Chapter 42: Lin the Demon King

"Lingxi was taken away by the Divine General; it seems he’s taking her on a training expedition. She greeted me this morning, saw Itachi weren’t there, and left."

"If Itachi need a sparring partner for your special training, I’ll apply to join—I’m the only one left."

Before Jiang Xia could speak, Lin Qing’s voice came from the end of the corridor—no longer her usual gentle tone, but chillingly cold.

"No need to apply. Itachi two train together. Starting today, twelve hours a day, in the simulation chamber."

As the alloy door of the underground simulation chamber slowly lowered, Jiang Xia finally understood the weight of the words “can’t afford to lose.”

Lin Qing threw him not ordinary weights, but a shackle embedded with fragments of Zhu Yan scales—each step drove malevolent energy into the crevices of his bones.

“Hold it,” Zhao Lie’s voice echoed through the empty simulation chamber.

“Only when Itachi can use your ability beyond your current realm while wearing this shackle will Itachi pass the first trial.”

On the first night, Jiang Xia leaned against the chamber wall, gasping, blood tears streaming from his overused Mangekyo Sharingan.

When morning light seeped through the simulation chamber’s ventilation window, Jiang Xia woke to the piercing pain in the crevices of his bones.

The shackle embedded with Zhu Yan scales had taken root; iron spikes hooked into his flesh.

A slight movement sent fine shards of malevolent energy slithering through his wounds into his meridians, numbing his fingertips.

Wang Teng lay curled on the floor nearby, his combat suit torn, blood foam still clinging to his lips.

Seeing Jiang Xia open his eyes, he forced a grin worse than a sob: “This damn thing… hurts more than being beaten by the Earth King.”

Jiang Xia said nothing, pushed himself up against the wall—his knees trembled weakly.

Lin Qing’s voice suddenly drifted from the shadows: “What are Itachi standing there for? Half an hour warm-up, then ten kilometers with weights—no using your ability!”

At his feet lay two bundles of iron-sand-weighted straps; the hard ground was indented beneath their weight.

For the entire day’s ten kilometers, Jiang Xia dragged the shackle step by step.

Each step felt like walking on knife tips; destructive energy surged wildly through his veins, darkening his vision multiple times.

Near the finish line, Wang Teng suddenly collapsed. Jiang Xia turned back, gritted his teeth, and half-dragged, half-carried him forward.

Lin Qing stood at the finish line, arms crossed, silent—until they crossed the line, when she tossed them two vials: “Drink them. Resume in ten minutes.”

Wang Teng groaned on the ground: “How did Deputy Commander Lin turn into a demon king? Old Jiang, I should’ve never joined Itachi!”

Jiang Xia gritted his teeth and drank the vial: “Stop whining. If we survive this, next time we meet Zhou Hao, we’ll crush him effortlessly!”

“Feng’s! Let’s go!”

On the third day, the simulation chamber’s environment changed abruptly.

The alloy floor vanished, replaced by a damp, dense forest; the air reeked of beastly stench, every tree scarred with claw marks.

Lin Qing’s voice pierced through the rain, icy and sharp: “Today’s training: evasion. Within half an hour, avoid the Shadow Leopards and retrieve the signal flag at the canyon’s end.”

“Remember: the shackle must stay on. Use your ability once, add ten kilometers as punishment.”

Before she finished speaking, several Shadow Leopards burst from the forest depths, their fur soaked by rain, claws carving deep grooves in the mud.

Jiang Xia dragged Wang Teng behind a tree; no sooner had they steadied themselves than one Shadow Leopard bypassed Jiang Xia and targeted the weaker Wang Teng.

“Damn! This beast picks the soft targets!” Wang Teng cursed—but didn’t dodge. Instead, he clenched his fist and took the leopard’s claw head-on.

His combat suit tore instantly; blood mixed with rainwater trickled down.

But his other hand seized the leopard’s neck and slammed it hard against the tree trunk.

Jiang Xia seized the chance to dash out—but hadn’t run two steps when the leopard’s tail wrapped around his ankle.

His knees buckled, plunging him into the mud; the leopard’s claws loomed over his back.

“Old Jiang!” Wang Teng roared, hurling a stone that struck the leopard’s eye.

Jiang Xia rolled to his feet, grabbed the shackle, and whipped it hard into the leopard’s belly.

The leopard shrieked and recoiled, its fur beginning to shed.

Back-to-back in the rain, they gasped for breath. Wang Teng’s arm still bled, yet he grinned.

“Didn’t expect this damn shackle had uses like this.”

Jiang Xia said nothing, wiped rain and blood from his face with his sleeve, eyes fixed on the signal flag at the canyon’s end.

Half an hour later, the two stood before Lin Qing, battered and bleeding, holding the signal flag.

Lin Qing tossed them two dried towels: “No sleeping tonight. Train evasion all night.”

At dawn, the simulation chamber’s environment shifted: rain turned to scorching sand.

The sun hung overhead, baking the desert like an iron plate; heatwaves warped the air.

Jiang Xia looked down at the iron-sand weights on his feet; the ointment applied to last night’s leopard wounds now stuck uncomfortably in the heat.

Wang Teng had already stripped off his combat suit, leaving only a vest: “Deputy Commander Lin wants to roast us into jerky!”

“Today’s mission: use your ability to find ten spirit stones buried in the sand. Return before noon.”

Lin Qing’s voice remained as cold and rigid as ever: “The spirit stones are guarded by beasts… and…”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over them: “This desert shifts. Take the wrong path, and Itachi’ll never escape.”

Jiang Xia immediately activated his Mangekyo Sharingan; his ocular technique pierced the flowing sand, faintly spotting red glimmers beneath a nearby dune.

“Over there.” He dragged Wang Teng toward the dune—no sooner had they stepped on it than the sand beneath them began to sink!

“Shit! There’s quicksand too!” Wang Teng struggled to climb out—but sank faster.

Jiang Xia dropped to his knees and hurled the shackle’s chain: “Grab it! Don’t move!”

The moment the chain touched Wang Teng’s hand, a sand worm erupted from below, its fangs glinting coldly, lunging for Wang Teng’s leg.

“Old Jiang, get out of here!” Wang Teng roared, grabbing a stone and hurling it at the worm.

Jiang Xia didn’t loosen his grip—he pulled with all his strength: “Stop talking! We leave together!”

He channeled his last remaining ability through the chain, transmitting it to Wang Teng.

The shackle’s malevolent energy didn’t backlash—it entwined with his ability, forming a faint barrier that repelled the sand worm.

The two crawled onto solid ground, covered in sand. Wang Teng spat out a mouthful, grinned, and slapped Jiang Xia’s shoulder.

“Not bad—Itachi actually learned to control this damn shackle.”

Jiang Xia shook his head, fingers still numb; that last move had felt like grinding his meridians to dust and reassembling them.

At noon, they returned to the starting point, clutching ten scorching spirit stones.

Lin Qing looked at their wounds—and for the first time, didn’t immediately assign the next task.

She tossed them two chilled nutrient vials: “Rest for an hour. Afternoon: combined attack training.”

When the day’s training ended, Wang Teng lay sprawled on the ground, unable to move a finger.

“Just one more day and we’re free! No wonder they say surviving the Night Watcher’s training transforms Itachi—no one could endure this intensity without changing!”

Wang Teng groaned endlessly—he’d never suffered so much in his life.