Breakthrough! First Realm Ninth Layer Peak!

Chapter 5: Breakthrough! First Realm Ninth Layer Peak! He stood amid a heap of Mutated Beast corpses, propping himself up with one hand on the long spear nearly soaked through with blood.

Wounds covered his entire body, some deep enough to expose bone. Blood dripped from the hem of his clothes, pooling into a small puddle at his feet. Yet his back remained ramrod straight, like the spear in his hand.

He slowly turned his head. His blood-smeared face was expressionless; only his eyes shone with startling brilliance and bone-deep coldness as they swept across the battlefield.

Wherever his gaze passed, whether exhausted Death Squad members or ordinary Guard Army soldiers who had come to reinforce them, all involuntarily held their breath and subconsciously retreated half a step, clearing a path for him.

It was the most instinctive awe toward pure killing intent, toward a death-defying madman.

Lin Ming stepped forward, treading through sticky blood and shattered flesh and bone as he walked, one step at a time, back toward the passage beneath the barricade. His footsteps were light, but in the deathly silent battlefield, each one rang out distinctly, as though stepping directly upon people's hearts.

"Madman... This guy really is a madman who doesn't care about dying..."

A burly man with a fresh scar on his face spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and muttered under his breath.

"Damn it, compared to this kid, could what we did before even be called fighting? That was child's play!"

At some point, the nickname "Madman Lin" had spread throughout Blade Camp, where the death rate was terrifyingly high.

At first, it had carried mockery and incomprehension. Later, it became amazement. Later still, it turned into a kind of symbol—perhaps even a direction that a small number of people instinctively followed.

Following Madman Lin meant charging at the very front, into the greatest danger. Yet for some reason, his ruthless killing intent and precise, efficient slaughter could tear open the beast horde, creating brief space to catch their breath and strike back.

Three days passed in a flash!

Inside the passage, beneath dim lighting, the survivors silently tended to their wounds and distributed what meager supplies remained. No one spoke. Only suppressed groans and heavy breathing filled the air.

Lin Ming found a corner and sat down against the cold metal wall.

First, he took hemostatic powder and bandages from a damaged first-aid kit at his waist, then expressionlessly gave several of his deeper wounds simple treatment. His movements were so practiced that they made one's heart ache.

Only after finishing did he pick up a relatively clean rag and begin wiping down his spear. The bloodstains on its shaft had already congealed into dark-red scabs.

He cleaned it carefully and slowly, from spearhead to grip, not missing a single inch. It was as if it were not a weapon of murder, but a companion that needed tender care.

Occasionally, people around him stole glances his way, their eyes filled with curiosity, scrutiny, fear, and a trace of gratitude. But they quickly looked away. No one dared approach "Madman Lin" lightly.

Lin Ming ignored the looks around him. His mind had already sunk into his consciousness.

[Current Kill Points: 5015.]

Five thousand and fifteen points!

Three days, eight battles, walking the edge between life and death—the number had been bought with pain and blood.

Without the slightest hesitation, Lin Ming focused his thoughts on the [Martial Arts Realm] section.

"System, raise my Martial Arts Realm."

[Command confirmed. Detected that host's 'First Realm · Iron Bone (Seventh Rank Peak)' can be raised to 'First Realm · Iron Bone (Ninth Rank Peak)'. Kill Points required: 3000. Confirm?]

"Confirm."

[3000 Kill Points consumed. Beginning simulated cultivation infusion!]

[Ding. You cultivated diligently... Your Martial Arts Realm has broken through to First Realm Ninth Layer Peak!]

When everything settled, Lin Ming slowly opened his eyes.

A sharp gleam flashed through them, seeming almost tangible as it briefly lit up the dim passage. He gently exhaled, and a condensed stream of white vapor shot forth like an arrow, striking the opposite wall with a soft pfft and leaving behind a faint white mark.

He clenched his fist, and his muscles and bones rang in unison, as though he had grasped an explosive force. With a light squeeze, the rag in his hand, which he had used to wipe the spear, was shaken into fragments by invisible force!

First Realm, Iron Bone Realm, Ninth Rank Peak!

Every bone in his body had been tempered to completion, hard as refined iron, with strength penetrating to the marrow! A casual swing of one arm carried at least several thousand jin of force! His blood and vitality surged thick and mighty, several times greater than before!

[Remaining Kill Points: 2015.]

More than two thousand points remained.

Lin Ming's gaze shifted from his Martial Arts Realm to the [Martial Skills] section.

[Martial Skills: Basic Spear Art (Microscopic Control), Ironstep Armor (Proficient), Mountain-Splitting Palm (Beginner)]

In just three days, his Basic Spear Art had actually broken through to Microscopic Control. That counted as a pleasant surprise.

But these martial skills were all too basic. If he wanted to grow stronger and kill more efficiently, he still needed better martial skills.

Martial Arts Realm was the foundation, but good martial skills could even make fighting across ranks easy!

Blade Camp's meals were actually not much to speak of.

Leaning back in the corner, Lin Ming stuffed the last compressed biscuit into his mouth and chewed mechanically.

"Kid Lin! What are you spacing out for? You're not even enthusiastic about eating!"

A hoarse voice filled with obvious goodwill rang out.

Lin Ming looked up. It was scar-faced Old Wang, Wang Fugui.

His left leg was wrapped in thick bandages stained through with blood. Using an alloy pipe picked up from who knew where as a crutch, he limped over, followed by three men of similar age, likewise weathered and scarred from head to toe.

The four of them formed a small group within the Death Squad. Old Wang was at First Realm Eighth Rank, while the other three were all Seventh Rank.

They were all around forty. Their blood and vitality had already passed their peak and begun to decline.

None of them were heinous criminals serving heavy sentences. In Old Wang's private words, they had all "offended people they shouldn't have offended and were 'arranged' to come here and die."

Over the past three days, Lin Ming's death-defying madness, along with the spear strike that had saved Old Wang at a critical moment, had earned the young "Madman Lin" their recognition and a measure of protective goodwill.

"Brother Wang."

Lin Ming nodded in greeting.

He was not particularly warm toward Old Wang, but he remembered the man's deliberate or casual care over the past few days, as well as the times he had covered for him on the battlefield.

In a place like this hell, even a trace of kindness without malice seemed especially precious.

"Here, I saved this for you."

A bearded man nicknamed Old Black took out a piece of jerky carefully wrapped in oil paper from his clothes and tossed it to Lin Ming.

The jerky was blackened and looked terrible, but in this place, it was genuine hard currency, capable of replenishing precious blood and vitality.

Lin Ming caught it without ceremony, tore off a small piece, and slowly chewed it.

The jerky was tough and so salty it tasted bitter, but after swallowing it, a trace of warmth truly spread through his stomach.

"Thanks."

"No need to be polite!" Old Black grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by tobacco.

"You've got guts, kid! Killing alongside you feels damn good! I don't know whether my head will still be sitting on my neck tomorrow, but this mouthful of meat tastes good today!"

The other two also nodded at Lin Ming. One was a taciturn, lanky man with a scar on his face named Mute. The other was a bald man who always looked miserable but had bright eyes, named Bitter Melon. They each found a spot to sit and began gnawing on their own rations.

Old Wang sat beside Lin Ming, grimacing as he adjusted the position of his injured leg, then lowered his voice.

"Kid, don't go that hard next time. I know you want to kill more and rack up more merit, but you only get one life. If you keep fighting like that, even iron won't hold up."

Lin Ming said nothing, only continued chewing the jerky slowly.

Old Wang knew his temperament and did not press the matter. With a sigh, he changed the subject and asked,

"By the way, your spearwork just now seemed much sharper than before. Did you break through again?"

"Yeah. First Realm Seventh Layer Peak."

Lin Ming did not hide it, but he revealed only half the truth. His true First Realm Ninth Layer Peak cultivation and Microscopic Control spear art were his greatest trump cards now. There was no need to lay everything bare.

"Good heavens!" Old Wang's one eye lit up as he forcefully patted Lin Ming's uninjured shoulder.

"Three days! From First Realm Sixth Layer to First Realm Seventh Layer Peak! That speed of yours... Incredible! Truly incredible! Maybe you really can kill your way out of here!"

Old Black and the others nearby also looked over in astonishment. Advancing a minor layer in three days was practically a miracle in the Death Squad, where resources were scarce and no one knew if they would live to see tomorrow.

But they only assumed Lin Ming was extraordinarily gifted and had unleashed his potential through life-and-death combat. They did not think too deeply about it.

"If I want to kill my way out, what I can do now isn't enough." Lin Ming swallowed the last bite of jerky and suddenly asked Old Wang,

"Brother Wang, if I want to learn new, stronger martial skills, how do I go about it?"