Chapter Eleven: A Clean Sweep

As expected, Jiang Ming became the chief of Black Wind Fortress.

In the Hall of Brotherhood, he sat at the head of the table, with Hu Tu now known as Second Hu, and Chang Qing as Third Chang.

“Those who have committed countless crimes, those who remain loyal to the former chief—pick them out and kill them all!” Jiang Ming issued his first command. “Second Hu, be thorough! From now on, we won’t rob common folk or merchants. If we act, it’ll be against landlords, tyrants, and corrupt officials. Do you understand?”

“Understood, understood, understood!” Second Hu nodded vigorously and hurried away.

“Third Chang, once Second Hu has cleaned things up, select a group of skilled brothers to form a squad. Drill them day and night. Can you manage that?”

“Chief, yes!” Chang Qing answered with renewed fighting spirit.

Whether it was his new position as the third chief or the shift in the fortress’s way of doing things, both suited him well, and he was pleased.

Jiang Ming nodded.

Second Hu was a cunning fellow—greedy for life, afraid of death—but easily controlled. As long as you took a strong stance, he would do his work diligently.

Third Chang was a young man with some opinions of his own. More encouragement and responsibility, combined with guiding his values, could turn him into a useful asset.

After they left, Jiang Ming paced back and forth in the hall.

The surroundings were modest, the furniture battered, yet he felt a sense of accomplishment.

In truth, when he first arrived, the prompt had warned him that he would one day be hunted as a demon. Seeing a group of bandits pass by, he’d had a sudden idea.

For the battles to come in two years, it was better to cultivate a group for his own use. At worst, they could serve as cannon fodder.

And so, things flowed naturally in his favor.

With the daily affairs handed over to Second Hu and Third Chang, he found himself with little to do.

Dinner was simple. After filling his stomach, he went to his newly cleaned quarters—a small courtyard, with a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl assigned to look after his daily needs.

Her name was Lan. When she saw him, her face turned pale, her body trembling, clearly afraid.

Jiang Ming sighed inwardly.

In the main world, these would all be students.

Suppressing his discomfort, he entered the room. In the bedroom stood a hastily made bookshelf, filled with books, most of them worn and tattered, as he’d requested.

Most were ordinary books, with only five containing techniques: Ma Family Mental Arts, Stone-Breaking Palm, Iron Fist, Wind-Slicing Blade, and Grass Step.

Few in number, yet covering all basics.

“Ma Family Mental Arts?” Jiang Ming eyed the twisted script on the cover, feeling it was nothing more than the former chief’s attempt to glorify himself.

He leafed through them one by one.

The fist and palm techniques were ordinary, even the blade technique was simple.

Grass Step, a light-footed skill, had some merit: it required true energy to be channeled along a specific path to unleash its power.

“As for Ma Family Mental Arts?” After reading it, Jiang Ming shook his head.

While it allowed for cultivation of internal energy, it was clearly limited to refining true energy from food, inefficient and far inferior to the Origin Sutra.

He reviewed them all, pondered briefly, then fully grasped their essence, absorbing them into his own repertoire.

“This fortress is ultimately too small!” Jiang Ming was not discouraged and began reading the other books.

Most were miscellaneous notes or tales, of little value.

“Wait!” Jiang Ming suddenly frowned.

The language here was exactly the same as in the main world, even the script identical.

Thoughts churned, but in the end, he decided not to dwell on it.

“Thinking too much leads to baldness!”

Jiang Ming sat cross-legged on the bed and began cultivating the Origin Sutra—the true foundation.

As he channeled the technique, his spirit stirred, quickly attuning to the heavens, drawing the ambient energy into himself, transforming it into innate true energy to fill the vast space of his core.

It was destined to be a long process.

At dawn the next day, after morning practice and breakfast, Second Hu arrived hurriedly, respectfully asking, “Chief, did you sleep well, eat well?”

“Not bad.” Jiang Ming pointed to a stool for him to sit. “How are things?”

“All handled as needed. Though the men are restless, it’s been suppressed. Third Chang has picked a group of strong men—no trouble brewing. Only…” Second Hu hesitated, “The situation here can’t be concealed. I’m afraid the other three fortresses might cause trouble.”

“No need to worry,” Jiang Ming replied calmly.

That composure and confidence impressed Second Hu greatly.

Truly the scion of a great family.

“In your opinion, if I invite the chiefs of the other three fortresses to a ceremony in my name as chief, would they come?” Jiang Ming asked.

“This…” Second Hu was stunned, then quickly cautioned, “Chief, absolutely not. Our fortress is weak now, we should conserve our strength. If they come and see us gathering, they might act on the spot.”

Jiang Ming extended his hand, flicked his fingers, and sent a strand of true energy in the form of blade aura, piercing a hole straight through the stone table.

Second Hu froze, then trembled with excitement. “Chief, you—you’ve reached the innate realm?”

“Are you still afraid?” Jiang Ming asked instead of answering.

“No, of course not!” Second Hu’s spirits soared. “Before the innate realm, they’re all nothing. Chief, you want to invite them here and catch them all at once?”

“Exactly. Go make arrangements.”

“Alright! But let’s wait until the fortress is settled and secure, without any worries. Half a month at most.”

“Fine! Second Hu, bring all the medicinal supplements from the fortress. I need them for cultivation.”

“Chief, I’ll see to it immediately!”

Second Hu left in high spirits, marveling to himself: So young, in the innate realm, yet still diligent. His origins must be extraordinary. And he listens to advice—how fortunate! Perhaps I can achieve something great here.

Soon, he personally delivered a batch of supplements, though they were all rather ordinary.

The oldest ginseng was only a hundred years old.

“Lan!”

“Master, I am here!”

“Listen carefully!” Jiang Ming sorted the medicines, grouped them, and explained how to prepare them into medicinal meals—high school lessons, really.

How to combine the herbs, cook simple nourishing dishes, and so forth.

Now that he had help, he naturally didn’t want to cook himself.

“Try it first. If anything’s wrong, I’ll guide you.”

“Yes, Master.”

He had insisted she call him Master.

Being called chief by a delicate young girl felt entirely awkward.

The order of adding ingredients, cooking times—after just two repetitions, Lan had memorized everything.

Jiang Ming paid her no more mind, instead moving lightly, displaying his footwork. To Lan’s eyes, he seemed a blur, growing faster with every step.

She was astounded, her gaze full of awe and envy.

Jiang Ming left the courtyard, stepping onto the grass, running without touching the ground, each stride five or six meters, light as a cloud.

This was the true essence of Grass Step—running atop the blades of grass.

“Perfected!”

After enjoying himself, he returned to the courtyard.

He looked up at the sky.

“When will I be able to fly?”

He laughed at his own thoughts.

Aside from cultivation, he considered the situation on the mountain. Though he intended to train a group of cannon fodder, he needed rules—without cohesion, things could easily collapse in a crisis.

“For bandits, it’s almost impossible to win their true loyalty in the short term.”

“So, I’ll rely on overwhelming strength to intimidate, lure them with rewards, focus on intense training, and make ideology the core—striving to forge an iron army!”

With a rough plan in mind, Jiang Ming drafted a set of regulations.

In the evening, Second Hu came by, and Jiang Ming showed him the draft.

“Chief, if this is implemented, the brothers will surely unite and be utterly loyal, but…” Second Hu looked troubled, “It’ll cost too much. The fortress simply can’t afford it.”