Chapter Two: Slaughtering Pigs Makes Me Stronger

He picked up the first book—it was a manual on boxing techniques. Zhou Bai flipped through it, surprised by how authentic it seemed. The illustrations on each page resembled the martial arts manuals he’d seen in old wuxia films from his previous life, instantly piquing his curiosity.

Silently reciting a command in his heart, Zhou Bai saw a flicker of data stream before a simple system interface appeared before his eyes.

Displayed on it was:

Zhou Bai

Mastered: Butchery Technique (100%)

Points: 3

The function of this broken system was simply to use points to enhance one’s mastery of martial skills.

The only skill he had mastered, the “Butchery Technique,” was originally a tattered book passed down through generations of the Zhou family, who had been butchers. To put it plainly, it recorded various slaughtering techniques and an overview of different parts of a pig. At first, Zhou Bai had been overjoyed, as he’d discovered that this hefty tome, carefully preserved by his father, could be recognized by the system.

He’d thought it was some kind of martial arts secret manual, only to find it was just a butcher’s compendium.

After learning from it, and to test the system, he’d spent a point to fully master the skill—and as a result, a slew of slaughtering techniques flooded into his mind. Once the Butchery Technique hit 100%, his skill at butchering surpassed even his father’s, probably exceeding any butcher in all of Hangdu.

But it was ultimately useless, since points were extremely difficult to acquire—only killing living creatures would earn them, and Zhou Bai had gone hungry for several days, pained by the thought. These few precious points had cost him more than half a year, requiring him to slaughter dozens, even over a hundred pigs, and he’d noticed it was becoming increasingly difficult to earn points this way.

At first, every dozen pigs yielded a point, but the required number doubled each time, and now he was still a long way from his next point.

He’d tried killing other livestock, but pigs still yielded points more quickly.

This was evident from the system’s event log.

Killing a pig prompted: “Killed a common beast. Point accumulation increased slightly.”

Killing chickens or ducks, however, prompted: “Killed a common animal. Point accumulation increased by a trace.”

Zhou Bai strongly suspected this system was nothing more than a simplistic script from a game on his old computer.

With that thought, his expression grew helpless. He quickly flipped through the manual from cover to cover—nothing from the system.

“So much for a legendary martial arts manual! Damn!”

He realized the book in his hand was simply a fabricated manual—if anyone actually practiced from it, they’d spend a lifetime learning nothing but fancy, useless moves. No wonder the system didn’t recognize it as a martial skill.

Unwilling to give up, Zhou Bai opened the second book. This one described a set of mysterious footwork. Intrigued by martial arts, he unconsciously lost himself in the text.

But as before, when he reached the end, the system didn’t react at all. Zhou Bai could only give up.

He wasn’t discouraged, though; over the past year, he’d pored over countless books big and small, and his only gain had been the family’s butchery manual.

When he opened the final book, he harbored little hope. To him, this one seemed the least reliable—it taught methods of cheating at gambling by training one’s eyesight.

If it truly worked, its previous owner wouldn’t have pawned it off.

But to Zhou Bai’s surprise, after a quick read-through, the system actually recognized it.

“Learn: Keen Sight Technique?”

His heart leapt, and he was about to respond when two burly men appeared at the alley entrance, heading toward the butcher shop. Zhou Bai hurriedly tucked the book back into his jacket.

The system interface faded. Zhou Bai immediately recognized the two as well-known local thugs, both members of a gang called Seadog.

“Trouble,” he muttered to himself. In the chaotic northwest district, nothing could be done without crossing paths with the authorities or the gangs.

The leader, Cheng Hu, had a knife scar running across half his face and was missing a front tooth, making him look particularly rough. The smaller man behind him was clearly a lackey, someone Zhou Bai hadn’t seen before—his shifty eyes betrayed his nerves.

“Brother Bai, isn’t it about time you handed over this month’s protection fee?” Cheng Hu got straight to the point.

Zhou Bai hefted the cleaver in his hand. “Didn’t I just pay? It’s only been a dozen days.”

“It’s different now.” Cheng Hu shook his head, his gaze lingering on the cleaver for several seconds before his tone softened slightly.

“There was a major incident at the north gate—a wealthy family was wiped out overnight. The authorities say it was a vendetta.”

“Really a vendetta?” Zhou Bai instinctively gripped his cleaver tighter.

“Probably not.” Cheng Hu’s expression darkened, weariness and worry clouding his eyes. “In any case, it’s none of our business.”

Zhou Bai nodded. This world was far from peaceful. Hangdu was densely populated, yet every so often, something like this would happen—that was why he’d spent so much money seeking true martial arts manuals.

“What’s that got to do with you squeezing me for more money? I’m just running a tiny shop—where would I get spare cash?”

Cheng Hu’s face changed. He instinctively raised his right arm to slap the table, but catching sight of the cleaver in Zhou Bai’s hand, he thought better of it.

“There’s a curfew now, and you know, most of our gang’s business comes from the gambling dens.”

Clearly, these two mangy dogs wouldn’t let go until they’d bitten down to the bone. Zhou Bai simply tossed a few small silver pieces onto the table. “That’s all I have left—just two coins. It’s barely spring; where would I get extra money?”

He ignored the two and bent down to chop meat.

After all, he’d slaughtered livestock for a while now, and anger brought a certain murderous aura. Each swing of his cleaver made the two men flinch inwardly.

Cheng Hu pocketed the coins and, taking advantage of Zhou Bai’s distraction, swiped the two worthless manuals as well, signaling to his lackey before they hurried off.

By the time Zhou Bai noticed, he cursed under his breath. Those two books were useless, but he’d spent good money on them. What concerned him more, though, was the news Cheng Hu had brought.

“How could a whole family just vanish overnight? Hangdu may not be the capital, but there are always constables patrolling. A household of at least a dozen—how could they all die without a sound?”

He forced down his anxiety. Without witnessing it himself, it was hard to judge, but a sense of urgency was growing.

He took out the final manual once again, quickly flipping through it. The system prompt appeared, and, now undisturbed, he instantly chose to confirm.