In the dense forest, the black, overweight man and the young eagle-nosed man, both poised and ready for action, were stunned upon witnessing Zhao Heng's battle power.

Since the beginning of the servant assessment, they had never clashed with Zhao Heng.

The only information they had gathered about him was from Elder Liu, who had told them that Zhao Heng had reached the sixth level of Body Tempering a month ago.

Although Zhao Heng had previously displayed his skills, killing five people, the two had attributed it to the effects of quicklime and Softening Powder, dismissing his strength entirely.

However, the moment they engaged in combat, Zhao Heng’s power far exceeded their expectations.

The sheer strength and speed he demonstrated could only be achieved by a martial artist at the ninth level of Body Tempering.

But how could he possibly have reached the ninth level from the sixth level in just one month?

What they didn’t know was that Zhao Heng’s true cultivation was actually at the eighth level of Body Tempering, and he had just broken through last night.

However, due to the perfected version of the Qing Song Technique, his vitality was far greater than that of others at the same level, allowing him to display strength equivalent to a ninth-level Body Tempering martial artist.

Since the battle had begun, Zhao Heng wasn’t going to offer any explanations.

He pushed his inner vitality to the extreme, the perfect cycle of the Qing Song Technique accelerating rapidly. His attacks grew fiercer, and the black, overweight man found himself unable to keep up.

"Spirit Wind Palm!"

The man shouted, transforming his fist into a palm. His palms alternated in rapid succession, creating a gust of wind that was as fast as lightning.

At this critical moment, the black, overweight man disregarded the strain on his vitality and unleashed a set of inferior-grade martial skills.

Though he was only a beginner, among martial artists of the same level who hadn't trained in martial techniques, he still held an advantage.

Unfortunately for him, Zhao Heng showed no mercy.

"Crackstone Fist!"

Zhao Heng clenched his fists tightly, his feet firmly planted as though rooted to the ground. He struck with fists that felt as powerful as a collapsing mountain!

"Boom…!"

The fists and palms collided head-on with a deafening sound, but Zhao Heng stood firm, unyielding.

The black, overweight man’s palms felt as if they had been shocked by electricity. His body staggered backward, his face flushed as he felt his vitality almost overturned by a tremendous force.

Taking advantage of this, Zhao Heng followed up with a heavy second punch aimed directly at the man’s throat.

The black, overweight man’s pupils contracted, fear flashing in his eyes.

Just then, a figure darted forward.

"Crushing Heart Claw!"

It was the eagle-nosed young man who made his move.

His claw struck out with a sharpness akin to a knife, more powerful than the black, overweight man's Spirit Wind Palm.

"Bang!"

The fist and claw clashed, causing Zhao Heng to stagger slightly. Five blood marks appeared on his fist, causing a dull pain.

Yet the eagle-nosed young man was forced to retreat several steps, his fingers twitching as his entire arm began to feel numb.

The impact from that strike had felt like he was clawing at solid stone, his fingers nearly breaking.

"How can this be? This guy is also using the Crackstone Fist, which is only an inferior-grade technique. How does it have such power? Could it be that he has already cultivated it to the Lesser Mastery stage?"

The eagle-nosed young man couldn’t fathom this, but Zhao Heng had indeed improved the Crackstone Fist to an intermediate level of the inferior grade. Its power and level were leagues ahead of its original form.

"Let's attack together! We must kill him!"

At this point, the eagle-nosed young man was no longer merely following Elder Liu’s orders.

If Zhao Heng wasn’t killed today, even if he wasn’t killed by Zhao Heng himself, having such a sinister and ruthless enemy would turn every night into a nightmare.

In the next moment, the black, overweight man and the eagle-nosed young man launched a joint assault.

One attacked with palms like a raging storm, while the other swung claws like a razor. They came at Zhao Heng from both sides.

Faced with their encirclement, Zhao Heng's eyes gleamed with sharpness. He didn’t retreat but advanced, meeting their attack with his Crackstone Fist, roaring forward like the wind.

Although Zhao Heng could be anxious and worried, often fearing that someone might try to harm him, it didn’t mean he was timid.

On the contrary, in order to eliminate these anxieties, he would go to any lengths, even at the cost of his enemies’ lives, to deal with those who posed a threat to him.

In an instant, the three of them were locked in combat.

Facing the dual assault of two martial artists at the ninth level of Body Tempering, Zhao Heng’s vitality circulated at full speed. He swung his fists, attacking with one on each side, pushing the Crackstone Fist to its maximum power. He used the raw force of his strikes to counter their numerous and tricky attacks.

For a moment, the three of them fought fiercely, with Zhao Heng using one against two, barely holding his ground.

At this point, the modified Qing Song Technique and the Crackstone Fist’s power were fully unleashed.

The perfected version of the Qing Song Technique was not only stronger than the original, but the circulation path of his vitality was also shortened by several times.

This meant that Zhao Heng’s internal circulation was much faster than others, making his vitality far thicker and more enduring.

In contrast, the black, overweight man and the eagle-nosed young man were forced to regulate their breathing during the intense battle, giving Zhao Heng the opportunity to keep up with both of their assaults at the same time.

As for the Crackstone Fist, its power was self-evident, and Zhao Heng had noticed that the modification of the Crackstone Fist seemed to have been tailored specifically to his condition by the Dao Seed Dice.

Originally a martial art based on the earth’s strength, the technique, when Zhao Heng used it at full force, had developed an almost endless flow, an unbroken rhythm.

This perfectly complemented the Qing Song Technique within him, further boosting its power.

The combined efforts of the two still couldn’t defeat Zhao Heng.

What was even worse was that the two noticed that the Softening Powder’s poison, which they had been suppressing with their vitality, was starting to turn against them. Their bodies began to feel weak and soft.

With the ongoing loss of their strength, their situation was becoming increasingly perilous.

At that moment, Zhao Heng suddenly reached into his clothes and pulled out two bags of powder. Clenching his fists, he struck.

The powder in his left hand was glaringly bright, a bag of quicklime, while the powder in his right hand was colorless and odorless but contained the highly toxic Softening Powder.

Taking advantage of the goggles and wet cloths he had prepared, Zhao Heng recklessly released the poison.

The black, overweight man and the eagle-nosed young man were left helpless. They couldn’t dodge, nor could they take the hit. Frustration nearly made them want to vomit blood.

Feeling their bodies growing increasingly soft and weak, with the poison no longer manageable, they were filled with fear and began to contemplate escape.

But it was already too late. Their legs lacked strength, and they couldn’t run fast enough.

In that moment, Zhao Heng acted like a hunter closing in on his prey, striking out with deadly force.

No longer bothering to use the Crackstone Fist, he drew his black gold-leopard-head knife from his waist and charged forward, swiftly slashing their throats, one by one.

Looking at the two who had now completely died, Zhao Heng wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a long breath.

"Ha... finally took care of you two."

In order to deal with the dangers in today’s assessment, Zhao Heng had pushed himself to reach the eighth level of Body Tempering overnight, leaving many precautions in place.

This included spending a considerable amount of Xuan Crystal at the Merit Hall to purchase materials such as Blood Spirit Wood and Beast Repellent Liquid.

Though it had been costly, it was worth it as he had successfully eliminated those who wished to harm him. Now, he could finally feel some peace.

"Wait... Liu Hong, I must make him disappear for good before I can truly relax."

Zhao Heng muttered to himself. He didn’t dare to stay on the spot for too long. Quickly, he used corpse powder to handle the bodies of the seven men present.

He then swiftly collected their belongings, packages, and that large bag full of "beast ears," taking it all with him.

Zhao Heng couldn’t help but feel uneasy as he moved, sensing that something was watching him. It felt as though a pair of eyes were secretly observing him from the shadows, making him uncomfortable.

However, Zhao Heng didn’t make any overt reactions to the sensation.

After gathering the spoils of war and clearing the scene, he quickly moved on, heading deeper into the forest.

He walked for several miles, yet the feeling of being watched persisted.

Zhao Heng furrowed his brow, making his way toward a large tree. He drew his black-gold leopard-head knife and started digging a small hole in the ground, before stuffing a bag into the hole.

While working, he muttered to himself.

"I’ve taken care of all these people. If I take their belongings out now and someone finds out, it’ll be a hassle. I’ll bury everything here for now and come back for it after the assessment is over."

Zhao Heng carefully buried the package, then used a round stone slab to cover the hole, marking it as a reminder.

Once the task was done, Zhao Heng felt a sense of accomplishment and finally let out a breath of relief.

But just as he relaxed his body, a sudden, sharp sound cut through the air.

"Swish, swish, swish...!"

From the dense forest behind him, three cold rays shot out simultaneously, aiming straight for the back of Zhao Heng’s head, his neck, and his tailbone.

These three rays were unbelievably fast, striking at awkward angles. Within moments, they were only a few feet away from Zhao Heng, almost impossible to dodge!

Zhao Heng’s senses were sharply attuned to the danger, and in an instant, his body reacted.

His hands moved in a blur, grabbing the black-gold leopard-head knife at his waist. With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, he turned to face the incoming cold rays.

The three projectiles were a blur of light, but Zhao Heng’s speed was far beyond what his opponents had expected. As the rays closed in, his body seemed to move with a fluid grace, evading the direct path of the strikes.

He could feel the danger of the three attacks, each targeting a vital point with deadly precision. There was no room for error.

Zhao Heng’s heart raced as his instincts kicked in. He shifted his weight and bent his knees slightly, preparing to use the full power of his physical strength and his martial arts skills to deal with the threat.

With one clean motion, he sidestepped the first ray aimed at his head and swung the black-gold leopard-head knife in a wide arc, blocking the second attack that was headed for his neck.

The knife’s blade clashed against the cold ray with a sharp sound, creating sparks in the air. He twisted his wrist, redirecting the attack to the side.

But just as he thought he had deflected the first two, the third ray was already bearing down on him from behind. Zhao Heng’s eyes widened in surprise. He had misjudged the speed, and the third strike was coming far too fast.

In a desperate move, Zhao Heng rolled forward, dodging at the last second, but the ray grazed his shoulder, leaving a thin, deep cut that stung like fire. His muscles burned with pain as the poison from the Softening Powder began to affect his body, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The assailant who had launched the attack was already stepping forward, their figure emerging from the shadows. It was a man with a menacing grin, his eyes filled with malicious intent.

"You’re quite fast," the man said with a laugh, his voice cold and mocking. "But you're still too slow."

Zhao Heng narrowed his eyes. This man was no ordinary opponent. His aura was terrifying, and he could tell that the man was a martial artist at the ninth level of Body Tempering, much like the black, overweight man and the eagle-nosed youth. However, his skill was on a different level—much more refined and deadly.

"Who are you?" Zhao Heng asked, his voice low, his eyes scanning for an opening.

The man simply smiled and raised his hand, showing a pair of gleaming daggers, their edges reflecting the light in the forest.

"I'm your worst nightmare," the man replied, his grin widening as he prepared for another attack.

The man with the gleaming daggers stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Zhao Heng’s heart raced as he assessed the situation. The man’s movements were smooth and calculated, showing no signs of hesitation or doubt. Zhao Heng could tell this was someone with real skill.

Without wasting any more time, the man lunged toward Zhao Heng with a burst of speed, his daggers slashing toward Zhao Heng’s chest.

Zhao Heng’s muscles tensed, ready to react. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by his wound. His body moved with precision, narrowly dodging the man’s first strike, then countering with a punch from his left hand, aiming for the man’s exposed side.

But the man was too quick. He twisted his body, dodging the punch with ease, and slashed with his daggers in a swift, deadly arc. The sound of the blades cutting through the air was like a death knell.

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