Chapter 12: Night Raid

After the speed test came the neural response assessment. The procedure was simple: dodge colored balls. In a dark room, participants donned thin white coats and stood at the center, evading colored balls that shot out unexpectedly from all directions. If you were hit by fewer than five balls in a minute, you passed.

For Tang Mubai, with his agility at five and perception at two, it was effortless. He didn't even exert himself fully, and after a minute, only two black marks were left on his coat. The others looked on with envy.

It seemed the "Spirit Fruit" Tang Mubai had consumed not only increased his strength but also enhanced his mental acuity. To this, Tang Mubai merely smiled and said nothing, tacitly confirming their assumptions.

From nine in the morning until noon, over a hundred people were busy with the tests. Yet when all was done, only about twenty percent had passed. Many missed the mark by a hair’s breadth, but whether due to nerves or bad luck, that final step eluded them.

Watching the uncles and aunts who had arrived brimming with confidence now leaving dejected and hollow-eyed, Tang Mubai couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

"One step separates amateur from professional, but the results are worlds apart."

"It seems in any world, strength rules all!"

Two Earths. One revered money, the other revered martial strength. Tang Mubai couldn't say which he preferred, but for now, this new world wasn’t bad at all.

The combat assessment would be held in two days. This was a relief. Until now, he had only considered passing the professional warrior exam and obtaining the certificate. He had forgotten that the three assessments—vitality, physical fitness, and combat—weren’t all conducted on the same day. The first two could be taken any weekday at the Martial Association, but the final combat test was held at the end of the month.

Had he not improved all his abilities in just six days to surpass the requirements, he would have missed the deadline if he’d waited until the tenth day to register. Luck was on his side this time, and he felt much more at ease.

Leaving the Martial Association, Tang Mubai drove to Miracle Restaurant, ordered a fine meal from the kitchen, and dined alone in celebration. Afterward, he made rounds near several hospitals, then spent the afternoon working at Fortune Slaughterhouse. By evening, he picked up his little cousin and took her home.

That night, he drove around as usual, harvesting another wave of lost vitality. When it was time, he returned to his room, lay on the bed, opened his system panel, and was pondering which attribute to enhance when a strange noise caught his ear.

"Someone's outside!"

His ears pricked up. Tang Mubai rose swiftly, left his bedroom, and as he passed through the living room, took down a bow and three arrows hanging on the wall. Standing close behind the door, he listened intently for movement outside. Hearing nothing, he quietly opened the door a crack, slipped through with his bow ready, and closed it again without a sound.

He moved silently down the corridor, bow and arrow in hand, using his "Light Steps" technique, heading for the stairwell. The Miracle Mercenary Group's base consisted of four buildings, each six stories high. Tang Mubai lived on the fifth floor of the eastern building. He made for the first floor, but as he reached the third, he spotted two masked figures clad in black, gliding up the stairwell without a sound.

"Gentlemen, what business brings you here so late at night?" Tang Mubai called out in a low voice, bow drawn, arrow aimed at the pair.

Both men froze, clearly surprised to have been discovered so quickly. After a brief shock, the one in front suddenly lunged upward at Tang Mubai in a flash, murderous intent bursting forth and filling the corridor with a chilling aura.

"Courting death!" Tang Mubai snarled, feeling the icy killing intent. He let the arrow fly.

A shrill whistle split the air.

The arrow sliced through flesh with a sickening sound, and a spray of blood erupted. The masked man who had charged him took the arrow in the chest and was thrown back down to the second floor, crashing heavily to the ground.

He wasn’t dead yet; blood gushed from his mask as his body twitched. Wide-eyed with terror, he managed to gasp, "He... he’s a professional warrior!"

"What? He’s a professional warrior?" the other black-clad man exclaimed in disbelief, his voice hoarse and stunned. To shoot someone flying with a single arrow—no amateur could do that!

"Who are you?" Tang Mubai nocked a second arrow, coldly aiming at the intruder. "What business do you have in the Miracle Mercenary Group?"

"To take your life, of course!" the man growled, drawing two daggers from his waist and leaping up the stairs, blades flashing coldly.

Tang Mubai loosed the arrow, then drew and shot a third with lightning speed. Both arrows flew in less than half a second.

The man dodged the first arrow but not the second, which struck his shoulder and, like his companion, sent him crashing back down to the hard floor below.

"This... how is this possible?" the wounded man snarled, struggling to his feet, eyes burning with rage. "You couldn’t even qualify for Martial University a few days ago—how did you become a professional warrior so quickly?"

"You want to know?" Tang Mubai’s lip curled as he advanced, bow in hand.

Couldn’t even qualify for Martial University... What a slap in the face!

"No, never mind," the man replied bitterly, and in one desperate move, vaulted over the second-floor railing toward the ground.

"Trying to run?" Tang Mubai sprinted to the second-floor landing, yanked the arrow from the first assailant's chest, nocked it, and fired at the fleeing figure below.

The arrow flew true and struck the man’s thigh, sending him sprawling.

"Attempted murder and now you want to escape? Dream on!" Tang Mubai slung his bow over his shoulder, knocked out the bleeding man with a kick, then jumped down to the entrance.

Like grabbing a chicken, he hauled the would-be escapee by the neck back into the empty first-floor hall, switching on the lights. He returned to the second floor for the unconscious one, dragging him down as well.

Just as he was about to interrogate them, Xu Dalü, having heard the commotion, rushed down and stopped short at the sight of the two black-clad men.

"What happened, Captain? Who are they?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"I'd like to know that myself," Tang Mubai replied, tearing the masks from the men, revealing two pale, grim-faced middle-aged men. He sneered, "These two knew who I was, and their intention from the start was to kill..."

"Luo Mingchang, it’s you!"