Chapter 68: 68, Master-level skill learning map

The others who had been sound asleep were all jolted awake by the sudden burst of combat, the thunderous roar of gunfire echoing through the cavern as if a bomb had detonated at their ears.

These newly awakened souls barely grasped what had transpired, the gray shadow behind Xu Xianchu already taking form, standing immovable at his side.

The warmth of Yang Xiaojin’s gun barrel rapidly faded, yet the private soldier before her felt his blood chilling—this was her first true shot on the journey, and none had anticipated such resolve and decisiveness in her.

Moreover, her demeanor while killing was eerily serene, as mundane as sipping water.

Yet the true visual shock to the others came not from Yang Xiaojin, but from Ren Xiaosu.

In the span of a heartbeat, lightning-fast bullets tore into flesh, their spinning kinetic force rending muscle and organs until every ounce of energy was spent. But the bullet’s trajectory within the body remained unseen, even to the wounded.

Ren Xiaosu, however, defied expectation—his slight frame, barely seventeen and still undeveloped, belied the violence of hoisting an adult man with one hand.

None had ever considered his “combat prowess”; how much strength could a malnourished wanderer possess? Merely survival instincts honed in the wilderness.

Ren Xiaosu had never fought, Yang Xiaojin had never fired a shot, leaving their capabilities shrouded in vague assumptions—the very reason the assailants dared strike.

Yet their assumptions proved catastrophically wrong.

His fingers clamped like iron tongs around the attacker’s throat, cutting off blood flow to the brain in an instant. Though he could have kicked Ren Xiaosu’s vital points, his mind went blank, limbs twitching in senseless convulsions.

Yang Xiaojin did not gaze at the fallen soldier but fixed her eyes on Ren Xiaosu, her grip tightening on two guns aimed at everyone in the cavern.

Yet doubt crept in—Ren Xiaosu had been asleep, his snores possibly feigned, but his eyelids could not be disguised.

Her training included discerning true sleep; one might fake slumber, but thoughts unconsciously stir the lids—a person not truly asleep could not hold them still for long.

Thus, she knew he had been genuine.

Yet when the assailants rose, his snoring ceased, proof he had awakened in that moment.

How could one in deep slumber remain perpetually vigilant? Ren Xiaosu, a wanderer, could not have undergone such training!

Far off in the settlement, Yan Liuyuan’s happiest hours were guarding Ren Xiaosu, feeling needed, useful.

Though he could not join hunts while on watch, the role of “night guard” held profound meaning for him.

Yet he did not know Ren Xiaosu no longer required a guard—since the Palace’s emergence.

Now, Yang Xiaojin beheld Ren Xiaosu’s supernatural strength; could such a frail youth truly wield it? Even she had not foreseen this.

The fallen soldier gasped in the blood-soaked mud: “Sun Junzheng, strike now!”

But Sun Junzheng, crouched in the cavern, dared not utter a sound.

Xu Xianchu frowned: “What’s happening?”

Ren Xiaosu ignored him, glaring at the assailants who had sought his hospitality—offering pine nuts, needles, even water. Though he harbored schemes, the outcome had been benevolent.

He had long sensed their plotting, believing they might show restraint, at least some decency.

He did not inquire their motives—water? Guns? Luo Xinyu?

Ren Xiaosu felt no need to scream betrayal; he required no answers.

Without trust, there was no betrayal—these comrades were no different from beasts in his eyes.

He did not snap the attacker’s neck immediately, merely to gauge Xu Xianchu’s reaction.

Then the Palace spoke in his mind: “Mission: Grant the enemy a swift death.”

This time, Ren Xiaosu truly hesitated—this Palace preached virtue, yet now decreed ruthless slaughter…

Previously, he had exploited its loopholes, but now he found himself unmoored.

Surely sparing torment still counted as kindness? Your standards have fallen too swiftly…

Yet he knew the Palace lacked consciousness; its directives must stem from some hidden mechanism.

A muffled thud—Ren Xiaosu callously snapped the attacker’s neck. Sun Junzheng trembled: “It’s not my fault… I never told them you were strong!”

Bang!

Yang Xiaojin’s bullet pierced his brow, his unfinished words dying with him.

Ren Xiaosu turned to her; she spoke calmly: “Concealing guilt is complicity.”

He inhaled sharply—her meaning was clear: though Sun Junzheng had not revealed Ren Xiaosu’s strength, he had known of the plot yet failed to warn him. To eliminate threats, Sun Junzheng too deserved death.

This man, Ren Xiaosu mused, even as he continually revised his perception of Yang Xiaojin, her cruelty and decisiveness still surpassed expectation.

Yet he did not deem her wrong.

In a single night, their eleven-person squad dwindled to six: Xu Xianchu, Ren Xiaosu, Luo Xinyu, Liu Bu, Wang Lei, and Yang Xiaojin.

“Mission complete: Reward Master-class skill learning chart.”

Without hesitation, Ren Xiaosu applied the chart to Xu Xianchu. Compared to Yang Xiaojin’s firearms mastery, his own advancement from advanced to master held lesser weight—he needed Xu Xianchu’s abilities now.

“Randomly selecting target Master-class skill or supernatural power. If no corresponding advanced skill exists, learning will fail.”

“Target lacks Master-class skills. Extracted supernatural power ‘Shadow.’ Learn?”

Ren Xiaosu rejoiced—this meant supernatural powers could be plundered directly if no Master-class skills were present? He had thought the odds slim!

“Learn!”

“Learned ‘Shadow.’”

As he assimilated the new skill, he discovered a shadow standing within the Palace—a mirror of himself.

Yet to his surprise, Xu Xianchu’s shadow was gray, while his own was black.

What sorcery was this? Had his unwashed face darkened it?

…

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