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Lin Feng silently recited in his heart: Repair.

In an instant, the system repaired the battle sword.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, a burning sensation came from his palm, and dark golden patterns spread from the hilt to the blade, with spiritual runes lighting up one after another.

The entire process took less than a breath.

The burly man was still uttering the phrase "know when to yield" when Raymond Lam had already drawn his knife.

There were no unnecessary movements; it was just a simple downward chop.

The burly man reacted quickly, drawing half of the knife from his waist and holding it horizontally in front of him.

Knives clashing.

Lin Feng's knife moves with a silky smoothness, without any resistance.

Along with the person behind the knife, there was a diagonal line from the left shoulder to the right hip.

The burly man's body was split in two and fell onto the steps, splattering blood and foam all over the stone slabs.

From drawing the sword to sheathing it, it took less than half a second.

The noisy crowd in the pit-bottom plaza fell silent for a moment.

Several martial artists passing by glanced at it, then quickly turned their faces away, quickening their pace and pretending they hadn't seen anything.

In the black market, a dead person is no different than a dead dog.

Wang Tie's mouth was open, but not a single word came out.

He was just saying "I'll buy a useless knife for 780,000," but the moment he used that useless knife, he cleaved him and the weapon in two.

Damn, no wonder it's rated A.

The remaining two reacted much faster.

The tall, thin man's legs went weak for a second, then he turned around abruptly and frantically darted into the side alley.

The short, stout one was even more decisive; he didn't even bother to turn around, and ran backwards, knocking over a roadside grocery stall.

Lin Feng glanced at the tall, thin man and shouted at Wang Tie, "The short one is yours."

The words had barely left his mouth when he darted out.

The tall, thin man ran for his life, but even a martial artist at the first level could only walk at Lin Feng's speed.

Catch up in three steps.

With a sweeping motion, the tall, thin man's head was still looking ahead at the road, but a half-foot-long gash had appeared on the back of his neck.

The person slid two meters across the ground, their fingers twitching twice as they dug into the cracks in the stone slab, then remained still.

[Steel of the Blade: 86/500]

Lin Feng shook the blood off his knife and looked back at Wang Tie.

Although Wang Tie was a chatterbox, he was ruthless when it came to fighting. The short, fat man was only a ninth-level martial arts apprentice. He tripped over the overturned stall and had barely stood up when Wang Tie stabbed him in the lower back.

The short, fat man screamed and tried to struggle, but Wang Tie twisted the knife and slashed it horizontally, and the man stopped moving.

In total, it took less than ten seconds for all three of them to lie down.

Wang Tie pulled the knife from the short, fat man, wiped the blood off, glanced back at the burly man who had been cleaved in two on the steps, then looked at the long knife with flowing dark gold patterns in Lin Feng's hand, and swallowed hard.

"Isn't your knife broken?"

Lin Feng put the cracked mountain back into the wooden box and casually closed the lid.

"It's fixed."

"When was it repaired?"

"Just now."

Wang Tie's mind raced for a moment, but he still couldn't figure it out. What did "just now" mean? Weren't you just talking to the burly man?

But Lin Feng had already squatted down and started rummaging through the burly man's belongings.

There's no such thing as calling the police in the black market; if someone dies, the spoils go to the winner.

This is the rule, and the only rule in this place.

A considerable amount of stuff was found on the burly man.

A storage bag containing three E-grade magic cores, two bottles of unmarked pills, and a cash card worth over 70,000 yuan.

This guy has probably been doing this kind of roadside smuggling on the black market for a while now, and he's probably amassed quite a lot.

The tall, thin guy had less than one item: an E-grade magic core and 20,000 yuan in cash.

The short, fat man was the poorest; he only had eight thousand yuan and a dagger in his pocket, and the dagger was a piece of junk.

The three people's belongings were piled together, and Lin Feng took inventory of them.

"Four E-grade magic cores, two bottles of some unknown medicine, a little over 100,000 in cash, and some loose change."

Wang Tie rubbed his hands together, both excited and nervous, turning his head left and right to look around, afraid that someone would come to cause trouble again.

"How do we divide these?"

Three portions.

"Three portions?" Wang Tie was taken aback. "Aren't there two of us?"

"Li Ming is guarding the camp for us, so count him in."

Wang Tie exclaimed "Ah!", thought for a moment, and nodded.

"Alright, that kid did help."

Lin Feng divided the magic cores and cash into three piles, trying to distribute them as evenly as possible.

The two bottles of pills are hard to divide, so let's keep them for now and have them appraised later.

The three piles of things were wrapped in cloth. Lin Feng stuffed Li Ming's share into the bottom of the box, kept his own share, and handed the rest to Wang Tie.

Wang Tie took it, weighed it in his hand, chuckled twice, then seemed to remember something and stopped laughing.

"Brother Lin, that stab you made was really scary."

"Um."

"You cleaved a third-stage martial artist in two with one strike, along with his weapon, which was a D-grade sword."

Lin Feng picked up the box and walked up the steps.

"Let's go back to camp."

Wang Tie quickly followed, his mouth never stopping.

"What level are you at exactly? Weren't you only at the second stage before? A second-stage cultivator who can slice through a third stage with a single strike? Or is your sword just too powerful?"

Lin Feng didn't respond.

To be honest, he himself was a little surprised by that stab.

After the mountain was repaired, the feeling of blood and qi flowing into it was completely different. The blade seemed to come alive, and the power it output was amplified by at least 30%. Wherever the blade passed, even the air was torn open.

The power of a C-grade weapon is indeed incomparable to that of a D-grade weapon.

Coupled with his innate strength, he has far surpassed other martial artists of the same level.

But I can't tell Wang Tie these things.

The two walked up the steps, passed through three hidden doors, and returned to the ground.

After walking for about twenty minutes, we could see the military camp fence in the distance.

Li Ming was squatting at the camp gate, munching on a piece of dried meat he had somehow gotten his hands on. When he saw the two men return, he jumped up and went to greet them.

"You're finally back! I thought you'd been hacked."

"Almost." Wang Tie rolled his eyes. "Three fools blocked the way, and Brother Lin chopped them down with one stroke."

"One slash?" Li Ming's eyes widened.

"One slash. The man and the sword, cleaved in two." Wang Tie gestured, "Just like that, with a whoosh."

Li Ming looked at Lin Feng, then at the wooden box tucked under his arm.

Lin Feng opened the box and handed him the portion that had been divided.

"This is yours."

Li Ming looked down and saw magic cores, cash, and some miscellaneous items.

"Me too?"

"You've helped us watch our things, so you'll be well compensated."

Li Ming opened his mouth, his hand trembling slightly as he took the item.

He spent almost two months in the recruit camp, but he didn't get to share the spoils or even go on field missions more than a few times. He only received a fixed salary each month.

"Brother Lin, you're a true friend."

"Don't call me Brother Lin, just call me Lin Feng."

"Brother Lin!"

Lin Feng was too lazy to correct him.

The three returned to the barracks and packed up.

Lin Feng took the Rift Mountain Blade out of the box, placed it against the bed, and checked the blade again.

Dark golden spirit patterns flowed around the blade, and the chipped edges on the blade disappeared completely after being repaired, leaving the edge smooth and sharp.

The scabbard, however, was still rotten.

I need to find some time to get a new sheath.

He was examining the knife when there was a knock on the barracks door.

Three sounds, neither hurried nor slow.

Wang Tie poked his head out of bed: "Who is it?"

An unfamiliar voice came from outside the door.

"Excuse me, is Lin Feng here? Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao requests your presence."

Wang Tie and Li Ming exchanged a glance.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao?

He was the number two figure in the entire garrison, a person you might not even see in a meeting.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao personally sent someone to summon a new recruit who had been in the camp for less than a week.

Li Ming muttered under his breath, "Did you get into trouble? Did you kill someone on the black market and get reported?"

Wang Tie shook his head: "There's no such rule in the black market. If you die, it's a waste of your life."

Lin Feng put Lieshan under his pillow, stood up, and patted the dust off his clothes.

"Yes, I'll go with you."

A middle-aged man in military uniform, with the insignia of a lieutenant on his shoulder, stood outside the door. He glanced at Lin Feng expressionlessly, then turned and led the way.

The two walked through the camp for five or six minutes until they arrived at a separate tent.

The lieutenant stopped at the door.

"Go in, the deputy battalion commander is waiting for you inside."

Lin Feng pushed open the door and went in.

The room was small, with a table, two chairs, and a map of the North hanging on the wall.

Behind the table sat a man in his forties, with a square face, high brow bones, and two bars and three stars on his military uniform, the rank of colonel.

There was a folder next to him, and on the open page was a photograph.

A photo of Raymond Lam.

"sit."

Lin Feng pulled out a chair and sat down.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao closed the folder, crossed his hands on the table, and scanned Lin Feng up and down twice.

"Lin Feng, eighteen years old, second-level martial artist, arrived in the Northern Territory three days ago and was assigned to the Seventh Patrol Team."

He paused for a moment.

"On my first day here, I single-handedly killed six F-rank alien beasts, and then investigated the mutated F-rank rift..."

He paused again.

"Yesterday, the corrupt official Zhao Tianxiong was executed."

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao raised his head and stared at Lin Feng.

Lin Feng did not respond.

Deputy Battalion Commander Zhao pulled another document from under the table and pushed it in front of Lin Feng.

Lin Feng glanced down at the document cover.

Four characters.

Class D crack.