Sea of Corpses and Blood

The 37th year of Xuanwu in the Great Zhou Dynasty, winter.

The iron cavalry of the Northern Di swept south, shattering three passes in succession; their hooves trampled the snow of the borderlands, pointing straight at North-Rejecting City.

The blood on the city walls had yet to congeen, yet the corpses beneath them had already piled into mountains.

The cold wind, swirling with gunpowder smoke and an inescapable, thick stench of blood, poured straight into the nostrils of Li Jinshui. He gritted his teeth until they creaked, dragging a corpse that was barely recognizable as human, moving step by stumbling step toward the flatbed cart.

This was the eleventh one he had hauled today.

"Stop dragging your feet, you bastard! If this batch isn't cleared before dark, no one gets to eat!" The overseer's leather whip cracked against the frozen ground, and the shards of snow it kicked up stung Li Jinshui's face.

He didn't make a sound; his arm muscles tensed as he heaved the corpse onto the cart. Seven or eight bodies were already piled there—Zhou Army soldiers and Northern Di barbarian troops, their severed limbs tangled together until it was impossible to tell who was who.

He gasped for air, the white mist of his breath torn apart by the wind the moment it left his lips.

He had been in this godforsaken place for exactly three months.

In his past life, he was a programmer, struck down by a drunk driver on his way home from overtime. When he opened his eyes again, he was a seventeen-year-old orphan in North-Rejecting City, sharing the same name and surname.

The original owner's memories were as shattered as a broken bowl—his parents had died of a plague three years ago, and he had survived on the meager charity of his clan, living in that drafty old shack on the west side of the city. His greatest wish was to save enough silver to study martial arts at the Zhenwei Martial Hall.

In this world where martial arts could pierce the heavens, training was the only hope for someone crawling out of the mud.

But the entrance fee for the martial hall alone was ten taels of silver, and the medicinal diets and weaponry that followed were an bottomless pit that could never be filled. Li Jinshui had emptied his entire household to scrape together two taels; for the rest, he had to trade his life.

Hauling corpses: thirty wen per body.

It was filthy, exhausting, and ominous. But the pay was prompt.

"Thirteen today, three hundred and ninety wen." The accountant didn't even bother to lift his eyelids as he rattled his abacus, tossing the copper coins onto the table with a clatter.

Li Jinshui counted them carefully twice, wrapped them in a rag, and tucked them into the pocket closest to his heart. Even through his cotton-padded jacket, the cold of the copper coins could still pierce his skin.

Added to what he had already saved, he finally had ten taels.

His heart suddenly hammered like a war drum. He turned and headed home, his pace quickening until he was almost running.

Get home, grab the money, sign up!

Passing through the back alley, he specifically bought two meat buns, steaming hot and wrapped in oil paper. Today, he deserved to treat himself.

When he pushed open the creaking wooden door, he froze on the threshold.

Five or six people were sitting in the room. Li Houde, the clan head, sat on the only intact chair, slowly sipping water from a coarse ceramic bowl. Second Uncle and Third Uncle stood on either side like temple guardians. His cousin, Li Jinbao, sat brazenly on the edge of the kang, his brand-new black official uniform eye-catching, a wooden plaque hanging from his waist engraved with the character "Arrest."

"Jinshui is back." Li Houde set down his bowl, his face full of smiles. "We were just waiting for you."

Li Jinshui's heart sank like a stone. His gaze swept across the room—the kang mat had been ripped up, and the hole in the wall where he hid his silver was exposed, gaping and empty.

"Where is my silver?" His throat felt parched.

"What silver of yours?" Li Jinbao crossed his legs, the tips of his boots swaying triumphantly. "That was the clan's silver; Grandfather took it to grease some palms for me. See this? A constable! From now on, our Li family is someone of status in North-Rejecting City!"

A buzzing sound erupted in Li Jinshui's brain, as if something had exploded.

He moved step by step toward the hole in the wall, reaching in to touch only the cold, rough brick.

Ten taels. Three months. Ten taels piled up one corpse at a time.

"That was money I earned." He turned his head, his eyes locked onto Li Houde's face. "After my parents died, the clan gave me this broken shack and never gave me a single grain of rice. That money was earned by hauling the dead!"

"You ungrateful brat!" Second Uncle cursed immediately. "Is that how you speak to the clan head? Jinbao becoming a constable benefits the entire Li clan! As a member of the Li family, isn't it your duty to contribute some silver?"

"Duty?" Li Jinshui laughed, his eyes turning bloodshot. "When my parents died, which of you paid for a thin coffin? When I was starving and digging for wild herbs, which of you gave me half a bowl of swill? Now you want to talk to me about family?"

Li Houde's expression darkened completely. "Jinshui, you are young and ignorant. Only when the family prospers can the individual have a good life. Once Jinbao has a future, he will naturally look after you. In fact, I have already planned a path for you—"

He gestured toward the door.

Two men in military uniforms stepped inside, reeking of soldierly arrogance, their waist sabers slapping against their thighs.

"The North-Rejecting City Defense Force is recruiting laborers; room and board provided, twenty wen a day. I see your build is decent, so I've already signed you up." Li Houde pulled a paper from his robes and slapped it onto the table. "Report to the North City Barracks first thing tomorrow morning."

Li Jinshui snatched the paper.

It wasn't for laborers.

It was the "Death Squad Camp"—commonly known as the cannon fodder camp. They were the first to charge in battle and the last to retreat; for every ten who went in, nine never returned.

"You... sold me?" His voice trembled.

"What do you mean, sold?" Third Uncle interjected. "This is for your own good! Once you're in the Death Squad, at least you'll have a meal to eat. Otherwise, with your pathetic state, you want to practice martial arts? Keep dreaming!"

Li Jinbao walked over and patted his shoulder, his lowered voice filled with smugness: "Brother, don't blame me. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not being born into a better life. Don't worry, when you die, I'll burn paper for you every year."

The two soldiers stepped forward, pinning Li Jinshui like iron pincers.

"Let's go, kid. Once you've signed, you're military property. Deserters—are executed."

Li Jinshui struggled with all his might, but the strength he'd gained from three months of hauling corpses was nothing before real soldiers. He was dragged out the door, and he looked back one last time—

Li Houde was sipping his water again. Li Jinbao was stroking his badge, beaming with delight. Second Uncle and Third Uncle were whispering to each other, laughing until their eyes disappeared.

The wind and snow poured into his collar, biting and cold.

He was thrown onto a broken carriage where seven or eight sallow-faced men were already huddled, their eyes like those of dead fish. The carriage jolted toward the north of the city, and the sparse lights of North-Rejecting City grew smaller and smaller.

In the darkness, Li Jinshui curled up in the corner, his fingernails digging deep into his palms.

Hatred.

An unprecedented sense of hatred sprouted from the depths of his heart like poisonous ivy, winding around him until he could barely breathe.

The carriage suddenly jolted violently, the cabin slamming hard against a rock, and Li Jinshui's head cracked against the floorboards with a thud. The moment the sharp pain exploded, a cold, emotionless mechanical voice rang out in the depths of his mind:

[Strong obsession for survival detected... Enemy-Slaying System binding...]

[Host will gain Killing Points by slaying enemies.]

Li Jinshui froze, and then all the blood in his body rushed to his head.

A golden finger... it had arrived!

Immediately after, a translucent personal information panel unfolded before his eyes:

[Name: Li Jinshui]

[Realm: Ordinary Person]

[Cultivation Method: None]

[Points: 0]

The carriage drove into a grim and heavily guarded encampment.

The lanterns hanging on the gate swayed in the wind, their dim yellow light illuminating three pitch-black characters on the plaque:

Death Squad Camp.

On both sides of the camp gate stood two rows of wooden stakes. A corpse was nailed to each stake, frozen into stiff ice sculptures with hideous expressions.

The soldier driving the carriage kicked the cabin. "Get out! We're here!"

Li Jinshui jumped off the carriage, and the wind and snow slammed into his face.

He raised his head, looking toward the pitch-black tents deep within the camp, then looked back at the direction where North-Rejecting City had vanished.

The system interface floated eerily before his eyes, emitting a faint glow.

"Li Houde... Li Jinbao..."

He whispered these two names, his teeth grinding together with a clatter.

"Wait for my return."

The wind and snow grew more ferocious, as if they intended to swallow the entire world.