Who Could Stand Against a Single Slash?

Lin Feng silently thought: Repair.

In an instant, the system repaired the battle saber.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, a searing heat spread through his palm. Dark golden patterns extended from the hilt to the blade, and Spirit Patterns lit up one after another.

The whole process took less than a second.

The burly man still had "You know what's good for you" on his lips when Lin Feng had already drawn his blade and struck.

There was no wasted movement, just the simplest downward slash.

The burly man wasn't slow to react. He had drawn his blade halfway from his waist and raised it in front of himself.

Blade met blade.

Lin Feng's sword cut through as smooth as silk, meeting no resistance.

It cleaved through the man behind it, from his left shoulder to his right hip, in one diagonal line.

The burly man split in two and fell onto the steps, blood splattering across the stone.

From drawing the blade to sheathing it, less than half a second had passed.

The noisy crowd at Pit Bottom Plaza fell silent for a small patch around them.

A few Martial Artists passing nearby glanced over, then quickly looked away and hurried on, pretending they hadn't seen a thing.

This was the Black Market. Someone dying was about the same as a dog dying.

Wang Tie stood with his mouth hanging open, unable to get a single word out.

He'd just been saying, "Seven hundred and eighty thousand for a junk sword," and now that junk sword had cut both a man and his weapon in half?

Damn, no wonder it was A-Rank.

The other two reacted much faster.

The lanky man's legs gave way for half a beat. Then he spun around and bolted into a side alley like a madman.

The short, fat one was even more straightforward. He didn't even bother turning around, just backed away at a run and knocked over a roadside vendor's stall.

Lin Feng glanced at the lanky man and shouted to Wang Tie, "The short one's yours."

As soon as he'd spoken, he was already dashing after the other man.

The lanky man ran for his life, but a Rank 1 Martial Artist's speed was about the same as walking to Lin Feng.

Lin Feng caught up in three steps.

Mountain Splitter swept sideways. The lanky man was still looking ahead as he ran, but a half-foot-long gash had already opened at the back of his neck.

He pitched forward and slid two meters across the ground. His fingers clawed at the cracks between the paving stones, twitched twice, then went still.

[Steel of the Blade: 86/500]

Lin Feng flicked the blood from his blade and turned to look at Wang Tie.

Wang Tie might have been a chatterbox, but he didn't hesitate when it came to a fight. The short, fat man was only Martial Disciple Rank 9 to begin with. He tripped over the toppled stall, and as soon as he got back up, Wang Tie drove his blade into the man's lower back.

The fat man screamed and tried to struggle, but Wang Tie twisted his blade, then slashed sideways. The man went still.

All told, less than ten seconds had passed, and all three men were down.

Wang Tie pulled his blade from the fat man and wiped off the blood. He glanced back at the burly man split in two on the steps, then at the long sword in Lin Feng's hand, its dark golden patterns shimmering. He swallowed.

"Wasn't that sword of yours broken?"

Lin Feng put Mountain Splitter back in the wooden crate and casually closed the lid.

"It's fixed."

"When did you fix it?"

"Just now."

Wang Tie's mind went around in circles without making sense of it. What did "just now" mean? Hadn't Lin Feng been talking to the burly man just then?

But Lin Feng had already crouched down and started searching the burly man's belongings.

There was no such thing as calling the authorities in the Black Market. When someone died, their belongings went to whoever won.

That was the rule, and the only rule this place had.

The burly man had quite a few things on him.

A Storage Bag held three E-Rank Magic Cores, two bottles of unidentified Elixirs, and cash cards with more than seventy thousand yuan.

The man had probably been running this kind of roadside shakedown in the Black Market for a while. He'd raked in quite a lot.

The lanky man had less: one E-Rank Magic Core and twenty thousand yuan in cash.

The short, fat man was the poorest. He had only eight thousand yuan and a dagger in his pocket, and even the dagger was a piece of junk.

Lin Feng piled the three men's belongings together and counted them.

"Four E-Rank Magic Cores, two bottles of unidentified medicine, a little over a hundred thousand in cash, and some odds and ends."

Wang Tie rubbed his hands beside him, excited and nervous. His head kept swiveling as he looked around, afraid someone else might come looking for trouble.

"How do we split this?"

"Three ways."

"Three ways?" Wang Tie paused. "Aren't there only two of us?"

"Li Ming stayed at the Base Camp to watch our things. He gets a share."

Wang Tie let out an "Oh," thought about it, then nodded.

"Fair enough. That kid did help."

Lin Feng split the Magic Cores and cash into three piles, making them as even as he could.

The two bottles of Elixirs were harder to divide, so they kept them for now. They'd find someone to identify them later.

Lin Feng wrapped up the three shares in cloth, tucked Li Ming's share beneath the crate, pocketed his own, and handed the rest to Wang Tie.

Wang Tie took it and weighed it in his hand, chuckling twice. Then he remembered something and stopped smiling.

"Brother Lin, that slash of yours was terrifying."

"Mm."

"You cut down a Rank 3 Martial Artist in one blow, weapon and all. That was a D-Rank blade, too."

Lin Feng picked up the crate and headed up the steps.

"Let's go back to the Base Camp."

Wang Tie hurried after him, still talking.

"What level are you, exactly? Weren't you just Rank 2 before? How can a Rank 2 cut through a Rank 3 in one blow? Or was your sword just that powerful?"

Lin Feng didn't answer.

To be honest, even he'd been a little surprised by that slash.

After Mountain Splitter was repaired, the feeling of channeling his blood and energy into it was completely different. The blade seemed to come alive, magnifying the force he poured into it by at least thirty percent. Wherever its edge passed, it tore a gap in the air itself.

The power of a C-Rank weapon really couldn't compare to a D-Rank one.

Combined with the strength of his talent, he was already far stronger than other Martial Artists of the same rank.

But he couldn't tell Wang Tie any of that.

The two climbed the steps, passed through three hidden doors, and returned to the surface.

After walking for about twenty minutes, they spotted the military camp's fence in the distance.

Li Ming was squatting by the camp entrance, chewing on a strip of dried meat he'd gotten from who knew where. When he saw them return, he jumped up and hurried over.

"You're finally back! I thought someone had robbed you."

"Almost." Wang Tie rolled his eyes. "Three idiots tried to block our way. Brother Lin cut one in half with a single slash."

"One slash?" Li Ming's eyes widened.

"One slash. Man and weapon, both split in two." Wang Tie demonstrated. "Just like that—whoosh!"

Li Ming looked at Lin Feng, then at the wooden crate tucked under his arm.

Lin Feng opened the crate and handed him his share.

"This is yours."

Li Ming looked down at the Magic Cores, cash, and odds and ends.

"I get a share too?"

"You watched our things for us. You deserve your cut."

Li Ming opened his mouth. His hand trembled a little as he took the things.

He'd been stuck in the Recruit Camp for nearly two months. Forget getting a cut—he barely ever got the chance to go on a mission. Every month, all he got was his meager salary.

"Brother Lin, you're a real one."

"Don't call me Brother Lin. Just call me Lin Feng."

"Brother Lin!"

Lin Feng couldn't be bothered correcting him again.

The three returned to the Barracks and went to their separate quarters.

Lin Feng took Mountain Splitter out of the crate and propped it beside his bed, then inspected the blade again.

Its dark golden Spirit Patterns shimmered. The chip that had once marred the blade was completely gone after the repair, leaving the edge smooth and sharp.

The scabbard, on the other hand, was still in bad shape.

He'd have to find time to get a new one.

As he examined the blade, someone knocked on the Barracks door.

Three knocks, unhurried and steady.

Wang Tie poked his head up from his bed. "Who is it?"

An unfamiliar voice came from outside.

"Excuse me, is Lin Feng here? Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao would like you to come see him."

Wang Tie and Li Ming exchanged a glance.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao?

He was the second-highest-ranking officer in the entire garrison, someone they might not even see at a meeting.

A new recruit who'd been at the camp for less than a week—and Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao had sent someone personally to summon him?

Li Ming muttered under his breath, "Did you get into trouble? Did someone report you for killing people in the Black Market?"

Wang Tie shook his head. "The Black Market doesn't have that kind of rule. If you die, you die."

Lin Feng put Mountain Splitter beneath his pillow, stood up, and brushed the dust off his clothes.

"I'm here. I'll go with you."

A middle-aged man in uniform stood outside, a lieutenant's insignia pinned to his shoulder. He gave Lin Feng a blank look, then turned and led the way.

They crossed the camp and walked for five or six minutes before reaching a separate tent.

The lieutenant stopped at the entrance.

"Go on in. The deputy battalion commander is waiting."

Lin Feng pushed open the door and entered.

The room was small, with a table and two chairs. A map of the Northern Territory hung on the wall.

A man in his forties sat behind the table. He had a square face and a prominent brow, and his uniform bore the two bars and three stars of a colonel.

A file lay beside him. On the open page was a photograph.

Lin Feng's photograph.

"Sit."

Lin Feng pulled out a chair and sat down.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao closed the file, folded his hands on the table, and gave Lin Feng two thorough once-overs.

"Lin Feng, eighteen years old, Rank 2 Martial Artist. You arrived in the Northern Territory three days ago and were assigned to the Seventh Patrol Squad."

He paused.

"On your first day, you killed six F-Class Exotic Beasts by yourself. After that, you investigated the F-Class Rift that had undergone a sudden change..."

He paused again.

"Yesterday, you executed the corrupt official, Zhao Tianxiong."

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao raised his head and stared at Lin Feng.

Lin Feng said nothing.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao pulled another file from beneath the table and slid it toward Lin Feng.

Lin Feng glanced down at the cover.

Four large characters.

D-Rank Rift.