A few days passed, settling into a grueling, monotonous rhythm. Whenever I wasn't doing mundane tasks around the Lin family compound, I spent every free second cultivating.
It was a humbling experience. I had worried about keeping a low profile, terrified that breaking through to the second tier of Body Strengthening too quickly would draw the greedy eyes of young masters or sect elders.
What a joke.
With my E-Rank talent and F-Rank understanding, gathering the world's spiritual energy felt like trying to drain a lake with a cracked bamboo straw. By the time I actually reached the second tier at this pace, I'd be an old man with gray hair. No one would bat an eye at an elderly second-tier guard.
But I couldn't afford to worry about the distant future. I had a more immediate problem: survival.
Currently, I was marching alongside a convoy of heavy wooden wagons, tasked with escorting the Lin family's most valuable shipment of the season to the Capital City. The sun beat down on my neck, and the dust kicked up by the draft horses coated my throat.
We were halfway through a notorious gorge when the caravan suddenly ground to a halt.
I gripped the hilt of my iron-ringed blade, my heart kicking into a frantic rhythm. Up ahead, blocking the narrow canyon path, stood a dozen men. They weren't dressed in rags like common thugs; they wore mismatched but functional leather armor, and several had crossbows leveled directly at us from the rocky ridges above.
"Stay calm, hold your formations," hissed Steward Ma, a plump man whose silk robes were already drenched in nervous sweat. He stepped forward, raising his hands peacefully.
"Friends of the road," Steward Ma called out, forcing a polite smile. "Fifty silver. That should be enough to pay the toll and let us pass safely, shouldn't it?"
The bandit leader, a lean man with a jagged scar cutting through his eyebrow, didn't smile. His eyes were cold, calculating the exact number of guards we had.
"Eighty percent of the goods in those wagons," the bandit replied, his voice flat.
Steward Ma paled. "That's impossible! We can't do that, it's too much. The absolute maximum we can offer is one hundred silver. That's thirty percent of the total worth. Please, we had an agreement signed with the Black Ridge brotherhood—"
"Who cares about an old piece of paper?" The bandit leader interrupted, drawing a curved saber. "Eighty percent, or you all die here. That is the only offer."
Before Steward Ma could even open his mouth to bargain further, the bandit leader lunged.
There was no battle cry. No dramatic monologue. It was a terrifyingly efficient strike aimed directly at the Steward's throat to break our morale instantly. A senior Lin guard barely managed to deflect the blow, the clash of steel ringing out like a death knell.
"Kill the guards! Fast!" the bandit leader barked. "Before the Capital patrols arrive!"
Chaos erupted. I immediately retreated two steps, putting my back against a wagon wheel to prevent getting flanked. I silently focused my mind, preparing the mental trigger for my Chrono-Simulation. If a blade gets within an inch of my vitals, I reset. I won't hesitate.
The bandits fought with brutal synergy. They didn't engage us one-on-one; they split into groups of three, isolating our stronger guards and cutting them down with terrifying speed. I parried a thrust from a spear-wielding bandit, the force of the blow jarring my elbows, and kicked sand into his eyes to force him back. I wasn't trying to be a hero. I just needed to stall.
Minutes dragged on like hours. Blood soaked the dusty road. Just as my forearms were beginning to go numb from deflecting blows, the sound of heavy armored hooves echoed from the far end of the gorge.
"Capital Vanguard!" one of the archers yelled from the ridge.
Without a single word, the bandit leader whistled sharply. The attackers immediately disengaged, grabbing whatever small lockboxes they could carry, and vanished into the rocky terrain just as the heavily armored Capital reinforcements arrived.
I slumped against the wagon, gasping for air, my hands trembling violently. I hadn't died. I didn't have to trigger the reset. The sheer relief nearly made my knees buckle.
But for the Lin family, it was a complete disaster. The bandits had torched two wagons during the retreat and stolen the most valuable crates.
Over the next week, I watched the Lin family crumble. This had been their biggest escort mission, financed heavily on credit. Without the goods, they couldn't repay their investors. The compound descended into panic. The stewards stopped giving orders, and more importantly, my weekly wage was indefinitely postponed.
I didn't hesitate. I packed my meager belongings—two spare tunics and my iron blade—and walked out the front gates.
I was no saint, and I had zero emotional attachment to this family. In a world where a single mistake meant death, tying myself to a sinking ship was suicide.
Using the small pouch of copper and silver I had saved up, I rented a cramped room at a cheap inn on the outskirts of the Capital. It bought me a roof over my head, but mere survival wasn't enough. If I wanted to afford the medicinal herbs and monster meat required to force my garbage talent to the second tier, I needed real money.
I spent the afternoon scouring the mercenary boards in the city's outer ring. Most jobs paid a pittance, but one posting caught my eye. It was highly dangerous, the kind of job that made veteran cultivators turn away.
But looking at the promised silver reward, I tightened my grip on my blade. I had the ultimate safety net, as terrifying as it was to use. It was time to take a risk.