a sling. He was scolding several young men: his sons Cao Hu and Cao Bao, along with two apprentices.

On the ground lay a hefty black-bristled pig, tightly bound. Blood gushed from its neck as its body jerked violently. The cut had clearly missed its mark.

Several more black pigs waited in the pen to be slaughtered.

Qin Meng's eyes lit up. What a stroke of luck—had a whole batch of Life Source just landed in his lap?

Cao Biao spotted him in the courtyard and instinctively furrowed his brow. Qin Meng's reputation in the fort was terrible—he drank, gambled, beat his wife, and lazed around all day.

"Mengzi?" Cao Biao asked gruffly, his tone distant. "You're better now?"

He'd heard about the changes in Qin Meng, but hadn't seen them for himself, so he was still doubtful.

"Sorry for the trouble, Uncle Cao. I'm better." Qin Meng answered, but his gaze never left the pigs. "Uncle Cao, are you slaughtering all of these today?"

"Obviously," Cao Biao grumbled. "They have to be delivered to the city's tavern tomorrow morning. Agh, the drink's brought me nothing but trouble. I fell and hurt my arm at the worst possible time, and these useless brats..."

He was clearly overwhelmed.

"I'll help you slaughter them." Qin Meng stepped into the courtyard.

"You?" Cao Biao froze and looked him up and down, his eyes full of disbelief.

Slaughtering a black-bristled pig weighing five or six hundred pounds took strength, but it also required skill. The depth and angle of the cut, the timing of the bleeding—miss by a hair, and the whole carcass could be ruined.

Qin Meng? A notorious good-for-nothing and drunkard? Give me a break.

Cao Hu, Cao Bao, and the two apprentices looked over as well, their faces just as doubtful.

"I've helped my father butcher plenty of big game. I know a little." Qin Meng's voice was calm, but carried an inexplicable certainty. "I'm strong enough to hold one down."

Cao Biao glanced at the pig still twitching on the ground and considered for a moment. "If you can do it properly, I'll pay you three qian per pig. You can take the head and offal too! But let me make this clear—if you botch the job..."

"If the meat gets choked with blood, I'll pay for it." Qin Meng spoke with absolute conviction.

His confidence came from the fragments of memories he'd absorbed. The experience and techniques for processing large game were crystal clear, as if he'd practiced them a thousand times.

He said no more, walked to the chopping block, and picked up a sharp butcher's knife. Then he headed for the pigpen and picked out a black-bristled pig at a glance.

He untied it, grabbed its ear and tail, and heaved. In just a few clean, decisive movements, he dragged the struggling several-hundred-pound pig out of the pen and over to the trestle.

Just as the beast opened its mouth to squeal, Qin Meng's left knee pinned its neck with pinpoint accuracy.

The knife flashed in his right hand, too fast for the eye to follow.

Its edge sank precisely into the vital point in the throat, piercing straight through to the heart. The pig's body convulsed, then quickly weakened. Thick blood streamed smoothly into the basin with hardly a drop splashed aside.

The whole thing took no more than three or five breaths.

Fast, accurate, ruthless—not a single wasted movement. Cao Hu, Cao Bao, and the others stared in stunned silence.

Cao Biao narrowed his eyes, the rolls of flesh on his face twitching. That technique, that steady hand—it would take years of hard practice and the slaughter of at least a hundred beasts to achieve.

Qin Meng, however, was absorbed in something else.

The instant the blade sank in, a familiar warmth quietly flowed through it and into his body.

[Life Source +2.5%]

[Plundered the Black-Bristled Pig's bloodline essence. Thick Skin and Fleshy growth progress +13%]

Qin Meng's spirits soared. He focused and "checked" the panel, and sure enough, it had changed:

The talent Thick Skin and Fleshy had advanced from Low tier (5% → 18%).

"Good. Turns out pig slaughtering has a bright future."

Qin Meng was secretly delighted, as if he'd found a way to make his talent grow quickly.

"Impressive, kid!" Cao Biao finally snapped out of it and praised him loudly. "That bleeding cut of yours—there's no way you learn it without years of hard work!"

His face broke into a warm smile. "All right, Mengzi, keep it up like that. You bunch of idiots, what are you standing around for? Give Mengzi a hand."

Cao Biao turned back to Qin Meng. "Mengzi, have you eaten? If not, grab a bite here. It's almost noon."

For the next hour or so, pig squeals rose and fell, each one short-lived.

Qin Meng's movements grew smoother and smoother, as if some kind of muscle memory were awakening.

Dragging the pig, pinning its neck, making the cut, draining the blood—every step was clean and decisive. Cao Biao and his sons watched in amazement.

He gathered more and more Life Source.

The growth of the Thick Skin and Fleshy talent surged: [Low tier (18%)] → (35%) → (52%) → (75%).

The gain from each pig gradually diminished, but the accumulated increase was substantial. Qin Meng could feel every wave of warmth making subtle, sustained changes to his skin, flesh, and fascia—tighter and tougher.

When it was time for the last pig, Qin Meng sensed something unusual.

It was the skinniest one in the pen, cowering in a corner. The others had squealed and struggled blindly as they were dragged away, but this one had buried its head low. A soft whimper came from its throat, carrying a hint of fear.

Qin Meng felt a stir in his heart, but his hands never stopped.

He dragged it out, subdued it, and pinned its neck as skillfully as before. The instant the blade was about to sink into its throat, the pig suddenly thrashed, its strength astonishing!

Qin Meng drove down with his left knee and forced it still. His blade flashed and struck true.

A sudden change came over him!

The knife vibrated faintly, as if it had instantly absorbed some kind of energy unlike the rest.

A surge of warmth several times stronger than before roared into his body.

[Life Source +10%]

[Stripped the Black-Bristled Pig's bloodline essence. The talent Thick Skin and Fleshy advanced to Mid tier]

Huh? Qin Meng finished draining the blood without changing his expression, but his thoughts churned. Could this seemingly skinny pig have been a mutated beast with an awakened bloodline?

Warmth surged through his limbs, sinking into his flesh and merging with his fascia. His skin grew more resilient, while his muscle fibers rearranged and strengthened on a level invisible to the naked eye. Waves of tingling itch swept through his body.

[Talent: Thick Skin and Fleshy—Mid tier (2%)]

With the talent advanced, a new description appeared: skin like bronze armor, sinews tough as cables, flesh bound together like tempered steel. Blunt weapons barely registered; sharp blades lost their force. His sinews and bones formed "flesh armor" that absorbed impacts and resisted falls. Ordinary swords and knives could hardly harm him.

After lunch at the Cao home, Qin Meng collected his pay and headed home carrying the pig's head and offal. Xiao Xue scampered out of the house and yipped happily a few times.

Shen Qiuyue paused at the sight. "Mengzi, what's all this...?"

"Uncle Cao gave it to me." Qin Meng handed it to her. "Get it ready. We'll stew it for dinner."

"All right."

Qin Meng went inside and dug out a few old clothes, wrapping them in a bundle of gray cloth.

"I might be back late today." He quickly tied the bundle.

"Bar the door. Don't open it for anyone."

Shen Qiuyue seemed to sense something. She pressed her lips together and nodded. "...Mengzi, be careful."

With the bundle on his back and a knife in hand, Qin Meng left the house, pretending to go hunting in the mountains outside the fort. In truth, he went to a deserted ravine to change clothes. As he activated his talent, Environmental Integration, his height and features began to change...

At the request of many readers, we are now offering ad-free browsing for VIP members.

Click to view.