Chapter 10: Extraordinary Insight, the Great Commander’s Invitation

Li Dao opened the manuscript of the Gale Blade Technique. Unlike typical cultivation manuals, this one combined images with text. As before, he relied on his exceptional memory to quickly imprint the entire content into his mind.

After committing it to memory, he carefully tucked the Gale Blade Technique back into his bosom. With no actual blade to practice on, Li Dao could only imagine the movements, rehearsing the technique mentally.

Perhaps it was due to his enhanced physique—a comprehensive strengthening that elevated his mental faculties to ten times that of an ordinary person. Even just practicing in his mind, he could vividly replicate the moves described in the Gale Blade Technique.

Half an hour later, Li Dao opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing within them. He looked at his hands and felt an uncanny sensation. It was as if, the moment he held a blade, he could flawlessly execute the Gale Blade Technique.

Recalling his previous encounter with the Northern Barbarian leader, he sensed that he could easily discern the opponent's blade moves. If the leader appeared before him again, even without relying on brute physical strength, Li Dao felt confident he could suppress and defeat him using the Gale Blade Technique.

“Is this a new skill gained from my enhanced physique?” he wondered.

He had originally thought that strengthening his body meant forging a path of brute force to overcome all. But unexpectedly, the physical enhancement also elevated his spirit to a level where he could rapidly master a blade technique. Though the Gale Blade Technique was relatively simple, the ability to learn it perfectly after just a glance and some mental rehearsal was extraordinary.

Could a combination of brute force and mastery of a single skill be the key? It seemed promising. A body beyond ordinary paired with a deadly technique—who could stand against that? As long as his physique could overpower the opponent, killing enemies would be just a matter of time.

With this thought, he no longer fretted over his inability to cultivate in the conventional sense. In fact, this boundless enhancement of his body might itself be a form of cultivation—just a different path than the traditional one of circulating inner energy.

He decided to call this method “Cross-Training.”

...

Time passed slowly.

Perhaps the last mission had resulted in heavy casualties among Chief Liu’s men, as a week went by without any new death-row tasks assigned to Li Dao. He could only pass the time in his cell, dozing off or studying the Gale Blade Technique further, trying to adapt it to his mind enhanced to ten times normal capacity.

After seven days of study, he had indeed made some progress. Through continuous mental practice and deconstruction, he successfully refined the Gale Blade Technique, removing moves that required the circulation of inner energy and replacing them with techniques better suited to his enhanced physique.

In summary, this modified Gale Blade Technique was now more lethal and suited for harvesting lives on the battlefield.

Another day passed.

Li Dao rested with his eyes closed in a corner of the cell when footsteps echoed outside. He opened his eyes and looked toward the source of the sound.

Soon, Chief Liu’s face appeared outside the cell.

“9527, come out.”

The guard unlocked the door, calling to Li Dao. He rose, dusted off dirt from his clothes, and stepped out.

“Another mission?” Li Dao asked, eyeing Chief Liu.

Liu shook his head. “No mission for now. I have other business for you.”

“What business?” Li Dao’s curiosity was piqued. From his perspective, aside from killing, he wasn’t sure what other use he could be.

Chief Liu gestured, and the guard unlocked Li Dao’s shackles and leg irons.

“Follow me, and you’ll find out,” Liu said, leading the way deeper into the death row.

Li Dao rubbed his wrists and followed silently. As they went further in, the cells became emptier. Eventually, many of the cells were completely vacant.

“Is this place empty?” Li Dao asked.

Liu glanced at the empty cells and spoke calmly, “Border skirmishes have been frequent lately, so death row inmates are being used up quickly.”

His tone revealed how little regard the regime had for these prisoners—they were mere expendables.

Liu glanced at Li Dao’s expression, noticing no reaction, and added, “But don’t worry. You’re different. You’re more valuable, so you won’t be treated as expendable.”

Li Dao nodded, unfazed by the idea of being a disposable pawn. In his eyes, those destined to die were naturally expendable. Some might even envy the dead, as surviving could be far harder.

...

Continuing deeper, they soon reached a door.

Li Dao turned back. “Chief Liu, what is this place?”

“This is where I wanted to bring you,” Liu replied. “Once inside, you’ll understand why I summoned you. But rest assured, it’s not bad. It might even be good. How it turns out depends on you.”

With those cryptic words, Liu pushed the door open and gestured for Li Dao to enter.

Good? Li Dao shook his head. Having come this far, there was no turning back—he would just have to take it as it came.

Inside was a dim corridor, a faint light flickering at its end. With his heightened senses, Li Dao detected several living presences near the glow.

He walked slowly toward the light.

As he neared, his expression shifted. He sensed these people’s breathing was unlike ordinary humans, more akin to Chief Liu’s and the Northern Barbarian leader’s.

It was easy to deduce they were cultivators.

...

Finally, Li Dao reached the corridor’s end and found a room.

Inside were five people, four of whom had distinct features.

The closest to Li Dao was a towering figure—two and a half meters tall, heavily muscled like a miniature giant. Just standing there, motionless, he exuded a terrifying pressure. More striking was his aura, bestial and wild.

Perhaps noticing Li Dao’s stare, the giant abruptly turned and locked eyes with him. In that instant, Li Dao felt as if a ferocious tiger was staring him down.

Finding no fault, the giant relaxed, leaning against the wall in a daze.

Li Dao’s gaze then shifted to a small figure beside the giant. Not small only in comparison but genuinely diminutive—barely 1.2 meters tall, gaunt, with tangled, filthy hair.

Yet, from this little person emanated an aura even more savage than the giant’s.

Not wildness, but madness.

This small figure caught Li Dao’s eye and snarled, baring jagged teeth in a threatening expression.

His eyes were wild yet tinged with clarity, like a deranged soul.

The other two were more normal by comparison.

One was a middle-aged, rotund man with a lecherous face.

The other, an elderly man muttering to himself.

The only truly normal person present was a middle-aged man standing in the center, clad in armor similar in style to Chief Liu’s but of higher rank. This man radiated the most dangerous aura among them.

“You’ve finally arrived. Only you were missing,” the middle-aged man smiled upon seeing Li Dao.

“Who are you?” Li Dao raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Wei Yun, Grand Commander of the Mighty Valor Battalion.”

Li Dao was momentarily stunned.

The Mighty Valor Battalion was the army stationed in Changgu Town, and the Grand Commander was its highest officer—Chief Liu’s superior.

Looking at the other four, Li Dao sat down and said, “What business does Grand Commander Wei have with an ordinary death row inmate like me?”

“Ordinary?” Wei Yun smiled wryly. “You killed nearly fifty enemies in just two death-row missions, including the leader of a hundred Northern Barbarian cavalry. I don’t think that’s ordinary at all.”

Li Dao glanced at the others and settled in. “Speak plainly.”

Wei Yun chuckled. “Since you’re all here, I’ll be straightforward. I’ve called you to ask for your help in resolving some matters for the Mighty Valor Battalion.”

Li Dao raised an eyebrow.

Before he could speak, the rotund man interrupted indignantly.

“What nonsense? You want me, Shen San, to help the court? I’d rather die here than serve the regime.”

With that, Shen San turned and strode toward the corridor, clearly intending to leave.

Wei Yun remained calm, even smiling faintly.

Watching Shen San walk away, he murmured, “Fine. I was hoping you’d help, and I’d restore your household registration and grant freedom afterward.”

Suddenly, a gust of wind appeared out of nowhere.

Everyone saw Shen San vanish from the corridor and reappear before Wei Yun in the blink of an eye.

“Is it true? You’d restore my registration and free me?” Shen San grabbed Wei Yun’s armor, eyes alight with excitement.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t work for the court?” Wei Yun smiled.

“What do you mean ‘work for the court’? I’m just voluntarily helping.”

“But you said you wouldn’t change your mind even if you died.”

“Well, I’m not dead yet.”

Wei Yun smiled gently. “I’m serious. So, do you agree?”

“Agree, agree!” Shen San nodded determinedly, exemplifying the ‘turncoat’ principle.

“But your agreement alone isn’t enough,” Wei Yun continued, looking at Li Dao and the others. “All five of you must agree. The tasks may be dangerous, so you must work together.”

Hearing this, Shen San turned to the group and clapped his hands loudly. “What are you waiting for? This is freedom!”

The elderly man coughed hoarsely. “I’ll agree, but fatso, you’ll be my medicine boy.”

Shen San jumped up indignantly. “Why should I be your medicine boy?”

A medicine boy was someone used for testing medicines, usually by skilled healers.

The old man retorted bluntly, “Then I don’t agree. You can rot here with me.”

“You!” Shen San was at a loss but finally relented. “Your medicine won’t kill me, right?”

The old man laughed coldly, confident. “I’ve never killed anyone with my medicine in my whole life.”

Shen San gave a half-believing look.

Wei Yun spoke up, “You can trust him. He’s never killed anyone with medicine.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Fine, I’ll trust you this once. But only one trial.”

With Shen San agreeing, Li Dao glanced at Wei Yun, sensing something off about the ever-smiling commander.

Shen San then approached Li Dao.

“Hey, young and handsome brother, you’ll agree too, right? It’d be a shame to rot here so young.”

Perhaps still smarting from the old man’s remark, Shen San was suddenly very polite.

Li Dao looked at Shen San, then Wei Yun. “I’ll agree, but you must answer a few questions first.”

Wei Yun smiled faintly. “Go ahead.”

“First, how many things do we need to help you with?”

Wei Yun raised an eyebrow. “Ten.”

Li Dao’s face darkened. “No way.”

Ten tasks? He might as well patiently accumulate battle merits instead. Organizing five people alone for such difficult missions was absurd.

Wei Yun looked disappointed and shook his head. “Then how many do you want?”

Shen San was dumbfounded. So negotiating was possible? His earlier attitude seemed wasted.

Li Dao held up three fingers. “Three.”

Shen San was stunned—who negotiated like that? It was worse than getting half the price. As he prepared to plead for Wei Yun, the commander nodded after a brief hesitation.

“Fine, three it is.”

Shen San nearly fell over, amazed that three tasks were sufficient.

Li Dao’s second question: “Will any of these tasks be suicide missions?”

Shen San and the old man both froze, their gazes fixed on Wei Yun.

“Why do you ask?” Wei Yun inquired curiously.

Li Dao replied calmly with a famous saying from his past life:

“When the cunning hare dies, the hunting dog is cooked; when the flying birds are gone, the good bow is put away. It’s always been so.”

Wei Yun slowly repeated, feeling a wave of melancholy and the bitterness of being discarded. Then he changed his tone and said solemnly, “Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of person. Although these tasks are dangerous, I won’t deliberately sacrifice you.”

“Brother, you speak well! It’s a shame to waste you here on death row. You should take the imperial exam. Maybe with some luck, you could even marry a princess.”

Shen San praised him with admiration, unaware that Li Dao had already bedded the highest-ranking princess of the Great Qian Dynasty, regardless of marriage.

Seeing Wei Yun and Shen San’s strange reactions, Li Dao recalled that this world differed from his past life, so history and customs weren’t the same. Without the system, his knowledge of old poetry might have still served him well. Alas, this life offered no chance to be a mere scribe—only the thrill of a death-row existence.

“Any other questions?” Wei Yun asked.

“No,” Li Dao shook his head. He already knew what mattered most.

With Li Dao’s agreement, Shen San relaxed and turned to the remaining two—the towering giant and the little madman.

Taking a deep breath, Shen San chose to deal with the seemingly easiest: the madman.

Wei Yun warned, “Be careful, Shen San.”

“Relax. Just a little guy. I’ll have him in hand.”

An incense stick’s time passed.

Inside the room, two shadows darted swiftly—the madman chasing, Shen San fleeing, with frantic howls.

“Help me, big brother!” Shen San pleaded, battered and bitten on his backside and arm.

The old man stood helplessly aside; at his age, going in was certain death.

Wei Yun had said Shen San must handle it himself, but that was unreliable.

Finally, Shen San looked at Li Dao, hoping for aid.

“Big brother, save me.”

With that, he cunningly fled toward Li Dao.

Li Dao saw through Shen San’s “kindness” at once.

As Shen San lunged, Li Dao showed no mercy, delivering a strong kick that sent him flying aside.

The madman immediately leapt at Li Dao.

Quick as lightning, Li Dao reached out and grabbed the madman’s neck.

Lifting him with one hand, the madman struggled in midair, his short limbs flailing, barking wildly at Li Dao.

“Brother, you’re a bit too rough,” Shen San grumbled, rising from the ground.

Li Dao merely cast a disdainful glance and ignored him, focusing on the madman.

No matter the reason, he had to subdue this troublemaker before they worked together.

As the madman continued to struggle and snap, Li Dao smiled faintly and murmured to himself, “Time to try the windmill.”

He spun the madman around in his hand.

One turn... two... ten...

The madman initially twisted about but soon could no longer endure the spinning. His wild eyes lost their madness, replaced by terror, helplessness, and finally, panic and confusion.