"It's not about revenge. Not about justice.
It's just to confirm—
that I... can still kill."
---
Half a year had passed.
Around the ruined temple, the grass had been flattened into a faint ring—
The invisible mark of Shen's relentless training.
His body had undergone a transformation.
Bones hardened.
Muscles formed.
His movements grew swift and precise.
Though still incomparable to the qi-enhanced strength of cultivators,
by mortal standards,
he had already approached the limits of elite military conditioning.
He could run five kilometers with a 30-pound load.
He could scale three-meter walls in complete silence.
At night, he could hear the buzz of a mosquito and strike it down with a thrown needle.
He was never satisfied—
But he knew he was no longer the pitiful wretch curled in a corner waiting to die.
---
That night, Shen sat by the fire, spreading out a map crafted from animal hide.
It was the product of six months of scouting:
A map of the villages beyond the temple
A detailed chart of Lingyun Sect's outer stations and patrol routes
Three red dots marked relay outposts on the outskirts.
Beside one of them, he had drawn a small black cross—
With three words written underneath:
> "Target One."
---
[Target One]
Name: Unknown
Gender: Male
Age: Around 20
Status: Outer disciple of Lingyun Sect, stationed at a spirit-transport outpost
Duties: Tax collection and patrol between rural villages
According to months of observation—
The man was lazy, greedy, and lecherous.
He frequently left his post to bathe in a nearby stream or extort villagers.
Though technically a cultivator,
he only possessed a low-grade spiritual root, and his cultivation was minimal.
Most importantly:
> "He often moves alone."
---
This was the stone Shen had chosen to sharpen his first blade.
Not because the man was particularly wicked.
Not because he sought revenge.
But because Shen needed a kill.
He needed to confirm if he still had the instincts of Shadow.
Killing wasn't just about skill—
It was a mental game.
A tilt of will.
A moment when one stares into the abyss… and acts anyway.
---
[Preparation Phase]
Shen retrieved the bone dart wrist launcher he had crafted months ago.
Crude but functional, the device was made of sharpened beast bone,
fitted into a forearm sheath, triggered by muscle tension and a taut string.
The dart tips were coated with Silent Nerve Powder—
A homemade toxin that paralyzed the body and blurred the mind within seconds.
If untreated, it could be fatal in ten breaths.
He also packed a toxin smoke pouch—
A crude bomb that released a blinding irritant upon impact.
Enough to gain the edge in close combat.
No spiritual energy.
No divine sense.
No magical artifacts.
But Shen only said:
> "I'm not a cultivator. I'm a killer."
"You need qi. I just need a weak point."
---
[Infiltration]
At dusk, Shen donned a black cloak made from beast hide.
He circled through the forest, moving silently toward the target outpost.
The area sat near a spirit vein route, with cultivators often stationed nearby.
But patrols were lax at the outer perimeter.
Shen slipped into the nearby woods unnoticed.
He crouched behind a pile of rocks and waited—
Two hours.
Until—
Target acquired.
The man emerged, grumbling, carrying his clothes, heading toward the mountain stream.
Just as expected.
Shen analyzed his pace, awareness, and hand positioning.
In his mind, he played out the entire encounter.
Ten meters.
Seven meters.
Three.
Enough.
Shen's right hand brushed the bone dart inside his sleeve.
His left gripped the toxin pouch.
He took a breath—
And glided from the shadows like a phantom.
Boom—!
The smoke pouch exploded at the target's feet,
releasing a blast of yellow-brown gas.
> "Who's there?!" the cultivator yelled, coughing.
Too late.
Shen rushed through the mist.
The bone dart launched—
Striking the man's neck, just beneath the jaw.
Not a fatal strike—
But the poison was already in his blood.
The cultivator stumbled back, twitching, struggling to retaliate—
But before he could finish a single hand seal,
his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.
Shen didn't flee.
He crouched beside the man, pressed two fingers to his pulse—
No heartbeat.
Confirmed kill.
The entire encounter lasted less than six breaths.
But Shen's fingers trembled—just slightly.
Not from fear.
But because a part of him had awakened again—
> He could still kill.
---
He left without a trace.
The scene so clean,
no one would even suspect foul play.
---
[Return]
That night, he walked the forest path back to the temple.
His shadow stretched long in the moonlight.
The sky was clear.
The stars quiet.
Shen looked up at a faint star above—
And muttered:
> "This wasn't revenge. It was confirmation."
"I needed to know… I'm not just a man with memories and nothing else."
> "...Good. Now I know."
---
Inside the temple, firelight rose again.
Shen sat at the stone table.
He cleaned the bone dart, adjusted the toxin formula,
and drew a red circle around "Target One" on the map.
Underneath, he wrote:
> "Completed. Confirmed Hit."
Then, in the lower corner of the map, he circled the area marked "Lingyun Sect."
He wrote:
> "Final Objective: Retrieve Wan'er. Eliminate all who stand in the way."
> "Progress: 0.00001%."
---
He didn't have a system menu.
But he had a memory checklist.
He didn't hear battle notifications—
But he had a heartbeat to measure his timing.
He had no plot armor—
But he had the killing intent of a man who had already died once.
Shen gave a cold smile.
> "Cultivators… take your time to train."
"I'll take my time to kill."
> "We'll meet at the gates one day."