Shen Li didn't look back.
The clatter of ten fully loaded wagons filled the dawn air, gold and grain alike tucked away beneath reinforced panels. His caravan, surrounded by nearly thirty second-grade martial artists and over a hundred trained porters, moved with quiet urgency down the county roads.
He sat inside the central wagon, staring out from behind beaded curtains. His cheek still throbbed. He chewed nothing, only to flex the partially repaired muscles. The bruising would fade. The broken bone would heal. But the price Meng Mingyu had paid would not. That man's dominant hand was crippled—perhaps forever. And in a small city like Qinghe, the weakening of a first-grade martial artist meant more than personal defeat—it meant the beginning of the fall.
Shen Li muttered to himself, "Now... just as planned, the bandits arrive tomorrow."
Indeed, in his countless simulations, this very night marked the eve of destruction for Qinghe. The Huo
he infamous bandit force—would storm the gates. And this time, Shen Li hadn't just evaded their fury. He had armed it. He had counted on it.
A courier rode up to his window, lifting the canvas.
"Master Shen," he whispered. "We've cleared the last checkpoint. We're officially outside the county."
Shen Li nodded. "Good. Keep moving south, don't slow down. We camp only at dawn."
The man bowed and rode off.
Inside the wagon, Shen Li reached into a padded chest. Inside was a map drawn in his own hand—markings of routes, ambush points, defensive clusters. In simulations, 70% of his previous escape attempts were intercepted. He knew exactly where the surviving forces of the top families would chase him. And now? Now those families would be too busy burning to even realize he was gone.
He folded the map and leaned back, one hand absently rubbing the curve of his still-imposing stomach.
"That's right. Let the city fall… and from the ashes, I'll rise again. This time… in Wuhan."
Shen Li stood on a hill of brittle grass, watching the distant night sky flicker with blooming red and green fire.
Qinghe was burning.
Just as the simulation had foretold.
Behind him, the caravan wheels creaked and groaned as they began to form a circle, torches lighting the perimeter under the command of his surviving guards. Shen Li didn't speak for a long while. He simply watched the distant flames. That place had once been his battlefield, his proving ground. Now, it was just a smoldering monument to what he'd taken—and what he'd left behind.
"All as expected," he murmured.
He turned back. His guards had already driven stakes into the ground and pitched camp just a few li from Wuhan's southern gate. The outermost perimeter of the city was visible from here, looming with the weight of centuries—stone walls, narrow gate paths, watchtowers, and the damned eerie silence. That place had taken his life a dozen times in the simulations.
And each time, the result was the same: death before entry.
"Camp here," Shen Li ordered. "We're not moving any closer for now."
A few of his men glanced at one another nervously. "Young Master, shouldn't we at least send someone ahead? Make contact?"
Shen li dismissed guard
The camp grew that night—tents, watchposts, a modest fire in the middle. Around them, empty fields stretched, and beyond those, Wuhan's cold city wall remained ever still. No patrols greeted them. No scouts arrived. It was as if the city didn't even recognize them.
But Shen Li knew better.
From his countless simulations, he understood the pattern: if he didn't attempt to force his way in, he could survive. For a while. Three years, to be exact. After that, the Iron Army would arrive. Encirclement would follow.
"I need a method," he whispered to himself, seated cross-legged before the fire, the flickering glow dancing off his bloated but compact frame
[Name]: Shen Li[Age]: 21[Status]: Mortal (Enhanced)[Simulation Years Spent]: 52/ 516
[Simulation begins, Time frame 1 year]
[You arrived at the outskirts of Wuhan and camped with your caravan. The city gates remain heavily guarded, and your Yin Soul makes direct entry impossible without a strategy.]
[You secretly bribed several mid- and low-ranking gate officials through trusted agents. Using wealth and influence, you bought a time window during a rarely used opposite gate's inspection shift.]
[Under cover of timing and corruption, your caravan slipped past surface-level inspection. The inspectors ensured you passed fast enough not to be noticed by their superiors.]
[You officially entered Wuhan.]
[Within minutes of entering, changes began on the city gates—rotation of guard shifts]
[You rushed to an inn in the outer ring of the city to lay low.]
[That night, however, you were discovered. The Iron Army—Wang Family's private elite guard—tracked you]
A fight broke out. Your guards and employees were overwhelmed. To survive, you revealed your Skincrawler powers, transforming into a grotesque form.]
[Despite your power, the Iron Army's discipline and sheer strength cornered you. Reinforcements arrived, including at least one 1st Grade Martial Artist.]
[You were encircled and killed once again.]
[Before death, you activated the Cicada Shell Rebirth technique and abandoned your flesh vessel. As a Yin Soul, you silently fled under the cover of darkness.]
[Your plan was to retreat back to the forest and cultivate in seclusion—until the day you'd return to take revenge on the Iron Army and those behind]
[But this time, because your entry caused major disruption and panic, a hidden Initiate was dispatched by the city.]
[This was no ordinary martial artist. An elderly figure, whose skin barely clung to his frame, stood on a rooftop like he weighed nothing. You could easily count the ribs under his thin chest. His beard was long—ghostly white and flowing like smoke—and his presence alone distorted the Yin energy around him.]
[He looked directly at you.]
[You were shocked. Before you could even flee, the elder raised his hand. He didn't move. He didn't chase.]
[Just a single palm motion in the air…]
[…and it hit you.]
[From over ten meters away—no contact, no warning, no aura fluctuation—just will and technique.]
[Your Yin Soul shattered like glass.]
[End of simulation.]
[Choose Your Reward]
[Memory Imprint: Encirclement and Rebirth]
[Cultivation & Body Synchronization: Peak State of Age 20]
[Item: Black Iron Inn Token of Outer Wuhan]
Shen Li looked at the swirling mist on the system panel, his expression dark and dissatisfied.
"This path too… isn't suitable. In the end, it still led to death. No matter how much I prepare… they adapt."
He clenched his fist but quickly loosened it. No need to stress his newly healed body—or his soul. He waved his hand across the interface.
[Item Chosen: Black Iron Inn Token of Outer Wuhan]"Let's not burden the flesh or soul. One step at a time…"
With that, he closed his eyes and placed his hand on the simulation slate again.
"Let's run another… ten-year simulation. This time, a new angle."
[You entered with only one empty caravan. After entering, you quickly abandoned the caravan and slipped into the slums to hide.]
[Before even a full day passed, the Iron Army found you.]
[You are dead.]
Shen Li opened his eyes and growled, his voice low and bitter.
"I don't believe there is no path…"
[You entered the city again, this time using bribery to slip past the gates. You left the caravan behind entirely and descended into the sewers.]
[Three days later, the city was placed under martial law. The entire lower ring was searched. You were found.]
[You are dead.]
Shen Li stood up from his cross-legged position, his eyes flickering with cold calculation.
"Okay… infiltration doesn't work."
"They're tracking me somehow. Even when I change everything—wealth, appearance, movement—I'm still found."
Shen Li closed his eyes and selected the new simulation.
This time, he didn't choose memory imprint, body, or item. He let them go.
"I need all my clarity... All my will."
"If hiding doesn't work, then maybe I'll stop hiding."
"If I'm doomed to be found, then I'll make myself useful. I'll walk into the lion's den with gifts in hand."
He input: 10 years.,
[You have decided to open a hospital in the forest, away from direct jurisdiction but close enough to the city outskirts. With your accumulated wealth, you resolved to treat people for free.]
[Construction took three months. The building was modest but clean—sturdy wood, wide halls, an open central courtyard for air and light. You personally oversaw the medicine storage and surgical room.]
[You hired a few storytellers and herbal vendors to spread your name in Wuhan City's outer ring, focusing on word of mouth rather than banners or politics.]
[As expected, commoners began to come—some with mild colds and fevers, others carrying rotting limbs, or pus-filled wounds left untreated for weeks.]
[You did not hold back. You used every forbidden technique you knew—vein splicing, nerve reattachment, meat crafting.]
[You restored sight to a blind boy using skincrawler precision, reshaped a mangled leg into a functioning one using your own flesh as scaffolding.]
[By the end of the first year, rumors of a "Divine Flesh Doctor" spread across the outer ring.]
[In the second year, martial artists began to visit quietly]
[You healed them.]
[They did not understand how. But they left with gratitude, and most importantly]
[Your name is now whispered among the poor, feared by city physicians, and noticed by watchers from powerful clans.]
[In the third year, a few snakes slithered your way—envoys from minor sects or ambitious families. Their intentions were clear: learn your methods, copy your medicine, or bring you back as a private healer.]
[Some came with smiles, offering wealth and status. Others tried to assert dominance, claiming you had no right to use such unorthodox techniques.]
[You showed restraint—until one attempted to drug you during a meal.]
[That night, your body rippled, and the so-called guest was thrown through three wooden walls. His bones broke like dry twigs.]
[Word spread: the Divine Flesh Doctor was not to be trifled with.]
[They realized your strength approached that of a 1st Grade martial artist]
[In the third year's summer, the Wang family finally took the bait.]
[They did not send guards or officials. Instead, a quiet black carriage arrived one morning, its wheels silenced by thick leather padding.]
[From it descended two people with the surname Wang—one a young woman of unnatural beauty and overconfidence, the other a shirtless man with arms like steel cords and eyes that looked at everything with boredom.]
[Their complaints were... peculiar.]
[The woman wanted fuller curves,
[The man, on the other hand, leaned in close and whispered his request like a dark transaction: "Endurance... Size... Dominance. I want to be a man others envy and women remember."]
[You paused.]
[Then said only one thing: "Medicine has no shame—but you two do."]
[Still, you took the cases.]
[You knew time was short.]
[The iron army would make their rounds soon. If you didn't secure true favor from the Wang family, you would never pass the next crisis.]
[So you decided on a gamble.]
[You treated the initial pair—subtly improving the woman's curves with precise flesh manipulation, while enhancing the man's "confidence" through hidden techniques that adjusted nerve flow and blood distribution.]
[They left satisfied. More importantly, they left with pride—and pride always needs to be shown.]
[As you planned, whispers spread. The name of the "Divine Flesh Doctor" climbed from gossip to reverence.]
[Wang family's outer cousins began arriving in droves. Martial artists with small regrets in their bodies—limps, joint locks, old arrowhead damage, twisted bones from reckless techniques.]
[But then… the real ones arrived.]
[Wang Zhenhai, a 1st Grade martial artist, carried himself with discipline and pain. His right leg dragged ever so slightly. A wound from ten years ago—during the northern rebellion.]
[Wang Ruyin, another 1st Grade cultivator, held her hand in her sleeve at all times. The fingers inside were permanently gnarled after an elemental backlash during a failed cultivation.]
[These wounds could not be healed by pills. Not by ordinary doctors. But you… you were no ordinary doctor.]
[You gave them hope. And more importantly, you delivered.]
[Through flesh weaving, nerve realignment, and absolute muscle control, you made them as flawless as the day they first stepped into martial arts.]
[The day finally arrived.]
[A squad of elite guards clad in deep blue armor bearing the crest of the Wang family arrived at your hospital. Each one was a peak 2nd Grade or higher—silent, disciplined, and armed.]
[Their leader stepped forward, a middle-aged man with a cold gaze and trimmed beard.]
"By order of the Inner Hall, Divine Doctor Shen is to be escorted into the city immediately. From this day forward, you will serve the Wang bloodline exclusively. This is not a request."
[Their tone held no malice—but it left no room for denial.]
[You smiled.]
["Very well," you said. "But… a warning."]
[They exchanged glances. One snorted.]
"You think you can negotiate?"
[You didn't answer with words. Instead, you approached a corpse you had kept from a bandit raid.]
[Under their watchful eyes, you touched the chest. The skin unzipped itself like it had a mind of its own. Muscle fibers parted slowly and deliberately, and a beating heart—disconnected from all veins—rose from the body, cradled in pulsing tendrils.]
[Some took a step back.]
["My father was human," you said. "My mother… was not."]
[A silence fell.]
["So I ask again: Do you really want something like me inside your walls?"]
[This time, no one laughed.]
[Instead, the captain gave a curt nod, and one of the guards sprinted back toward the inner city.]
[You were no longer just a doctor. You were now a variable—one that even the Wang family had to weigh carefully.]
[Hours later, just before sunset, a young man returned. You immediately recognized him.]
[It was the Initiate—the first figure you had seen in your previous deaths. He wore a long dark-blue robe embroidered with golden dragons, and his presence was colder than frost.]
[Behind him stood a man in plain robes. His face was calm, but pale. The moment your eyes swept over him, your heart stirred.]
[You knew this man.]
[Not personally—but instinctively.]
[He was a 1st Grade martial artist, yet one utterly broken.]
[The Initiate spoke.]
"Heal him. Fully. If you succeed, you may enter the inner city and will receive Wang family protection."
[You nodded. Then, calmly and silently, you examined the man.]
[Your gaze pierced his body like needles. Veins, muscles, and tendons told you a tale—this man's meridians were cracked, his organs faint, and his bones brittle despite his strength.]
[But the most shocking thing…]
[He had no sex organ. It was not just removed—his lower structure was twisted as if cut off by a strange technique or punishment.]
[You raised your head.]
[The procedure began.]
[First, you paralyzed the patient. You closed his pain receptors, rendering his body completely numb.]
[Then, your hands moved.]
[To the guards and servants watching, it was hellish.]
[The old eunuch's face twitched, his limbs spasmed. It was as if bugs had nested in his flesh.]
[Some couldn't bear to watch. Others threw up.]
[But you did not stop.]
[You didn't just fix what was broken.]
[You regrew.]
[After healing the countless hidden wounds within the man's body, you turned your attention to the deepest flaw—the one no technique could normally repair.]
[He was a eunuch.]
[No sex organ. Nothing remained but a scar of shame.]
[You looked at the Initiate.]
"If you want him whole, truly whole... then I'll finish the job."
[Without waiting for approval, you turned.]
[You walked over to a fresh corpse, stripped the body, and cut off its private part—right there in front of a dozen people.]
[Gasps erupted.]
[The patient, wide-eyed and unable to move, looked desperately to the Initiate.]
[His gaze pleaded: "Stop this."]
[But the Initiate only frowned. He didn't look away. He gave no orders.]
[And so the grafting began.]
[You merged tissue with nerve. You rebuilt muscle sheaths, redirected blood vessels, and anchored flesh to flesh.]
[It took over an hour.]
[When it was done… the eunuch was no longer a eunuch.]
[He was, once again, a man.]
You said, calmly:
"It will function. Almost like you were born with it. But I can't do anything about the skin tone difference."
[There was stunned silence.]
[Even the Initiate, emotionless and cold until now, blinked slowly.]
[He spoke only one sentence.]
"There is no doctor like you in the clan."
[You didn't respond.]
[You just began cleaning your hands.]