Chapter 263: I Want to Be a Good Person, But the Damn System Won't Allow It.

A few of them nibbled on skewers of grilled meat while exchanging insights, experiences, and reflections from their recent mission.

Facing a martial artist in life-or-death combat for the first time had undoubtedly yielded immense gains; Hao Zhengxing and the others were brimming with thoughts they couldn’t help but voice. Through this exchange, not only did they ease their pent-up tension, but they also deepened their understanding—each one emerging wiser, sharper, more attuned to the brutal elegance of survival.

Half an hour later, sated and refreshed, they returned to campus.

Each bore minor injuries, so they parted ways to rest, agreeing to reconvene in a day before setting out again on their next assignment.

Wang Teng walked alone back to his dormitory. From the velvet-black sky, the little crow descended, landing gently upon his outstretched arm. Wang Teng smiled. “You’ve earned your rest this time.”

“Gaa!”

The crow cawed—a sound that might have been acknowledgment, or perhaps just hunger.

“Here—your reward.” He withdrew a hefty slab of star-beast flesh from his spatial ring and tossed it toward the bird.

With a flutter of wings, the crow snatched the meat midair and vanished into the shadows, seeking a quiet corner to feast.

Wang Teng showered, dried his hair, and stepped back into his room. With a thought, he summoned his attribute panel:

【Earth-based Primal Force ×25】

【Water-based Primal Force ×20】

【Metal-based Primal Force ×42】

【Assassination Technique ×8】

【Earth-based Primal Force ×70】

【Assassination Technique ×5】

…

“Huh?” Wang Teng murmured, eyes narrowing.

Something odd had slipped in—something *very* odd.

Assassination Technique.

Thirteen points, total.

*Assassination Technique: 13/100 (Novice)*

He closed his eyes, sinking inward—and there it was: a new memory, tucked away like a forbidden scroll in the recesses of his mind. It detailed the art of assassination—not merely stealth and silence, but a labyrinthine repertoire of tricks: poisonings both subtle and grotesque, feints that defied logic, strikes delivered without breath, without warning. A master assassin could extinguish a life as effortlessly as snuffing a candle—no cry, no struggle, only stillness.

That was the pinnacle.

What Wang Teng had acquired, however, was but a crude primer—raw material, waiting to be refined through sheer investment of attributes. The system’s creed was simple: *Enough stats, and strength becomes limitless.*

“Why do I keep getting these… bizarre skills?” He stroked his chin, a flicker of delight warring with quiet despair.

*I want to be good,* he thought, *but the damn system won’t let me.*

…

One day later, Wang Teng’s squad regrouped at the Logistics Building to select their next mission.

Notably, due to the appearance of a Three-Star Combatant-class martial artist in their previous task, the Police Bureau had verified the details and awarded an additional 100 academic credits—bringing their total haul to 300.

Once again, Wang Teng took the lead in choosing the mission—no hesitation, no modesty. Time was scarce. They’d spent four days on a single assignment—admittedly one that likely equaled five others in difficulty—but Wang Teng never measured his team against others. Excellence wasn’t relative; it was absolute. Every second wasted was a step backward.

Had Hao Zhengxing and the others not been rookies, he wouldn’t have granted them even a single day’s rest. A few scrapes? Nonsense. Real progress came from grinding—relentlessly, mercilessly.

“This one,” Wang Teng declared, selecting a Police Bureau mission and confirming the team’s acceptance.

Hao Zhengxing, Yuan Jing, and the rest glanced at the description—and instantly felt their spirits collapse.

**Mission Brief:** Assist the Police Bureau in capturing or eliminating Lei Hui, a Wind-element Two-Star Combatant-class martial artist. Formerly an officer within the Bureau, he stole classified Wind-element cultivation manuals during a covert operation, murdered his colleagues upon discovery, and fled. Proficient in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat; exceptionally dangerous.

**Requirements:** Minimum of five One-Star Elite Combatants and one Two-Star Combatant—or two Two-Star Combatants.

**Reward:** 400 academic credits.

This mission dwarfed the last in peril—so much so that the previous near-death ordeal now seemed almost merciful. Their hearts sank.

“Come on,” Wang Teng said, utterly unruffled, “high difficulty means rapid growth. That’s how it works.”

“Captain,” Hao Zhengxing groaned, “you’re speaking from the comfort of a spine that’s never been cracked.”

“My spine is fine,” Wang Teng affirmed, nodding solemnly.

“…” The group stared, speechless.

The mission originated from the South District Police Station. Arriving there, Wang Teng’s team met with the local officers to finalize the handover.

Their liaison was a middle-aged man in uniform—the station chief himself, Chief Xin.

“Lei Hui stole a Wind-element cultivation manual seized during a prior operation,” Xin explained gravely. “He possesses innate Wind affinity but lacked the funds to acquire proper training—so he gambled everything. Unfortunately, one of our own caught him in the act. And rather than face consequences… he slaughtered his comrade without hesitation.”

“A theft for cultivation knowledge?” Wang Teng frowned. “But aren’t there countless avenues to obtain such manuals? Even ordinary citizens can sign contracts with clans or merchant alliances.”

“If it were that simple,” Xin replied, voice laced with quiet bitterness, “who would willingly surrender their future to another’s control? Once bound by contract, freedom becomes a myth. Lei Hui refused servitude. He sought autonomy—power on his own terms. Had he gone undetected, he might have succeeded. Perhaps even spun a tale—some old beggar on the street, struck by his ‘exceptional bone structure,’ bestowing a secret manual as a gift. Without proof, who could challenge him?”

Wang Teng nodded slowly. Fate, it seemed, had dealt Lei Hui a cruel hand—his ambition nearly flawless, his timing tragically off.

“Enough,” Xin sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’ve pursued him for half a year. He knows our patterns, anticipates our moves—always slipping away, eventually fleeing to another province. Only recently did he reappear in Donghai, spotted by a witness who discreetly reported it. Now we know his location.”

He paused, gaze drifting skeptically over the young faces before him. Through the mission system, he knew they were freshmen—barely past their first semester. The requirements were explicit. Could these greenhorns possibly meet them?

“Chief Xin,” Wang Teng said, meeting his eyes, “we accepted this mission because we’re confident. We don’t gamble with our lives lightly. And if the system approved our acceptance, then it believes we possess the requisite strength.”

Xin studied him for a long moment—then gave a curt nod. He had said all he needed to say. The mission was theirs. The consequences, too, would be theirs alone to bear.