However, the bayonet technique for the rifle was an exception; it had also been modified by the gray shadow figure. But no matter how William Carter looked at it, he felt it was the technique for using a cold weapon spear, not a rifle bayonet.

It could be said that this gray shadow figure could optimize almost all cold weapon and unarmed combat into methods of killing the enemy—it was pure killing instinct. No wonder whenever he saw someone make a move, William Carter could automatically deduce a lot; it was all because of this gray shadow figure.

Chapter 7: I’ve Washed My Neck

After figuring out the abilities of the gray shadow figure, William Carter continued to check the effects of taking the Essence Cultivation Pill. He had taken three pills in a row, and the immense spiritual energy even made William Carter feel a bit unwell. William Carter understood that this must be the maximum number of Essence Cultivation Pills one could take in a day.

After all, the Essence Cultivation Pill was still a medicine, and all medicines have some toxicity. You can’t exceed a certain dosage, or a good thing will turn bad. William Carter had seen this happen many times on Earth. Unless it was absolutely necessary, William Carter would never risk his life by overdosing.

Three Essence Cultivation Pills made up for about one-fifth of William Carter’s soul deficiency, and at the same time brought a feeling of vigor—his whole body’s muscles seemed filled with power, so much so that it was uncomfortable and he urgently needed to let it out.

Without another word, William Carter got up and started doing push-ups. He did over two hundred standard push-ups in a row and didn’t feel tired at all. According to his training on Earth, he should have hit his limit by now—what was going on?

In fact, it wasn’t until William Carter had done over four hundred that he finally reached his limit. Keeping a steady pace, he solidly completed five hundred before getting up. His arms and chest felt hot, but there was no sense of fatigue.

Sit-ups, squats—William Carter did a series of exercises, all exceeding the maximum numbers he could do on Earth, yet he felt the amount of exercise was just right.

At this point, William Carter was convinced that his physical fitness had multiplied within a single day. Although he hadn’t tested his speed yet, the feeling when drawing his gun told him there had definitely been a change. This must be the effect of the Essence Cultivation Pill, or rather, the effect of spiritual energy nourishing the body.

Outside, night had completely fallen, and the whole world was silent. William Carter stopped exercising, did some light stretching, then sat down again in the safest corner of the room, one hand on his gun grip, ready to spring up at any moment, and closed his eyes to rest.

But even while resting, William Carter remained highly alert. In this unfamiliar world, William Carter didn’t dare sleep like the dead. Since he had just learned visualization today, William Carter immersed his mind in his soul space, using it as a substitute for deep sleep.

Without the Essence Cultivation Pill providing spiritual energy to repair the damage, the little soul fish followed the stretching and contracting movements William Carter had first learned from the gray shadow figure, slowly absorbing the wisps of spiritual energy from the surrounding space. William Carter believed that this continuous absorption process was also cultivation.

Around two in the morning, William Carter suddenly opened his eyes, silently sprang up, and disappeared into the darkness outside the door without making a sound.

At dawn, before the sky had even lightened, William Carter had already hurried back to the vicinity of his small courtyard. Just as he was about to enter, he suddenly heard a few faint sounds.

Outside the courtyard gate, three figures crept over from across the street, each holding a wooden stick as thick as a forearm, sneaking toward the entrance of William Carter’s courtyard.

“Damn it, a barbarian became Miss Yan’s fiancé, and he’s a useless good-for-nothing. What a waste.”

“Keep your voice down. We’re just going to teach him a lesson, let that barbarian know when to back off!”

“Yeah, while no one’s paying attention, don’t use weapons, just sticks. Be careful not to kill him.”

...

The three whispered as they groped their way forward. The one at the back suddenly felt an itch on his neck, reached up to scratch it, and then his mouth and nose were covered by someone. He didn’t make a sound before his body went limp and collapsed.

The two in front didn’t notice their companion was missing and continued to tiptoe forward.

After a few more steps, the one at the back suddenly had both feet lifted off the ground, his legs flailing in the air for a moment before going still. All of this happened in the air, and apart from the rustling of clothes, there was no other sound.

“Be careful, we’re almost at the barbarian’s place,” the one in front warned when he heard the sound of clothes behind him. He glanced at the courtyard and, seeing nothing unusual, relaxed and let out a long breath.

Just as he exhaled, the young man suddenly felt a chill under his neck. His body instantly tensed, standing rigidly in place, not daring to move a muscle.

That chill wasn’t from a cold wind or anything like that, but from the blade of a sharp weapon. The young man had combat experience and was no stranger to this feeling. However, it was the first time someone had silently pressed a weapon to his neck.