My Sign-in Life in Douluo

Occasionally, young soldiers from Nanguo would curiously ask their commanders: "Who is that old man?"

The commander would only reply, "He is the hero of our Nanguo. He is the one who said back then, 'As long as he does not die, Nanguo has no worries.'"

Finally, Jiang Siming seemed unable to move the corpses any longer. He sat quietly beside the Luxian Sword, waiting for death to arrive.

"Old sir."

A youthful voice woke Jiang Siming once more. He lifted his eyelids with great effort, revealing eyes that had long since turned murky.

"Old sir, why are you here all alone?" The young man had clearly just joined the army; perhaps it was out of curiosity, or perhaps out of pity.

"I have forgotten," Jiang Siming replied in a raspy, aged voice.

"Old man, why don't you come back to the city with me? It is far too dangerous to be alone here at the border," the young soldier said with concern.

The elderly Jiang Siming was momentarily at a loss. Then, he calmed down and said peacefully, "No, this is my home. Many people are waiting here; I should have come home long ago." Jiang Siming's words left the young soldier feeling bewildered.

The young soldier insisted, but Jiang Siming simply closed his eyes. Helpless, the young soldier turned and walked away in silence.

That night, the enemy army launched a surprise raid on the Nanguo border. The city gates fell, flames engulfed the city, and enemy soldiers were everywhere, burning, killing, and looting as wails filled the air.

A young soldier, covered in blood, stumbled and ran before Jiang Siming.

"General! I know who you are! I beg you to save the people in the city!" The young soldier roared at Jiang Siming. He was the God of War, a man who guarded a city with a single sword. At this moment, the young soldier had pinned all his hopes on the white-haired Jiang Siming.

Jiang Siming seemed not to hear him, remaining seated like a withered tree.

Listening to the sounds of slaughter in the distance, Jiang Siming's mind flickered with memories of his former, high-spirited self—and the brothers he had caused to die due to his own pride and arrogance.

Two lines of murky tears slid quietly from his withered eye corners.

"General! As long as the vanguard general Jiang Siming does not die, our Nanguo will not fall!" The young soldier remained steadfast in his belief.

"Indeed! It is a pity that I am about to die," Jiang Siming muttered, slowly lifting his heavy eyelids and struggling to stand. He looked at the rusted Luxian Sword still standing beside him.

"You should run! After tonight, Jiang Siming will no longer exist. Just help me bury myself in this land," Jiang Siming said, his withered hand gripping the hilt of the Luxian Sword once more. His frail body erupted with a majestic killing intent.

The young soldier's eyes filled with hot tears. Jiang Siming was the faith of the Nanguo soldiers, and now that this faith had returned, it was to sing its final battle song.

Enemy pursuers charged from behind the young soldier.

"I am not a hero. Those who are buried beneath this earth without even a name left behind—they are the true heroes," Jiang Siming's hoarse voice echoed again.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Jiang Siming seemed to hear the roars of the soldiers from that day once more.

A flash of cold light; the sword struck like a dragon.

After that night, everyone knew Jiang Siming was dead, nailed to the city wall. No one dared to collect his body, but one night, Jiang Siming's corpse mysteriously vanished.

When Jiang Siming regained consciousness, he found himself back in the white space.

"Was everything before just an illusion?" Jiang Siming said, his voice suddenly heavy with the weight of ages. Though he possessed a mere 12-year-old body, his mind had lived through an entire lifetime.

Looking at the Luxian Sword in the distance, Jiang Siming smiled faintly. He walked slowly toward it, and this time, he finally reached the Luxian Sword. Drawing it, Jiang Siming couldn't help but shout, "Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Jiang Siming swung the Luxian Sword instinctively, his killing intent growing more intense. Streaks of sword energy tore through the space, and the white void began to shatter.

Jiang Siming abruptly retracted his sword; he had just comprehended a self-created soul skill.

The power of slaughter is not about killing the innocent. It is to kill the invading enemy, to kill the disloyal and unrighteous, to kill the treacherous villains, and to kill the tyrannical kings. To kill all darkness and restore a world of light.

"Great Bright Sword Song."

Too many soldiers sacrificed themselves to protect their homes and country, yet their end was often to be left in the wilderness, nameless and forgotten. They would not retreat, for behind them were their families and their nation.

System Warning: Host is exhibiting jailbreak behavior. Forcing exit from the second stage of the Mirror Space.

"What is happening?" Jiang Siming regained consciousness, finding himself suddenly on the training grounds of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

"Sect Master! Quickly, report to the Sect Master! Jiang Siming has woken up!" A servant nearby hurried to inform Ning Fengzhi.

Ning Fengzhi rushed over. Seeing the profound depth in Jiang Siming's eyes, he felt a trace of surprise, though he did not dwell on it.

"Oh my, you really scared your uncle to death. You haven't eaten or drunk for 30 days; if you hadn't still been breathing, I would have truly thought you were dead," Ning Fengzhi said with a long sigh of relief.

"Uncle Ning, is there anything to eat? I'm starving," Jiang Siming's stomach growled loudly.

"Have the kitchen prepare some food," Ning Fengzhi instructed the servant.

A quarter of an hour later, in the living room of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, the table was filled with various delicacies. Jiang Siming devoured the food like a whirlwind, as if he hadn't eaten in 800 years.

"Siming, slow down. If it's not enough, I'll have the kitchen prepare more," Ning Fengzhi said, finding the scene somewhat amusing.

Jiang Siming's mouth was stuffed full, leaving him no time to respond to Ning Fengzhi.

Half an hour later, Jiang Siming finally finished the battle, his stomach stretched to its limit.

"Siming, you were unconscious for a full month, and the aura on your body grew stronger every day. From the 15th day on, a powerful sword energy erupted from you. Later, it slowly burst into an intense killing intent. Uncle Sword said you were in a state of epiphany, though he wasn't sure of the specifics. Can you tell your uncle what happened?" Ning Fengzhi was truly curious; what exactly had Jiang Siming experienced? There was one more thing Ning Fengzhi didn't mention: Jiang Siming's eyes were incredibly deep, making him difficult to fathom.

"Uncle Ning, that mysterious realm... I'm not entirely sure what happened myself," Jiang Siming said, brushing it off.

Seeing that Jiang Siming was unwilling to speak, Ning Fengzhi did not press him. After all, for a genius like Jiang Siming, the policy of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was to win him over.

Sword Douluo was away on business, so he did not know that Jiang Siming had woken up. Otherwise, he would have surely pestered Jiang Siming; as a master of the sword himself, how could he not understand the importance of an epiphany to the improvement of one's artistic conception? It was just that Jiang Siming's situation was something even he couldn't replicate, let alone explain to others.