Frankly, my physique wasn't really suited for practicing Warrior skills, as my bone structure was too slender, making it difficult to achieve bulk even with rigorous training, something like Garona's build. Sometimes, talent simply dictates everything; while it was frustrating, it was an undeniable fact. To advance my strength through conventional training would undoubtedly be incredibly difficult; further improvement would require alternative methods. This brought to mind the monster-slaying and leveling up from legends. I wondered if killing monsters in this world would yield similar effects. I decided to try it out, setting my sights on the Scarecrows and Pig-Nose Cats that frequently haunted the wilderness south of the village. I had devised a thorough plan beforehand. Firstly, I could confirm that there were no Orcs or Wolves lurking south of the village; that direction led towards the massive city of Bijie, meaning high traffic. Dangerous creatures like Orcs and Wolves would surely have been killed by passing Rangers, as their skulls fetched a decent price—a dozen copper coins—as armor material. The Pig-Nose Cats and Scarecrows, having no economic value, wouldn't attract the Rangers. Killing them would only waste stamina, yielding nothing else. Consequently, Scarecrows and Pig-Nose Cats still frequented the roadside areas, making them the perfect targets for my experiment.

However, practicing on them with the standard Ebony Sword wouldn't suffice. Therefore, I decided to switch weapons. Fortunately, my father, whom I had never met, had left behind several weapons, including the Iron Sword I could manage at my current strength. There were a few other weapons hidden beneath my mother's bed, but she always refused to let me open the chest, never offering an explanation for her reasoning.

Once I made up my mind, I hurried to my mother's room and retrieved the Iron Sword from the bedside cabinet. Then, I slipped out through the back door. I didn't want my mother to know my plan; otherwise, she would worry herself sick.

Carefully weighing the Iron Sword in my hand, it felt slightly lighter than the Ebony Sword. A cold glint shimmered off both sharpened edges, making it look quite keen, and the blade itself was over a meter long. Having been in this world for three months, this was the first time I had held a sharpened Iron Sword, and my spirits instantly soared. I believed that even ten of Fatty Luo wouldn't be a match for me now, because victory in combat isn't just determined by who has the largest frame or the greatest strength; speed and technique are often equally crucial. I was confident my speed and technique were no worse than any of my peers. Coupled with the sharp edge of the Iron Sword, the demand for raw strength was reduced to a minimum. Of course, the most important factor was that I was currently at full stamina, not in the near-exhausted limit after two hours of morning drills.

About an hour later, I finally arrived at the wilderness south of the village.

From a distance, I spotted a shambling figure, resembling a zombie—a Scarecrow. It seemed my luck was holding; I would take you on first. With spirits high, I charged swiftly toward the Scarecrow.

Almost simultaneously, the Scarecrow noticed my presence. Its stiff arms swung up in a half-circle, sweeping down with tremendous force. Hah! My Iron Sword swept out in response.

Clang! The astonishing impact sent a near-numbing shock up my arm. Good heavens, what raw power. The Iron Sword was nearly jarred right out of my grip. Nonetheless, I was forced to retreat several steps, while the Scarecrow seemed unaffected and continued to rush forward at a quick pace. The arm I had struck only bore a faint sword mark. At that moment, both stiff arms swung toward me again.

It was clear that matching strength against the Scarecrow was unwise; Feng had mentioned this to me before. The Scarecrow’s weakness was a fist-sized protrusion near its throat; striking that spot would paralyze it. Thus, upon seeing the Scarecrow’s sweeping arms, I rapidly backed away a few steps. As the swing missed, I suddenly surged forward, thrusting straight toward the Scarecrow’s throat area.

Whoosh! As if expecting it, the Scarecrow's rigid body executed a quick sidestep in a flash, narrowly avoiding my attack. It immediately followed up with another horizontal sweep. Having missed my target, I was caught in the Scarecrow’s counterattack and had no time to retreat, forced only to instinctively raise my sword to block.

Because it was a hasty defense, I couldn't put any power behind it, and as a result, I was violently thrown back by the Scarecrow’s immense force.

Thud! I was hurled backward, crashing heavily onto the ground, feeling almost shattered, as if every bone might break. The Scarecrow, almost without pausing, though its gait remained stiff, moved its legs as if wound up—its steps were rigid but not slow—and rushed right up to me.

Danger! If I didn't dodge now, I’d surely die. Although the Scarecrow posed no threat to ordinary Rangers, to me in my current state, it could easily take my life.

Crash! The instant the Scarecrow’s arm hammered down, I dodged with a scramble and a roll, then managed to stand up. The spot where I had been struck now bore a small crater in the earth. Good heavens, if I had been a fraction slower, I would have met a miserable end.

Hah! Hah! My chest pounded uncontrollably. This was my first real fight, a gamble with my life; how could I not be nervous? But in that moment, I resettled my stance. From our brief exchange, I realized the Scarecrow’s strength was formidable, and its vital spots were heavily guarded. Without sufficient speed and accuracy, striking its weak point would be nearly impossible. Yet, hitting that spot was far from easy. In that instant, Feng's teachings on the essence of the thrust, which he had imparted on the lawn, flooded my mind. Clearly, against the Scarecrow, the technique of thrusting was the absolute key.

The essence of the thrust: keep the arms and waist relaxed, coordinate with footwork. Once a target is chosen, execute the thrust without hesitation. It must be fast, accurate, and ruthless—once the target is set, commit with all your might.

Everything Feng taught repeated in my mind. The mention of the thrust technique involuntarily brought to mind my old friends from my previous life, Tiantian and Long Ge. Those two were national fencing champions and would often drag me out as a sword target during their free time. Over time, I had actually picked up some basic fencing techniques. I just didn't know if these skills would translate now that I was in a different body. However, hesitation was not an option now. I calmed myself and carefully observed the Scarecrow before me. The Scarecrow, having missed its blow, quickly adjusted its posture and charged, much like before. Its stiff arms swept toward me again.

I knew the critical moment lay in the instant the Scarecrow attacked. Suppressing the urge to retreat, I fixed my eyes directly between the Scarecrow’s sweeping arms. As the arms drew nearer, I cautiously backed away a few steps. Just as I narrowly avoided the Scarecrow’s left arm, the throat area guarded between its two arms became perfectly clear before my eyes.

Now! With almost no hesitation, the Iron Sword in my hand shot out like lightning toward the Scarecrow’s throat.

Slish!

Thump!

Almost at the same moment my sword connected, the Scarecrow’s counter-swinging arm slammed viciously into my chest. The terrifying force sent me flying backward, but I was certain my sword had found the Scarecrow’s throat as I was thrown.

Crack! Thump!

I landed hard. Fighting the urge to vomit blood, I forced myself to stand, only to see the shattered Scarecrow dissolving into a burst of flame, then settling into a pile of ash.

Phew! That was close; I finally got rid of it. As my tension eased, the sharp pain across my entire body surged back. Clearly, being struck three times by the Scarecrow's sweeps had left me badly injured. But the victory of my first real battle filled me with wild elation.

That final straight thrust felt divinely guided—it was incredibly fast and incredibly accurate. Most importantly, that thrust contained the full force of my entire body.

I was certain I had never executed such a strike in all my past training. Only now did I vaguely grasp the true essence of the 'thrust' technique: a simple stab incorporated movement, force, and footwork—all crucial elements. Only by fully utilizing these could the strike unleash its true power. Real combat is brutal; life and death are often decided in the blink of an eye. I slumped powerlessly onto the ground, carefully savoring the wondrous feeling of that last strike. I knew that although I had only killed a Scarecrow, this fight had impacted me profoundly, completely unlike sparring on the lawn or fencing with Tiantian and Long Ge in the sword room. In that moment, I clearly felt the unified effect of speed, technique, and power merging. On the other hand, I deeply realized that only in real combat, only in a critical moment of life or death, could I unlock my true potential. Undeniably, I understood that only real combat could hone my strength. Though my stamina was limited, applying that limited stamina properly was enough to kill my opponent. Understanding this brought a sense of sudden enlightenment. Perhaps my past extreme pursuit of a robust physique was entirely unsuitable for my style. At this moment, I felt confident. I believed I had found the path of cultivation suited for me.

Once my stamina recovered, I found another solitary Scarecrow and engaged it in battle. Perhaps having overcome the psychological fear and tension, the Scarecrow's attacks and flaws became increasingly clear to my eyes. Nevertheless, at the moment my sword hit the Scarecrow’s throat, I could not avoid being struck by the Scarecrow’s final blow, enduring intense pain.

Staring at the Scarecrow that had turned to ash, I sat down again to reflect. Clearly, while I had the capability to kill the Scarecrow, I could not evade its final strike. What was going on? I was sure my thrust had a flaw. Was it a problem with my technique? Or perhaps with my body movement and footwork?

I began contemplating how to evade that final blow while simultaneously slaying the Scarecrow. Perhaps the force of my thrust was too overwhelming, leaving no room or opportunity to quickly withdraw. At this moment, I recalled the set of footwork and body movements that complemented fencing techniques—movements Long Ge had taught me. Long Ge said this footwork was about controlling distance; in fencing, footwork is vital; a swordsman with excellent footwork could arguably remain undefeated. Sadly, I hadn't paid close attention when learning it. But looking back now, I was certain that no skill could embody the essence of the 'thrust' as perfectly as fencing techniques. They always used nimble footwork and body movements to deliver a fatal thrust the instant they avoided an enemy attack, and then used agile movements to evade the counterattack. No matter how strong an opponent, one facing a supremely skilled fencer would always be constrained, unable to fight freely. In fencing, strength is not the absolute factor; speed and technique are the keys to victory. And without a doubt, fencing was perfectly suited for me, lacking as I was in raw power.

Having made up my mind, I resolved to attempt integrating the essence of fencing into my basic swordsmanship, while trying my best to recall the footwork I had practiced before.

Selecting another isolated Scarecrow, I began experimenting with the new attack method. Holding the Iron Sword in my right hand, I leveled it forward. It felt a little heavy, but still manageable.

I tried to keep my footwork as relaxed as possible, moving in an irregular alternating pattern.

Whoosh! Soon, the Scarecrow's earth-shattering sweep arrived horizontally across my middle. I carefully controlled my steps, maintaining an appropriate distance. Almost at the very instant the Scarecrow’s throat was exposed, I surged forward, thrusting the Iron Sword out like lightning. Simultaneously, I shifted my foot slightly; as I struck, my entire body was already retracting quickly.

Swish! The Scarecrow’s arm swept past, almost brushing my chest. Then, thump, it disintegrated, finally erupting in smoke and flames, turning to ash.

Success! I stared at the Iron Sword in my hand in disbelief. I had actually dodged the final blow. Moreover, that previous strike—both the attack and the retreat—was astonishingly fast, and the stamina consumed was negligible; I didn't even feel the need to gasp for breath.

At this moment, I knew my guiding principle was correct. Overjoyed, I almost let out a triumphant roar to the heavens.

It took a moment to calm my wildly excited mood. It seemed I needed to practice diligently now and perfect this set of sword techniques as soon as possible.

I soon found another solitary Scarecrow and, in what was virtually a single exchange, killed it with one thrust of my sword, remaining completely unharmed. This success inflated my confidence tremendously. It seemed battling one Scarecrow was no longer an issue; now it was time to test my abilities in a group fight.

With that thought, I stopped looking for lone Scarecrows and charged directly toward three Scarecrows standing close together nearby. Before they could even attack, I struck first, killing one instantly with my initial sword stroke. The attacks from the other two simultaneously swept towards me. In a flash, I executed a forward-stepping kick, maneuvering myself aside, and in the same instant, thrust my sword with astonishing speed into the throat of another Scarecrow. Thrust, retreat, with virtually no gap—in the blink of an eye, I had killed the second one.

Then, after evading the final Scarecrow’s sweep, I dispatched it casually with a final sword stroke.

The three Scarecrows were eliminated with surprising ease.

Incredible—it was that simple. This lesson once again confirmed that the path I had chosen was absolutely right. My confidence swelling immensely, I was no longer satisfied killing groups of three. I decided to seek out a cluster of four Scarecrows to begin my assault.

However, while killing the last of the four, I was finally struck hard by the counterattack of the final Scarecrow.

Ugh! Hah! Forcing back the churning blood in my chest, it seemed my body movement was still inadequate; I failed to dodge the last Scarecrow’s attack. It appeared I needed to strengthen my movement training next time.

By this time, the sun had climbed to the very center of the sky. It seemed time to head home for lunch. I hadn't realized four hours had flown by in the blink of an eye. This excursion of practical training had yielded immense rewards.