Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Therefore, once the mind is clear, strength increases significantly.

When Zhang Qiliang's physical condition reached the initial standard of 1.9, possessing nearly ten times the comprehensive qualities of an ordinary person, dealing with a vicious dog attack in an urban village with sparse surveillance and weak order still posed considerable risks for him—he might be surrounded and beaten, or there might be yamen runners passing by.

Therefore, his thoughts became clear again, and his strength leaped forward once more.

However, what happens when his physical condition has reached 2.3 and his overall quality is nearly twenty times the standard of an average person?

What did he do?

He was still carefully avoiding the main surveillance areas.

He continued to choose to operate under the cover of night in remote areas with poor infrastructure and weak law enforcement.

His chosen targets were still things like splashing water while driving, which most people would consider trivial matters like "lack of manners."

An extraordinary person only dares to secretly kill a few mosquitoes that wake him up in the dead of night.

Forget about having a clear mind; what the hell is the difference between this and a rat in a sewer?

Their strength has increased, but their mentality remains huddled in the shell of an ordinary person. They are even more afraid of losing their power and more concerned about the consequences, becoming more timid and hesitant than when they were ordinary people!

How can one's thoughts become "clear"?

Mastering the Sword Manual and forging ahead without hesitation is the simultaneous eruption of mind and power, breaking through all shackles that hinder one's true nature.

In my current state, I have the power, but my mind is bound even more tightly than that of an ordinary person by the "risks," "troubles," and "consequences" that I have imagined, leaving me unable to move.

2.31... This is less a growth and more a silent mockery of Tongda Sword Scripture.

If this continues, this slight increase will likely disappear quickly, and may even lead to a backlash from the cultivation technique or its loss.

……

Back in the dormitory, my roommates Zhao, Qiangzi, and Xiaofang were already back.

Brother Zhao was leaning against the headboard, scrolling through short videos on the small table. Qiangzi was sprawled out on his lower bunk, playing games with the speakers blasting loud music. Xiao Fang was huddled by his own bed, silently fiddling with a broken headphone cable that was clearly past its expiration date, looking rather lonely.

When Zhang Qiliang entered, Brother Zhao looked up and smiled as a greeting, Qiangzi didn't even lift his eyelids, and Xiao Fang whispered "Brother Liu".

"Xiao Fang," Qiangzi said, his eyes still glued to his phone screen, his voice carrying his usual commanding tone, "Go downstairs and buy me a pack of cigarettes, Liqun, no less."

Xiao Fang's body stiffened slightly. He raised his head, a struggle on his face. He looked at Qiangzi, then quickly glanced at Zhang Qiliang who had just come in. His lips moved a few times, and he finally mustered up his courage, but his voice was still weak and barely audible: "Brother Qiang... the money for that pack of cigarettes this morning... you haven't transferred it to me yet."

"Huh?" Qiangzi paused for a moment, then clicked his tongue impatiently. "I forgot... It's not a big deal, I can just turn it around with you later, right?"

"But...but..." Xiao Fang became even more uneasy, twisting her fingers around the earphone cord, "I really don't have any money in my WeChat account...I still need to go to the pharmacy tomorrow to buy some medicine for my mom..."

"Damn it!" Qiangzi slammed his phone onto the bed, the screen reflecting his instantly darkened face. "Twenty yuan is like a death sentence? You son of a bitch—"

Before he could finish his tirade, and as he sat up straight with a menacing air, a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

The force wasn't particularly rough, but it was as heavy as a thousand pounds, forcefully pressing his rising momentum back onto the bed.

“Exactly, that’s too stingy,” Zhang Qiliang said, steadily pressing Qiangzi back into his seat. “Let’s be more generous and make the trip ourselves, okay?”

When he said the last two words, "Is it okay?", Zhang Qiliang emphasized them and leaned down slightly to stare at Qiangzi.

Qiangzi felt as if the hand on his shoulder was an iron clamp, and no matter how hard he tried to move it, he couldn't budge his body at all.

Looking at Zhang Qiliang again, a chill instantly ran down Qiangzi's spine.

He suddenly recalled the things that several kitchen staff and waiters had mentioned in the work group chat at noon and in the evening—"The new guy Liu Wei is really strong," "He does the work of two people," "He's reliable and never talks nonsense," and so on...

Looking back now, the force pressing down on my shoulders was more than just "strong"; it was practically inhuman!

The gaze cast from that calm face was definitely not a case of "no nonsense." It clearly conveyed the message: "If you dare to say another word, I'll slap you!"

"Okay..." Knowing when to yield is a basic skill for getting by. Qiangzi's face twitched, and he forced a smile. "Brother Liu is right, it's no big deal, I'll go buy it myself..."

As soon as I relaxed my shoulder, the hand moved away.

Qiangzi quickly got up, lowered his head, and hurried out of the dormitory.

Hmm... the footsteps going downstairs carried a hint of emotion.

Zhang Qiliang smiled, and behind him came Xiao Fang's grateful yet timid voice: "Thank... thank you, Brother Liu."

"Get some rest." Zhang Qiliang waved his hand, walked to his bunk, and began to tidy up his rather thin blanket.

The dormitory quieted down, with only the faint sound of funny videos coming from Zhao Ge's phone and the distant sound of traffic outside the window.

"Brother Liu..." A moment later, the edge of the bed was gently patted, the voice timid.

Zhang Qiliang turned to the side and peeked out.

Xiao Fang was standing by the bed, looking up, carefully holding a crumpled, open transparent plastic bag in her hands.

Upon closer inspection, Zhang Qiliang saw that the contents contained some dark brown, irregularly shaped flakes that looked dry and unappealing, resembling homemade dried sweet potato or papaya slices.

"Brother Liu...do you want to eat this?" Xiao Fang looked a little embarrassed.

"Eat it." Zhang Qiliang grabbed one casually, didn't even wipe it, and took a bite.

Mmm, it's very sweet.

Do one good deed every day on the 17th

At 5:30 a.m., the city was not yet fully awake.

A thin mist, like a semi-transparent veil, enveloped this neighborhood, located on the northwestern edge of the provincial capital, where rents were low.

The streetlights still shone with a dim yellow light, intertwining with the pale white of the sky and casting long shadows on the potholed cement road.

The streets were deserted, with only a few early risers—sanitation workers dragging heavy sweeping carts, breakfast vendors pushing creaking food carts, everything moving at a slow and drowsy pace.

Zhang Qiliang walked out of the dormitory building.

In fact, Zhang Qiliang had noticed changes in his body since the day before—not only a comprehensive improvement in strength, speed, and senses, but also a subtle change in his physiological needs.

His sleep quality is exceptionally good; his deep sleep time is greatly reduced, and two hours of rest is enough for his body and energy to return to peak condition.

The drowsiness and lethargy that ordinary people experience when they wake up completely disappeared in him, replaced by a clear and full alertness.

Standing downstairs, Zhang Qiliang took a deep breath of the cool air mixed with dust and haze. His lungs expanded much more than ever before, and oxygen was efficiently delivered to every corner of his body.

If it were yesterday, he wouldn't have gone shopping.

Shopping means crowds, surveillance, potential conflicts, and the risk of being exposed.

He preferred to take a longer route, walking through those secluded alleyways.

If it were yesterday, he wouldn't have left home at 5:30 in the morning.

Too early means he might encounter more messy things to deal with—and at that time, his mindset was still huddled up with fear of trouble, fear of exposure, and fear of that invisible net called social rules.

Sure enough, after finishing breakfast and strolling around for less than half an hour, my mind started to wander.

The source is 100 meters ahead.

It was a shop tucked away on the ground floor of a residential building. The old and blurry signboard, with its red background and white lettering long since faded and peeled off, still vaguely revealed the words "Xingwang Waste Recycling".

The shop is small, and the equally small sidewalk in front of it is mostly occupied by bundles of cardboard, piles of plastic bottles, twisted and rusty metal parts, and a bunch of unrecognizable appliance casings, leaving only a narrow gap for people to squeeze through sideways.

A middle-aged man wearing a faded polo shirt, with a slightly protruding belly, and cheap plastic slippers was standing at the store entrance.

He had a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth, the smoke rising in the damp morning air.

Two workers, dressed in overalls whose original colors were indistinguishable and covered in dust, were carrying a pile of shiny silver aluminum alloy profiles out of a low, dilapidated warehouse illegally built with blue corrugated steel sheets next door, following his instructions.

The method of moving them was extremely rough.

A piece of aluminum, about two meters long and square in cross-section, was grabbed by the middle with one hand and casually swung up, then crashed into the bed of a farm tricycle with peeling paint and covered in grease with a loud "bang!"

The thin steel plates in the truck bed trembled violently from the impact, emitting a mournful sound.

Next came an aluminum alloy window frame, which landed with a crisp "ping-pong!" on the aluminum material, scattering a few sparks.

Then came an aluminum alloy door panel that looked like it had been salvaged from a flea market. The two men lifted it up and slammed it against the edge of the cargo bed with a loud "bang!", causing the entire tricycle to shake.

The tricycle was clearly in dire condition; the diesel engine was still running, constantly belching out thick black exhaust fumes that were particularly glaring in the pale morning air.

The thumping noise mixed with the clanging of metal, creating a loud melody that pierced the morning mist.

Zhang Qiliang frowned slightly.

His hearing is now exceptionally sharp; to him, the noise is like a cacophony of gongs and drums at close range, each high-frequency impact sound clear and piercing.

That's okay too...

After all, this is purely a matter of its own evolution.

But more importantly, Zhang Qiliang could "hear" more—from behind several windows upstairs came the rustling sounds of someone turning over, suppressed coughs, and the dissatisfied mutterings of those who had been awakened.

Just then, a window on the upper floor of the scrap yard was pushed open with a "whoosh".

A middle-aged man with disheveled hair, wearing pajamas, leaned out.

His eyes were dark and swollen from lack of sleep, his face was flushed with anger, and he unconsciously rubbed his temple with one hand.

"Boss Cai!" The middle-aged man's voice was filled with suppressed anger and obvious exhaustion. "It's so early in the morning! Not even six o'clock! And you're making such a commotion again! Don't you let people get any sleep?! I was grading papers until two o'clock yesterday! I had just lain down for a short while!"

Mr. Cai, the owner of the scrap metal shop, looked up, a smug smile instantly spreading across his face, a stark contrast to when he was directing the moving operations.

"Oh! Teacher Wang! It's you!" Boss Cai's voice rose, filled with exaggerated apology. "I'm so sorry, so sorry! Look at me... I really have no choice! The factory that buys this batch of aluminum alloy is in a hurry. It has to be delivered to the warehouse in the east of the city before seven o'clock in the morning. If it's late, they won't want it! My small business can't afford to be delayed!"

As he spoke, he bowed respectfully to Teacher Wang upstairs, his posture very humble: "I'm so sorry to have disturbed your rest! Teacher Wang, please be understanding! I'll ask them to keep their voices down, to keep their voices down!"

Looking at him, Teacher Wang's chest heaved a few times. She wanted to say something more, but exhaustion and the other person's seemingly sincere apology silenced her.

In the end, he just sighed heavily, glared at the window below, said nothing more, and slammed the window shut with a loud bang.

The two movers stopped what they were doing, looked at their boss with questioning eyes.

The smile on Boss Cai's face vanished without a trace the moment the window closed, as if erased by an eraser.

He turned his head, lowered his voice, and said with impatience and disdain, "What are you looking at? Hurry up and get to work! What are you dawdling for?"

A worker whispered, "Boss, didn't you say to keep your voice down..."

"Keep your voice down?" Boss Cai scoffed, flicking his cigarette ash. "Just kidding... If I don't say it like that, will he shut up? It's bad luck to argue with him first thing in the morning! Anyway, we're moving out next month when our contract expires, why bother with him? Let's get on with our work! The factory can't wait!"

His voice was very low, almost a whisper.

But Zhang Qiliang, who is 2.45 meters away, could hear every word clearly from dozens of meters away, as if they were whispered in his ear.

"Understood." The two workers nodded, their faces expressionless, as if they were already used to it.

What happened next no longer required extraordinary hearing to catch.

"Clang!" A thicker aluminum alloy pipe was thrown directly onto the car.

"Whoosh!" A pile of scattered aluminum sheets poured in like garbage.

"Bang!" Another door panel.

The noise intensified, as if mocking the windows upstairs that had just been closed, and Mr. Wang, who was trying to defend his right to sleep.

Zhang Qiliang stopped in his tracks.

The route that was originally heading towards the scallion pancake stall was slightly deflected, heading straight towards the roaring tricycle and the three busy people.

The morning light fell on his face, and behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes were as calm as two deep pools, reflecting no ripples.

Zhang Qiliang walked to the tricycle and stood a few steps away from Boss Cai.

The messy aluminum alloy scraps in the truck bed reflected a cold metallic luster, and the roar of the engine and the stench of exhaust fumes hit you.

Mr. Cai was looking down at a bundle of aluminum when he noticed someone approaching. He looked up and saw a young man dressed plainly and wearing glasses. He immediately put on his usual smile—although it was a bit strange for a young man to come and look at scrap metal so early in the morning.

"Boss, do you collect scrap?" Zhang Qiliang asked.

Boss Cai's smile widened: "We buy! We buy all kinds of scrap! Steel, copper, aluminum, plastic, cardboard... What do you have?"

He quickly sized up Zhang Qiliang, trying to figure out what kind of "goods" the other party might have and how valuable they were.

Zhang Qiliang didn't answer what kind of goods he had, but instead pointed to the tricycle next to him that was still vibrating and roaring: "A scrapped tricycle."

Mr. Cai didn't react for a moment.

He followed Zhang Qiliang's finger to look at the tricycle—a vehicle that had been used for several years but could still operate, haul goods, and provide sustenance. How did it become a "scrap tricycle"?

The two workers stopped what they were doing and looked at the strange young man with a puzzled expression.

"A used...tricycle?" Boss Cai repeated, instinctively responding according to business practice, "Yes, of course I'll take it...but, brother, where's your vehicle?"

He looked around but didn't see any other tricycles.

“Here it is,” Zhang Qiliang said.