My Cultivation Has a Progress Bar

Shangjing City.

In previous years, the southern part of the city would be bustling when spring arrived in March. Caravans from all over Zhongzhou would crowd the streets and alleys. Inns and merchant guilds, in particular, would be swamped with people, and there were at least several hundred brawls and fights to deal with every day.

But this year, the streets were nearly empty, with only the occasional cart passing by, transporting the corpses of slaves.

Stranger still, the countless slaves who once filled the city had vanished. Only when members of a few prominent families went out could one occasionally see slaves following and serving them.

Furthermore, in previous years, tens of thousands of slaves would be toiling in the farmlands stretching as far as the eye could see outside the city after spring’s arrival. This year, however, the fields were desolate. Not a single person could be seen in the endless farmland.

On a pier east of the southern city’s canal, a dozen or so government ships were docked. A battalion of the Imperial Guard was stationed on the suitably arranged pier, and the cyan glow of a Monitoring Array pulsed periodically, sweeping over every inch of the dock.

On the outskirts of the pier, constables from the Government Offices of the southern city districts stood guard. Among them was Zi Hong, Wang Ping’s first puppet and the disciple he had taken under his wing. He and twenty other constables were guarding the main intersection leading from the city’s North-South Street to the pier.

The quiet of the street lasted from the time Zi Hong started his shift until after their lunch break ended. Then, the silent North Street was finally disturbed by a flurry of chaotic footsteps.

A quarter of an hour later, several thousand slaves slowly approached, escorted by a small cavalry squad.

Seeing this, the constables behind Zi Hong didn’t wait for his order. They opened the barricaded road and stood obediently on either side of the entrance, silently watching as the cavalry squad escorted the slaves to the pier and loaded them onto the long-waiting government ships.

Half an hour later, another cavalry squad came down North Street, escorting more slaves. Zi Hong watched them enter the pier with the same calm demeanor. By the time his shift ended, a total of eight such groups had passed through the checkpoint they guarded, and Zi Hong had watched each one in silence.

After his shift, a colleague suggested they go for a drink. By the time they finished eating and drinking, it was already 7:45 PM. The curfew would begin in an hour.

Zi Hong walked toward his small courtyard, one hand resting on the broadsword at his waist. The streets were empty except for the occasional City Defense Camp patrol. From deep within the alleys, he could sometimes hear the cries of children and the scolding of adults from inside the courtyards.

As he reached the entrance to the alley of his courtyard, he subconsciously glanced at the empty space on the corner. A mutton soup stall used to be there at this time of night. He had particularly enjoyed sitting by the street and having a bowl of mutton soup on his way home.

Entering the alley, he heard a familiar snore, and his pace quickened slightly.

When he reached the gate of his courtyard, Zi Hong’s brow twitched. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his broadsword and called out, "Qi’Er?"

The "Qi’Er" he called out to was, of course, the puppet Huang Qi, whom Wang Ping had created when he first came here. At the time, Wang Ping had instructed him to become Zi Hong’s apprentice, making him Zi Hong’s only disciple.

There was no response from inside.

Since Zi Hong and Huang Qi were both Wang Ping’s puppets, a special connection existed between them. However, under normal circumstances, only puppets who received special attention from Wang Ping, such as Zi Hong, possessed such a link.

At this moment, Zi Hong was certain someone had come looking for him.

’If I were more rational, I would turn and leave right now, then find a way to escape Shangjing City. With my body, which is as strong as a Second Realm Cultivator’s, I might actually be able to get away. Since I’ve only ever shown the strength of the Foundation Establishment Stage, the people sent to capture me probably aren’t too powerful. I could catch them off guard.’

But the humanity that had developed within Zi Hong made him hesitate for two breaths. Then, with a BANG, he kicked the courtyard gate open.

SWOOSH!

The sound of two arrows slicing through the air rang out in succession, their cold glints flashing in the night sky.

As Zi Hong formed a Spell with his hands, the broadsword at his waist unsheathed itself and spun rapidly in front of him. This was the simplest form of the Sword Control Technique. With two crisp metallic CLANGS, the arrows were deflected.

"YAH!"

A piercing shriek echoed in the night as a black ghostly claw appeared before Zi Hong. Searing heat assaulted him from the left and right.

The ghostly claw in front of him came from a Foundation Establishment Stage Taiyin Cultivator, while the searing heat from his sides was Magic cast by Fire Cultivators. The gentle expression Zi Hong had cultivated from his time serving in the Government Office turned icy in that instant. Facing the ghostly hand rushing toward him, he pushed off with his feet, not retreating but advancing.

PFFT!

The black ghostly hand struck Zi Hong’s chest, shredding his clothes but failing to injure his body. Meanwhile, Zi Hong had already shot forward at extreme speed, appearing before the Taiyin Foundation Establishment Cultivator.

SQUELCH!

BOOM!

An explosion of flames lit up most of the courtyard. At the same time, Zi Hong’s broadsword sliced the stunned Taiyin Cultivator in front of him in half at the waist. Steaming hot blood splattered across half of Zi Hong’s face.

THUD, THUD.

Stepping through the blood splattered on the ground, Zi Hong charged into the house in front of him.

His cultivated divine soul swiftly scanned the dark room. The coldness on his face deepened. Next to a simple wooden table in the center of the room, Huang Qi lay with a gaping hole where his heart should have been. His heart had been removed, and all the spiritual nature in his body had been incinerated by Fire Spirit Qi.

WHOOSH.

Zi Hong let out a long breath and quickly composed himself. He gave Huang Qi one last look and then decisively exited the room. The two Fire Cultivators who had flanked him earlier had witnessed his strength and chosen to flee after he entered the house.

He looked up at the sky. A green signal flare rose from the alley to his left.

SWOOSH!

He leaped out of the small courtyard. Just as he was about to flee toward the city’s outskirts, streaks of light shot across the sky, accompanied by piercing sonic booms.

They were Entering Cultivators.

At the same time, massive columns of fire erupted in the direction of Qianmu Temple’s internal affairs station in the southern city, as well as in many other directions!

Zi Hong didn’t dare use the Cloud Soaring Technique. He ducked into a familiar alley and pulled two Blessing Talismans from his storage pouch to conceal his aura.

A dozen or so breaths later, he was looking at the city wall, now in sight. He made two great leaps, landing near the wall. The monitoring devices on the wall immediately detected his presence!

But Zi Hong didn’t stop. He leaped, tanking the damage while simultaneously cutting down two Foundation Establishment Stage soldiers who tried to block him, and landed in a deserted farmhouse outside the city walls.

With a cacophony of military orders echoing behind him, Zi Hong continued to flee south. His destination was the Chu Country’s military camp, a hundred li away. He took out a Puppet Bird, linked his memories to the Array Rune inside it, and copied them over. Then, he used his last Blessing Talisman to conceal its aura before setting it free.

Just then, the sound of tearing air grew louder in Zi Hong’s ears, and he felt the temperature around him begin to rise rapidly.

FWOOSH!

Just as the temperature around Zi Hong reached a critical point, the Spiritual Qi in the air ignited. The flames, seemingly alive, swarmed toward him. At the critical moment, a deep green barrier materialized around his body.

It was the Armor Talisman Wang Ping had left on Zi Hong.

"I’ll handle this!"

An angry roar echoed from the sky. A dozen or so daggers spun together, forming a perfect kill formation in the air that made space itself tremble. In the blink of an eye, it appeared above Zi Hong’s head, swaying back and forth to follow his movements as if it had locked onto his aura.

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