42-An Unusual Sight.

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"Hurry up and chase him! Don't let that kid escape. I've been watching him every day—these past few days, he's earned hundreds of taels. Once we torture the medicine recipe out of him, we'll strike it rich!"

The second wave of people in the dense forest finally caught up. The one shouting just now was none other than Skinny Monkey, the guy selling fake manuals, running in the middle of the group.

When the eight of them arrived, panting heavily, they were greeted by the sight of five blood-soaked corpses and Zhong Lin standing in the center like a demon god.

Everyone froze, staring blankly at Zhong Lin.

Zhong Lin straightened up, looking at this new group with a faint, ambiguous smile.

"You're here?"

Gulp! 

Skinny Monkey couldn't help but swallow hard, his legs trembling—especially when he saw the three heads at his feet, their eyes still wide open in death.

He'd seen dead people before, and he'd witnessed plenty of killings, but this was the first time he'd encountered someone—outside of an executioner—who liked chopping off heads.

"Brothers, charge! It's just him alone. Catch him, and we'll be rich. Plus, he's been fighting for so long—he must be out of strength!"

Skinny Monkey shouted loudly, and the others, blinded by greed, rushed toward Zhong Lin with fervor.

This time, Zhong Lin didn't scatter lime powder. Instead, he charged straight at them.

Compared to Dong Yan's group, these guys were a step slower—at most, they were barely ranked martial artists. What was there to fear?

The one in front had clearly trained in martial arts. He leaped into the air, sweeping his right leg toward Zhong Lin's temple.

However.

Zhong Lin didn't dodge or flinch. With a crack, he grabbed the man's right leg with a backhand grip.

Normally, an arm couldn't overpower a thigh—let alone block a swift, powerful kick—but Zhong Lin not only caught it, he held it fast, rendering the man immobile.

"Ranked… a ranked martial artist… Skinny Monkey, I'll screw your mother!"

The moment Zhong Lin seized his right leg, the man realized a terrifying truth: the person they were trying to rob was a ranked martial artist.

He was just a thug lured by Skinny Monkey's promises of wealth. Even with the courage of a bear or a leopard, he wouldn't dare rob a ranked martial artist. Alas, it was too late now.

Crack! 

With a twist of Zhong Lin's hand, his five hundred pounds of strength snapped the man's right leg like a twig.

"Ah… spare me… spare me!"

A flash of the blade—the ghost-head saber slid smoothly, and another life ended.

With a step forward, Zhong Lin crouched slightly and surged into the group like a cheetah. His ghost-head saber sliced through the air. To the onlookers, it was as if a white streak flashed through the dark night, followed by sprays of blood and the vanishing of another life.

The eight men before him were all unranked thugs—at best, a bit stronger than the average person. Killing them was almost too easy.

Of course, perhaps it wasn't that they were too weak, but that Zhong Lin was too strong.

An Eighth Rank Tendon-Refining Realm martial artist with five hundred pounds of strength, paired with max-level sword techniques and movement skills enhanced by the system…

Killing a group of ordinary people like this was no harder than slaughtering chickens. In just a few breaths, Zhong Lin had cut them all down.

"Phew! Finally some peace."

Glancing around, Zhong Lin took in the thirteen corpses scattered about. The thick stench of blood assaulted his nose, and even he felt a wave of nausea. 

"This isn't a place to linger. Now that it's settled, I need to leave quickly."

With thoughts racing, Zhong Lin hurriedly began looting the bodies.

He started with Skinny Monkey's group, scavenging only some loose coins and small bits of silver—three taels in total.

"Poor bastards."

Zhong Lin couldn't help but curse inwardly. Still, it made sense—a bunch of thugs out to rob him wouldn't carry much money on them. 

On Skinny Monkey himself, he found a book that looked like some kind of martial technique. But Zhong Lin couldn't tell if it was real or fake—given this guy's specialty was selling fakes, he didn't bother taking it.

Dong Yan's group, however, proved far more lucrative.

Dong Yan was an Eighth Rank martial artist, and the other four were Ninth Rank—leagues above Skinny Monkey's ragtag crew. Setting aside everything else, the weapons they carried alone could fetch a good price.

Zhong Lin didn't touch those weapons, though. Weapons were too conspicuous. The previous owner of his ghost-head saber was just a thug, so it didn't matter, but these weapons belonged to ranked martial artists. Who knew if they had backers, relatives, or friends? He didn't want to deal with the fallout of killing the young only to face the old.

After a thorough search, Zhong Lin collected sixty-five taels of silver and twelve Blood-Replenishing Pills.

What excited him most was finding five "Bone-Strengthening Pills" on Dong Yan's body.

"Good stuff! These are for tempering bones and advancing to the Seventh Rank. Shame this guy didn't drop his martial arts manual."

Then again, in the novels from his past life, killing someone and having them drop techniques or mysterious artifacts was pure plot convenience. In reality, who walks around carrying their martial arts manual every day?

Zhong Lin didn't dwell on it. With his spoils in hand, he hurried off into the night.

The midnight breeze blew away the blood stench clinging to Zhong Lin as he returned home.

Little Shi was still waiting for Zhong Lin to come back before sleeping. Zhong Lin lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"System."

- Host: Zhong Lin

- Skills: Archery (Max Level), Flying Locust Stone (Max Level), Realistic Painting (Max Level), Calligraphy (Max Level), Culinary Arts (Max Level), Iron Mountain Strength Technique (Max Level), Instant Kill Technique (Max Level), Black Tiger Fist (Max Level), Willow Catkin Footwork (Max Level), Wind-Splitting Blade Technique (Max Level), Medicine (Max Level), Pharmacy(Max Level).

- Skill Points: ∞ 

Two new skills had been added to the skill list. The first came from studying medicine, while the second emerged from his attempts at pill refining and pharmacy.

Zhong Lin had also discovered something that wasn't quite a bug but felt like one: the "Medicine" skill, for instance.

Having transmigrated from his past life, Zhong Lin knew the human body was an incredibly precise system. Doctors and physicians often specialized in different fields when learning to heal—internal medicine, surgery, neurology, dermatology, proctology, and so on.

Zhong Lin wasn't arrogant enough to think he could master every medical discipline. The "Max Level Medicine" in his skill list was more of an integration of what he'd learned recently from books like *The Subtleties of Cold Damage*, *The Primer of Herbal Medicine*, and *The Essentials of Diet*. It represented mastery of those specific texts.

He also realized that the so-called "max level" for a skill only meant reaching the limit of its creator's own capabilities.

This was, perhaps, a rigidity in the system panel—it couldn't innovate or surpass the original creator's boundaries.

Even so, it was already incredibly powerful.

As drowsiness crept in, Zhong Lin drifted off to sleep.

…

The next morning, the two brothers got up. Instead of going out for breakfast, they stayed home, cooking rice porridge and boiling some eggs.

While walking Little Shi to Master Liu's place, Zhong Lin noticed more refugees and beggars in the city. He also ran into bailiffs and constables from the yamen maintaining order—an unusual sight.

These guys were usually the laziest bunch around. Since when did they start working this early?

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