The words hit Qiao Dong like a physical blow, but he reined in his shock, leaning in to ask in a hushed tone, "Centurion, who do you need me to kill?"
Qiao Mingxuan's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "You don't need to know his name. Not yet. First, you awaken your Martial Veins. But I'll tell you this—he's standing in the town square right now."
Qiao Dong wasn't an idiot. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots. It had to be Xiao Ke.
The whole town had seen Xiao Ke humiliate Qiao Mingxuan's men just yesterday. The idea that a Centurion would just let that slide? Unthinkable.
Qiao Dong and Xiao Ke were both Decurions in the Orca Battalion, but their reputations were worlds apart. Among the old guard, Qiao Dong was the undisputed top dog. He'd even killed a Decurion back when he was a grunt. The thought of adding Xiao Ke to that list didn't bother him in the slightest.
The only real problem was the fallout. How could he take out Xiao Ke without bringing the wrath of Chiliarch Qin Bing down on his head?
"Understood, Lord Centurion," Qiao Dong said, his voice a low rumble.
Qiao Mingxuan gave him a look of cold approval, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He jabbed a finger into Qiao Dong's chest. "Be at the tavern this afternoon. I'll handle the awakening for you."
"Yes, my lord!"
As Qiao Mingxuan and his lackeys walked away, they deliberately paused in front of Xiao Ke. A cruel smirk played on the Centurion's lips. "Kid, I have a long memory. And you've made quite the impression. You're a dead man."
He didn't wait for a reaction, just laughed and strode off, leaving Xiao Ke, Duan Canglong, and Luo Hou fuming in his wake.
Xiao Ke watched him go, a deep frown creasing his brow. That level of arrogance meant Qiao Mingxuan had something nasty up his sleeve.
"That son of a bitch," Duan Canglong snarled, his hands clenched into fists. "He steals our credit, then struts around like he owns the place."
"Let him enjoy it for now," Xiao Ke said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "His day will come. For now, we train."
"Yes, Captain!"
An hour later, morning training wrapped up. As the other squads headed back to the Orca camp for lunch, Qiao Dong quietly told his deputies to take the lead. He slipped away, heading for the only tavern in town.
With the Wolf Pack mercenaries gone and the merchants having cleared out, the place was a ghost of its former self. Only one table was occupied—Qiao Mingxuan and his men.
Qiao Dong practically tripped over himself to get there, bowing his head. "Lord Centurion."
Qiao Mingxuan glanced up. "You're here. Sit."
The moment Qiao Dong sat, one of the guards slid two items across the scarred wooden table: a vial of shimmering liquid—the Martial Vein Awakening Potion—and a thin manual, the Tiger Valor Art.
"I'm not a patient man," Qiao Mingxuan said, his voice sharp. "Especially not when it comes to settling scores. So don't waste my time. Awaken your veins now. Then, every night, you come to my camp. My men will pump you full of Potential Catalyst Potions. In three days, you'll be a Rank 3 Battle Soldier."
"Thank you, my lord! Thank you!" Qiao Dong was ecstatic, the words tumbling out of his mouth.
Rank 3. That was elite soldier territory. A man with that kind of power was a hot commodity in any legion.
Qiao Mingxuan waved a dismissive hand. "Get out of here. Awaken your veins, get yourself to Rank 1, then come find me tonight."
"Yes, my lord. I'll take my leave."
Clutching his gifts like sacred relics, Qiao Dong hurried out. He was so blinded by his good fortune that he didn't hear the conversation that started the second he was gone.
"Look at him, practically glowing," one of the guards sneered. "He has no idea, does he? Sure, the catalyst potions will skyrocket his power, but the crash is coming. He'll hit a wall so hard he'll never improve again. If he's lucky, that's all that will happen. His body could just break down. He's basically trading his entire future for a few days of glory."
The other guard shrugged. "Who cares? As long as he takes care of Xiao Ke for the Centurion, his fate is his own problem. Besides, without the Lord's help, he'd be lucky to ever see Rank 3. If you ask me, he should be grateful."
"You're right. He owes the Centurion everything."
The sycophantic praise washed over Qiao Mingxuan, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. He loved this—the feeling of being the puppet master, of pulling the strings of fate. He had just sealed the destinies of two men, Qiao Dong and Xiao Ke, with a few words and a vial of potion. The power was intoxicating.
Unseen by the men in the tavern, the owner had watched the entire exchange. As soon as Qiao Dong left, he slipped out and made his way to the town master, Hu Benan.
Hu Benan knew trouble when he heard it. Qiao Dong was Qin Bing's man, part of the Orca Battalion. A private meeting with a Centurion from the rival White Shark Battalion was more than unusual; it was a breach of protocol. And with Qin Bing's standing orders to report anything out of the ordinary, he didn't hesitate. He went straight to the Chiliarch.
Qin Bing listened to his report, her expression unreadable, and dismissed him with a nod.
As Hu Benan stepped out of her office, he nearly collided with Qiao Dong, who was knocking on the door. "Reporting!" Qiao Dong called out.
"Enter," Qin Bing's voice came from within.
"Yes, ma'am!"
Qin Bing closed a folder on her desk, her eyes sharp as she studied him. "What is it?"
Qiao Dong's eyes darted around the room. "Ma'am, I have an upset stomach. I'd like to request the afternoon off to rest." It was a lie, of course. The potion was already coursing through him, his Martial Veins humming with newfound energy. He was desperate for time alone to cultivate his power and solidify his new status as a Rank 1 Battle Soldier.
Qin Bing watched him, her gaze unwavering. She saw the lie in his eyes. Then she caught it—a faint, chemical scent clinging to him. She knew that smell anywhere. Martial Vein Awakening Potion.
It all clicked into place: Hu Benan's report, Qiao Dong's sudden "illness." Qiao Mingxuan had given him the potion, and now the fool was trying to sneak away to train.
A ghost of a smile touched Qin Bing's lips. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small crate. Inside were at least a dozen awakening potions and copies of the Tiger Valor Art.
"You can have your leave," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "But it's a shame you'll be missing the afternoon's activity. I was just about to have all fifteen Decurions awaken their Martial Veins. Here," she slid a potion and a manual across the desk. "Take one. Train on your own. If you have questions, ask me. And remember—once you've memorized the text, burn it. Leaking military cultivation secrets is a capital offense."
Qiao Dong stared at the items on the desk, and his face soured. The treasures he had just debased himself for were being handed out like party favors.
But then he remembered Qiao Mingxuan's other promise—the promise of Rank 3. That was still something. Most soldiers, even after awakening, would toil for years to reach that level. This was a shortcut, a golden opportunity.
"Thank you for your guidance, ma'am!" he managed to choke out.
He grabbed the potion and book and turned to leave, but Qin Bing's voice stopped him. "On your way out, tell the other Decurions to report to my office."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Within minutes, the rest of the Decurions, including Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, were flooding into Qin Bing's office, leaving with the same items Qiao Dong had received. A wave of energy and excitement swept through the camp.
Then came the real bombshell. Qin Bing announced that in three days, all fifteen of them would compete. The winner would be promoted to Centurion and take command of the Orca Battalion.
The camp erupted. Every Decurion, from Duan Canglong to the newest rookie, saw a path to power open before them. The air crackled with ambition.
That afternoon, Qiao Dong officially became a Rank 1 Battle Soldier. That night, under the cover of darkness, he slipped into Qiao Mingxuan's camp. He gritted his teeth as the needles slid into his arm, flooding his system with the raw, unstable power of the catalyst potions. By the time he snuck back to his own barracks, the second node of his Martial Veins had ignited. He was a Rank 2 Battle Soldier.
As he crept past a neighboring dormitory, he overheard two other Decurions talking in hushed tones.
"Man, hitting Rank 1 was easy, but this second node is a killer. It's going to take me three months, at least."
"Tell me about it. No way I'll be Rank 2 in time for the competition. My shot at Centurion is looking pretty slim."
A cruel smile spread across Qiao Dong's face. Slim? You have no shot at all. He thought. Tomorrow night, I'll be Rank 3. This competition is already mine. And when I face Xiao Ke on that stage, my hand will just happen to 'slip.' Two birds, one stone.
While Qiao Dong was lost in his triumphant fantasies, Xiao Ke was alone in Qin Bing's private training room, pushing himself to the absolute limit. He, too, had become a Rank 1 Battle Soldier that day. He knew reaching Rank 2 would take time—at least ten days by his own calculations, as each node required exponentially more energy.
But Xiao Ke had an ace up his sleeve. While others focused solely on their Martial Veins, he had 205 other sources of power waiting to be unlocked: his bones.
The previous night, he had managed to light up a single vertebra in his spine, and the surge in strength had been immediate and undeniable. The selection competition was in three days. If he could light up just one or two more bones before then…
He was in his meditative state, the spiritual space he could access through sheer willpower. He held a low lunge, his muscles screaming as he supported the weight of an imaginary, impossibly large boulder. Sweat streamed down his face, his arms felt like cooked noodles, but he held on, his teeth clenched.
Just a little longer… hold on just a little longer…