Well isn't this most exciting.

"Supernatural power—this is supernatural power!" Zhong Lin's heart surged with excitement.

In his past life as an ordinary citizen of China, how could he not yearn for the legendary supernatural abilities? Especially now, with the cheat-like existence of the system panel, limiting himself to mundane skills would be a colossal waste of this "golden finger."

Zhu Jie and his group also noticed Zhen Shan Hu's extraordinary nature. Their faces paled, fear spilling over uncontrollably.

"A ranked martial artist! It's a ranked martial artist!" 

The Xianlu Village chief collapsed to the ground, his eyes brimming with despair.

"No way, impossible! How could a ranked martial artist end up here as a bandit?" 

Zhu Jie, staring at the charging Zhen Shan Hu, stammered in terror. "Elder Cui, what's a ranked martial artist? Why can't arrows pierce him?"

The Xianlu Village chief rose slowly, his face etched with hopelessness.

"A martial artist is someone who's cultivated martial arts to a ranked level. Ordinary people who train might gain some strength or learn basic moves, but once they reach a rank, it's a different story—they become true martial artists. One against ten is child's play for them. Normal people stand no chance. Arrows can't pierce their skin, blades leave only white marks—this is a trait of the Ninth Rank 'Skin Grinding' stage."

A ranked martial artist, even at the Ninth Rank Skin Grinding stage, could shrug off arrows and withstand blades as if clad in armor, taking on ten foes with ease.

Martial artists… ranks… Skin Grinding…

Zhong Lin listened intently, his excitement barely contained. This world truly harbored supernatural powers.

"Heh, the old man's got a sharp eye. Boys, surround them—nobody's leaving today!" 

Zhen Shan Hu strode forward, his face twisted in a feral grin.

The bandits behind him whooped and closed in, their greedy eyes fixating on the ox carts' goods and the women atop them. It was clear what fate awaited anyone who fell into their hands.

Zhong Lin's expression shifted. In his eagerness to learn about "supernatural powers," he'd gotten too close—now he was caught in the bandits' encirclement.

Without a second thought, he turned and bolted to the left.

The left side's encirclement hadn't fully formed yet. A ragged, disheveled bandit wielding what could barely be called a spear—a crude, makeshift weapon—closed in.

"Kid, stop right there, or I'll put a couple holes in you!" 

The bandit snarled, his face dripping with malice.

Zhong Lin, with Little Shi on his back, didn't slow. His right hand slipped to the pouch at his waist, seizing a diamond-shaped stone and flinging it in one fluid motion.

*Whoosh!*

At a mere seven or eight meters, the distance was nothing to his max-level "Flying Locust Stone" skill—point and hit. The stone rocketed straight for the bandit's face.

"Ah! My eye…"

The bandit crumpled, blood pouring through the fingers clutching his face, his screams echoing. Zhong Lin seized the chance, racing toward the distant forest with Little Shi still on his back.

The moment seemed prolonged, but it happened in an instant. The bandit's cries drew Zhen Shan Hu's attention.

"Useless trash! Surround him!" 

Zhen Shan Hu roared. The earlier arrow volley had cost him seven or eight men. He'd thought revealing his "ranked" power would make them kneel in submission, but someone daring to defy him was a slap in the face.

At his command, five or six nearby bandits swarmed toward Zhong Lin.

Zhong Lin's face grew grim. The mountain path was rough, and with Little Shi on his back, outrunning them was impossible. If they boxed him in, his scrawny frame wouldn't stand a chance against these bandits—he'd be dead.

"Shi, get down!"

Little Shi didn't hesitate. Trusting his brother, he released his grip around Zhong Lin's neck and leapt off.

Zhong Lin's right hand darted to the quiver at his waist, nocking an arrow. He spun sharply.

*Whoosh!*

A sudden cold arrow streaked from an angle, aimed straight at Zhen Shan Hu.

It was too abrupt, the angle too cunning.

Zhen Shan Hu hadn't expected Zhong Lin to shoot at him instead of fleeing. The arrow's speed and trajectory left no room to dodge—its image loomed larger and larger in his vision.

A sharp pain stabbed his right eye. The next moment, the arrow pierced through his skull, half its tip protruding from the back of his head.

"Boss?!"

The bandits froze, jaws dropping in horror.

The unexpected arrow caught everyone off guard. Even Zhu Jie, Elder Cui, and the others stared in disbelief.

One moment, they were talking about how a Ninth Rank martial artist's skin couldn't be pierced by arrows or cut by blades. The next, someone shot through his eye.

So it wasn't that arrows couldn't penetrate—just that they hadn't hit the right spot.

Right spot, my foot!

Everyone knew eyes were a weak point, but who had the skill to nail one with a single shot?

The Xianlu Village chief snapped out of it first, shouting, "Zhen Shan Hu's dead! Follow me—kill the bandits!"

His cry jolted the others awake. Zhu Jie and his group rallied their men, hacking at the bandits.

Zhong Lin stopped running. Instead of fleeing, he raised his bow. Each twang of the string claimed a bandit's life—every shot a bullseye, never missing. Like a reaper of souls, he felled over a dozen bandits in moments.

"Run!"

"Don't kill me, don't kill me!"

"Flee!"

With their leader dead and facing this relentless harbinger of death, the bandits' morale shattered. They turned and bolted, wishing their parents had given them extra legs.

Zhong Lin exhaled in relief, stepping forward to retrieve his arrows while looting the bodies.

"Young brother, you're a true master—a hero! This old man thanks you!" 

After directing their men to clean up the battlefield, Zhu Jie and the others approached Zhong Lin. The Xianlu Village chief even bowed deeply.

They knew full well that without Zhong Lin's sudden arrow felling Zhen Shan Hu, they'd never have survived this ordeal—likely all left dead on the mountain.

Zhong Lin waved a hand lightly. "No need for thanks. I was just protecting myself."

He wasn't exaggerating. That shot was meant to distract Zhen Shan Hu, buying time to escape. He hadn't expected it to kill him outright.

Max-level archery was just that good.

"This isn't the place to talk. Let's get moving!"

"Yes, yes, the young brother's right."

The group didn't linger. After a quick cleanup, they urged the ox carts onward.

Zhong Lin collected all his arrows, pausing at Zhen Shan Hu's corpse.

The fallen bandit lay with his right eye pierced, blood and brain matter oozing along the arrow. His left eye bulged wide, his face frozen in a look of disbelief—like he'd seen a ghost.

He probably never imagined he'd die to a single cold arrow.