Chapter 17: One in a Million
Chapter 17: One in a Million
It was too dangerous. His troublesome master had countless enemies. Just imagining it felt perilous—any random person on the road might harbor vengeance for a murdered father or slaughtered family, eager to fight to the death. Then they’d parade his severed head to provoke that cheap master, sparking a chain of grudges and revenge plots where Young Hero Zuo’s head would merely serve as the story’s opening act.
This world overflowed with danger.
He absolutely needed to grow stronger.
Zuo Meng’s resolve hardened, his lazy fish mentality swept away. He decided to first try obtaining the cultivation methods of the Three Great Lords. Securing even one would let him exploit his world’s rules to find loopholes, reverse-engineer ancient techniques, and analyze advanced energies. Even without the methods, infiltrating Heifeng Fort would lead him to the dust powder source. With that energy supply, he’d modify his internal energy for a thousand years—two thousand if needed. If the Three Great Lords still resisted, he’d push to ten thousand years, a hundred thousand. Quantity bred invincibility.
Step one was clear: infiltrate Heifeng Fort.
“Any alternatives?”
Earth Rat traded secrets for coin, though prices ran steep. To show commitment, Zuo Meng dumped his entire purse onto the table.
Eyeing the money pouch, Earth Rat gulped and clenched his teeth. “If you’re serious, there’s a path. Dangerous, but exists. Your choice.”
Zuo Meng waited silently.
“Black Tiger Forest near Jiang’an City’s outskirts holds the Fierce Tiger Stronghold. Sounds generic, but it’s actually the playground of Black Wind’s third disciple, Situ Nan. Every March, he ‘selects disciples’ there—really just seeking entertainment. The stronghold recruits bandits in early March, hosting a ‘One in a Million’ trial. Toss candidates into beast swarms. Survivors become Situ Nan’s registered disciples, earning entry to Heifeng Fort to meet Human Respect, Black Wind himself.”
One in a million?
This wasn’t danger—it was suicide. Even with Zuo Meng’s current skills, surviving a beast horde seemed doubtful.
“Don’t scoff. Crowds fight for this chance. The Three Great Lords’ fame drives immortality cravings. I’ve got a Fierce Tiger token here. Yours if you want it.”
Earth Rat slapped a black Token on the table. The message was clear: take the Token, leave the coins.
“Deal.”
Zuo Meng snatched the Token and left.
Earth Rat pocketed the coins and vanished into the crowd.
Dawn broke.
Zuo Meng awoke in the inn bed.
“Still no dreams?” He frowned by the windowsill. He’d hoped to reenter the Dream World, seeking powers bleeding into the real world. But weeks had passed without dreams. The Dragon Clan civilization had likely ended after the Wilderness Resurgence, birthing a new epoch.
“Wait longer.”
Grabbing his Long Sword, he descended alone.
The Fierce Tiger Stronghold lurked in suburban woods. Following Earth Rat’s directions along narrow paths, Zuo Meng advanced. Three months of partnership proved Earth Rat’s reliability, but deception mattered little—Heifeng Fort’s territory supposedly began here.
Soon, rushing water echoed ahead.
Pushing through foliage revealed a turbulent, muddy river.
“Hey, another corpse-to-be.”
A fishing boat slid from shadowed banks, steered by a scar-faced brute.
“Token?”
Zuo Meng tossed the Earth Rat-acquired Token. The brute examined it, stuffed it into his waist pouch, and jerked his chin in command.
“Get on the boat!”
Zuo Meng channeled his internal energy to his feet and leaped lightly onto the boat.
This display startled the boatman.
“Didn’t expect you to be skilled, but it changes nothing.”
The boatman soon regained composure, refusing further conversation as he rowed across the river.
“Get off.”
The brutish man steadied the boat, jerking his chin toward the shore.
“Here?”
When Zuo Meng turned after disembarking, the boatman had already left without a backward glance.
“Started already?”
Within steps, Zuo Meng caught the rancid smell of blood and saw beast-mauled corpses. The Fierce Tiger Stronghold’s ruthlessness surprised him—no warnings, no rules, just dumping recruits across the river. Careless ones would die ignorant of their mistakes.
Seeing no retreat, Zuo Meng pressed forward cautiously.
Corpses littered the path—men and beasts locked in eternal combat. The scale suggested fierce battles.
“Poison?”
By a pile of beast carcasses, Zuo Meng spotted traces of deadly poison. An expert toxin-user lurked nearby.
“Fresh meat arrives.”
Before Zuo Meng could straighten, voices rasped behind him.
Four men now blocked his retreat, standing at cardinal points. Victorious survivors of earlier fights, each exuded powerful energy. Zuo Meng rose slowly, internal energy circulating.
“Time to die, brat! Next life, learn—some chances aren’t yours to take.” A dwarf-like youth blurred into motion, becoming a Phantom Shadow.
But!
Zuo Meng moved quicker.
Three decades of internal energy erupted like shooting stars, etching white trails through air.
Thwack!
The dwarf’s head arced skyward, blood raining down. The skull bounced near the others, dead eyes gaping.
“Fast blade.”
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The survivors froze. Their leader’s pupils contracted as he stared at Zuo Meng’s blood-slicked Long Sword.
“Monstrous energy.”
This single strike cowed the trio. None dared attack.