Standing to the side, William Clark broke out in a sweat after only a few glances. He had originally thought that the martial arts of this world were nothing special—though there was this magical thing called internal energy, the techniques themselves shouldn’t be any better than the stuff he’d learned (not that what he’d learned was anything particularly sophisticated, either).

In fact, in his original understanding, even if this cheap junior sister’s skills were better than the original William Clark, they couldn’t be that much better. But now, it seemed that if this junior sister wanted to kill her senior brother and seize the position of sect leader, she probably wouldn’t need more than three moves. This was a conclusion drawn from comparing the fragmented training memories in his mind.

And just as William Clark was secretly thinking, “Good thing I haven’t offended this young lady these past two days!” the big man on the left was about to meet his end under the sword—Emily Carter hated his foul mouth and was determined to kill him on the spot—so he frantically called out to his brothers for help: “This one’s too tough, brothers, help me!”

Immediately, the few men who had been standing by the fire drew their weapons with a swish and charged forward in a swarm.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal, but a few of them, perhaps seeing that there were already too many people around Emily Carter and figuring there was no room for themselves, actually shifted direction and charged straight at him.

“Damn! You can’t be serious! I haven’t even said I’m joining in yet!”

But no matter how much he complained, it was useless. His body reacted before his mind, and he instinctively dug a chunk of stone from a hole in the wall beside him and hurled it back.

As soon as the stone left his hand, it struck the face of the man charging in front with lightning speed… Poor guy didn’t even get to announce his name or utter a single threat before being knocked out cold on the spot, collapsing to the ground, unable to move.

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Chapter 5: The Three Immortal Swords Appear

Inside the ruined temple, several burly men were besieging a young woman, their broadswords whistling through the air with great force, but they simply couldn’t get close to her. Every time a blade came down, it would be deflected aside by the long sword in her hand. Though the force of the attack wasn’t diminished, the place where the blade landed was never where they’d intended.

However, with the men attacking in turns, the woman was kept busy defending herself and had no time to counterattack, so this side of the fight was locked in a stalemate.

Compared to the lively battle over there, things on the other side seemed a bit strange…

After casually tossing out a stone, William Clark quickly reached for another, his eyes fixed intently on the fierce-looking men in front of him.

This was a habit he’d picked up from past fights: when someone charged at him, he’d first look for something handy to throw, then, while the opponent was distracted, either rush in for a beating or turn and run. Either way, he’d always seize the initiative.

But this time was different. The opponents clearly hadn’t expected him to respond this way, and they all froze in place. One of them even crouched down to check on the guy who’d been knocked out.

“Fourth! Fourth!”

He reached out to check his breathing, then cursed loudly: “Damn it, Fourth was killed by this kid’s stone! Brothers, avenge Fourth!”

To be fair, Fourth was pretty unlucky. He’d been a streetwise veteran for years, had seen plenty of wandering heroes, and had encountered countless young martial artists.

Many of those greenhorns, eager to make a name for themselves, would try to pick a fight with him and his brothers. But those guys would either challenge him to a fair duel or charge in for a head-on brawl. Even the few who were skilled with throwing knives or hidden weapons would always shout, “Villain, watch out for my dart!” to show they were honorable men.

When had he ever seen someone silently hurl a hidden weapon without warning? And it wasn’t even a dart, but a big rock. This didn’t seem like the act of a chivalrous hero, but more like the work of a bully who preyed on the weak. He couldn’t have known that William Clark, as a proud transmigrator, had plenty of street-fighting experience. In William Clark’s view, any method that worked to his advantage was fair game.

As for shouting “watch out for my dart!” before throwing something? This wasn’t some friendly sparring match—it was a fight for his life. He had no reason to give the enemy a heads-up.

It was this difference in mindset that led to him charging in recklessly, unprepared for William Clark’s flying stone, and taking a fatal hit to the head. Truly, his luck couldn’t have been worse.

“He’s dead?”

He’d thought he’d only knocked the guy out, but unexpectedly, he’d sent him straight to the underworld. William Clark was startled, but it didn’t slow his hands—seeing the others about to charge, he hurled another stone.

This time, the men were clearly prepared. None of them ended up like Fourth, killed on the spot. Instead, they covered their heads with their hands and raised their various weapons to hurl at William Clark.

As for William Clark, after throwing the stone, he grabbed a handful of dirt—there were not only big stones but also dust on the broken wall. He scooped up a handful, complete with pebbles and bits of grass, and flung the whole messy lot right at the group’s faces.