To break free from this illusion, Wang Yu needed unwavering resolve—no distractions, no hesitation. Only by staying true to his purpose could he pass the trial.
This was a perfect place to test his Dao Heart.
The prisoner line marched faster now, and Wang Yu finally saw what lay ahead.
A long table. A general in a crimson cherry helmet. Two soldiers distributing weapons.
Wang Yu narrowed his eyes.
He was about to be drafted as cannon fodder—one of the first wave of disposable prisoners meant to exhaust the enemy's resources. This city was clearly preparing for war.
He recalled the mountain of corpses he'd seen when first touching the manacles.
Different battlefield, same nature.
"Follow the rules to survive… or break them."
He tested his body's strength—nothing. He was just an ordinary man. Not even the collar was suppressing him. This was simply the illusion's setting.
A mortal in a mortal war.
His weapon: a rusted, cobweb-covered spear.
No dialogue. No explanation. Just forced forward by circumstance. The prisoners around him trembled with fear.
"Survive using mortal skill alone…"
Wang Yu had few options. He sharpened his spear against the stone floor.
Two hours passed.
Night fell.
A cook brought buckets of thin porridge for the hundred prisoners in the crude barracks.
But before distribution began, war drums thundered. A surprise night raid had begun. The prisoners weren't sent to the walls.
Instead, they dismantled buildings, hauling stone and timber to reinforce the defenses.
Wang Yu felt the ache of labor—his back sore, his waist tight.
A siege.
Arrows and firebombs rained down. Screams echoed. The enemy neared the walls, but the defenders remained organized.
The overseers watched everyone. At the gate, hundreds of armored cavalry stood ready to charge.
Dawn broke.
The gates opened. The cavalry charged out—and didn't return.
Wang Yu and the others had barely rested when they were kicked awake.
This time—field battle.
—
As expected, once forced onto the battlefield, even Wang Yu's combat experience couldn't overcome the limits of a mortal body.
Especially surrounded by incompetent allies—some so dazed they stabbed their own comrades. He wanted to kill them himself.
No retreat. No breakthrough.
No armor. Before reaching the enemy lines, prisoners fell like wheat. Even in close combat, they collapsed instantly.
Still, they served a purpose—draining enemy stamina and disrupting formations.
Wang Yu killed twelve before four spears pierced his torso. Beaten to death.
He awoke—still aching.
Back in line.
Having gone through it once, he understood the illusion better.
"To defeat the enemy…"
He clenched his fists. This time, he took initiative—sneaking onto the walls, observing enemy movements, even sounding the drums early.
The siege ended faster.
Even the cavalry failed to charge—he'd sabotaged the winch. His side gained an edge.
Next day, another field battle.
He hid near the overseers' limit, using fallen comrades as shields. He lasted long, killed fifty-four enemies—
Then died again.
Third cycle.
Wang Yu rubbed his head and sighed. "Snipers. Can't stand out too much."
Contacting the city's commanders? Impossible. They were nowhere to be found.
This time, he played it safe. Barely fought. But once most prisoners died, the army advanced—and he had nowhere to hide.
Fourth. Fifth… Eighth cycle.
Wang Yu was locked in a grudge match with this war. His combat skill grew.
Outside the illusion—
Each cycle moved his real body one step forward. The dark corridor was long—at least a thousand steps to escape.
Inside, Wang Yu wasn't frustrated. He treated it as training. If he passed, his mental state would evolve.
And if not—he had ways to force an exit.
By the ninth cycle, his weapons kept breaking. He resorted to bare fists—harder still. Punching armored soldiers was nearly impossible.
Tenth cycle—he looted enemy gear.
Fifteenth—after five stubborn deaths, even stolen weapons broke. He realized the illusion had rules.
No weapons allowed. He had to harden his fists.
Twentieth… Thirtieth… He lost count of kills. He developed his own battlefield fist technique.
Then—he opened the placement panel.
Enough playing. Time to cheat.
A new option appeared:
[Battlefield Fist Technique (Placeable / Minor Asura Slaughter Fist)]
"What…"
He cleared the corpse refinement slot—and understood.
This wasn't his own creation. It was the manifestation of slaughter intent within the illusion—likely left by the sword cultivator of the immortal dynasty.
After so many cycles—
The more he killed, the more information he received. It felt like he'd discovered it himself. Wang Yu chuckled.
"Sigh… a sub-branch of the [Asura Saint-Slaying Canon], huh?"
Before he could finish the thought, the placement panel activated.
Every second, pure slaughter intent surged into him. No side effects.
It felt like his own refined killing intent—pure, powerful, perfectly aligned with him. He was certain.
[Placement Slot 3: Minor Asura Slaughter Fist (Divine Ability / Mind / Spirit Refinement)]
"Minor Asura Slaughter Fist (0/100): 86,400 practices per day, perfected in 20 years."
Wang Yu was stunned.
His first one-practice-per-second divine ability. No movement required. All training occurred in the mind realm—and it was a divine ability!
Only twenty years to master. But the practice count was insane.
Insights flooded his mind.
[Minor Asura Slaughter Fist: Created by ancient immortal "Asura Sovereign," merging mind and spirit refinement, seeded with Asura slaughter intent. The first dual-path divine ability.]
It was a seed.
Modern cultivation focused on spiritual energy. But in ancient times, it was called Spirit Refinement Path.
Not a pure mind technique—but half of one. Still an offensive divine ability.
Its effect resembled [Lunar Nether Eye]. Training it boosted mind power and granted mastery of Asura slaughter intent.
One punch—might make enemies wet themselves.
Wang Yu dubbed it: "The Social Death Punch."
"Filthy… so damn filthy! I love it!!!"
He'd scavenged a hidden gem. A lucky break. Most who broke the illusion probably didn't linger—they either fought or used trump cards to escape.
Wang Yu arrived at the perfect time. No competition.
He took his time, treated it as training, and had decent talent. He grasped the basics and used the placement panel to master it.
After acquiring this rare divine ability, he lacked the spiritual power to activate it. Using true essence felt off. Only the nearly tangible slaughter intent had real impact.
Its current power was below [Profound Yin Palm], but with time—or full mastery—it would unleash true might.
With this mystery absorbed, the illusion shattered.
Wang Yu opened his eyes—only thirty steps from the entrance. Matching his cycle count. The formation glyphs on the walls dimmed.
As if drained of power. Wang Yu summoned the stone book from his robes.
This time, the wall released red mist—Asura slaughter intent—into the book.
Soon—
The phenomena ceased. He flipped through the pages.
Pages 7–14 lit up. The text was unreadable, but he knew it recorded the Minor Asura Slaughter Fist—and something more.
He memorized every glyph, then reopened the placement panel. His smile turned genuine.
"As expected. I can't read it—but the panel can."
Just like at Blackbone Mountain—
He'd bugged the system to place [Soul-Devouring Evil Armor Technique]. Now, he did it again.
After a temporary swap, two new placeable items appeared:
[Placement Slot 4: Sword of Killing Intent (Mind Technique / No Grade)]
"Sword of Killing Intent (100/100): Nothing left to evolve."
A technique using Asura slaughter intent. Like a skill—once known, it was mastered. Like instinctively throwing a punch.
The stronger the slaughter intent, the stronger the technique. No upper limit.
Just like a stronger body meant stronger punches—same principle. Not complex.
But the second item—
Was far more intriguing. It reminded Wang Yu of Jin Miaoshan.
(End of Chapter)
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