The moment Si Ming pressed the glowing "Travel" button on the system interface, the world around him began to shift. The stable, the Sacred Beasts, the stench of dung—all of it dissolved into a swirling vortex of light and shadow. His vision blurred, and his body felt weightless, as though he were being pulled through the fabric of reality itself. Then, with a sudden jolt, he landed on solid ground.
Si Ming blinked, his eyes adjusting to the new surroundings. He found himself standing at the entrance of a bustling city. Towering stone walls loomed above him, their surfaces etched with intricate carvings that seemed to hum with an unfamiliar energy. The air was thick with the chatter of a crowd, and the streets were alive with activity. Merchants peddled their wares, children darted between stalls, and armored sentries patrolled the gates. Yet something felt... off.
"This place," Si Ming muttered, his brow furrowing. "It feels more like one of those fantasy worlds of magic than a cultivation realm." He scanned the crowd, his senses on high alert. The people here were vibrant and full of life, but there was no trace of Qi emanating from them. Instead, he felt a different kind of energy—a strange, pulsating force that seemed to flow through the air like an invisible current.
Before he could dwell on it further, the system interface popped up in front of him, its crimson glow drawing his attention.
"Congratulations, Host, on your first successful travel!"
Si Ming's lips twitched into a wry smile. "Yeah, thanks for the warm welcome," he muttered sarcastically.
The system continued, displaying the same prompt he had read earlier:
"Objective: Slay the hero of this world and claim his power as your own."
Si Ming sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So the objective is still the same," he said, his voice laced with irritation. "But how am I supposed to know who this so-called hero even is?"
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden commotion. Foreign voices shouted in a language he couldn't understand, and he turned to see a group of sentries pointing their spears at him. Their expressions were a mix of fear and hostility, and their words were sharp and accusatory.
"What is this?" Si Ming muttered, his confusion mounting. "What the hell is going on?"
One of the guards, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward and drew his sword. Without warning, he lunged at Si Ming, his blade gleaming in the sunlight.
Si Ming's instincts kicked in. He sidestepped the attack with ease, his movements fluid and precise. In the same motion, he grabbed the guard's wrist and twisted, forcing the sword from his grasp. The weapon clattered to the ground, and Si Ming held the disarmed man at bay with a firm grip.
"What's the big deal here?" Si Ming demanded, his voice rising. "I just arrived, and you guys are already attacking me?"
The other sentries exchanged uneasy glances, clearly shocked by how effortlessly Si Ming had neutralized their comrade. One of them, a younger guard with a trembling spear, shouted, "Halt, you foul demon!"
Si Ming blinked, his expression one of utter bewilderment. "Wait, do you mean me?" he asked, almost dumbfounded.
"Don't let it fool you!" another guard yelled. "Strike it down before it can unleash its spells!"
The sentries charged, their weapons gleaming as they closed in on Si Ming. He dodged their attacks with practiced ease, his movements a blur of precision and grace. But one thing was unmistakable: the bloodlust radiating from these men. It was a sensation Si Ming knew all too well, honed through fifty years of survival in the brutal world of cultivation.
"So that's how it is," Si Ming muttered, his expression darkening. He threw the group of guards off of him with a burst of strength, sending them sprawling to the ground. "I was kind of reluctant about the system's prompts, but from how this looks, it's either kill or be killed."
He reached into his storage ring and pulled out a sword—a simple yet sturdy blade that had seen its fair share of battles. Si Ming gripped the hilt tightly, his stance firm and resolute. "If that's the case," he said, his voice cold and steady, "then I'd rather be the one doing the killing."
The sentries scrambled to their feet, their faces a mix of fear and determination. Bystanders screamed and fled, the chaos spreading like wildfire through the crowded streets. Si Ming glanced around, his eyes narrowing. "This is bad," he muttered. "More guards will be here soon."
Then he remembered the system's earlier notification: he could claim the abilities of those he killed. A grim smile spread across his face. "If that's the case," he said, "then this might actually work in my favor. The protagonist will surely be drawn to this chaos. All I have to do is grow stronger in the meantime."
With that, Si Ming dashed forward, his sword gleaming as he closed the distance between himself and the sentries. He leaped into the air, twisting his body mid-flight, and brought his blade down in a horizontal slash. The first sentry barely had time to react before the sword cut through him, his body crumpling to the ground.
The remaining guards quickly regrouped, forming a defensive formation. They stood in a tight circle, shields raised and spears bristling outward like the spines of a porcupine. Si Ming recognized the tactic immediately—it was a classic phalanx formation, designed to repel attackers from all sides.
From the distance, the sound of clanging armor and hurried footsteps reached Si Ming's ears. Reinforcements were on their way. "No time to waste," he muttered, his grip tightening on his sword.
He charged at the formation, his movements swift and unpredictable. The sentries braced themselves, their shields absorbing the impact of his initial strike. The ground beneath them cracked from the force, but they held firm.
Si Ming let go of his sword momentarily, spinning on his heel to deliver a powerful kick to the shield of the sentry in the center. The shield flew upward, exposing the man behind it. Si Ming caught his falling sword with his left hand and thrust it into the exposed sentry's neck. The man gasped, his body withering into a dried husk as the system's interface appeared once more.
"Foe slain. Combat knowledge and energy absorbed. Converting energy... Success. Mana converted into Qi."
Si Ming barely had time to process the notification before the remaining sentries attacked. He turned, his sword held in a reverse grip, and slashed downward at an angle, cutting through the sentry on his left. With a swift kick, he sent another guard flying, his body crashing into a nearby stall.
The remaining sentries hesitated, their confidence shaken by Si Ming's relentless assault. But their hesitation was short-lived. They regrouped, their formation shifting into a more aggressive stance. Shields were raised higher, and spears were thrust forward in unison, creating a deadly wall of steel.
Si Ming smirked, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Let's see how long you can hold out," he said, dashing forward once more.
He moved like a shadow, his sword a blur as he weaved through the sentries' defenses. With each strike, he grew more confident, his movements more precise. The system's notifications continued to flash before his eyes, each kill granting him new knowledge and power.
By the time the reinforcements arrived, the ground was littered with the bodies of fallen sentries. Si Ming stood amidst the carnage, his sword dripping with blood. He turned to face the new arrivals, his expression cold and unyielding.
"And that," he said, his voice echoing through the now-silent streets, "is how I slaughtered an entire city."
Also, if you enjoy my writing and want to support me, consider subscribing to my Patreon: [patreon.com/Writing_when_bored].