I Cultivated Too Long and Got Isekai'd Into a Game-Chapter 63: Night Raid (1)

Two hours passed.

Among the three dozen guards, however, only three remained standing.

The rest had already been thrown to the side and allowed to rest—not because they succeeded, but because they ran out of Qi or stamina and fainted.

"I’ll... protect... Young Miss Henrietta...!"

One of the last three was a man relying on nothing but sheer iron will. His Qi was the lowest not only among the survivors but the entire group. Despite his lanky build, he had miraculously come the closest to landing a hit.

Xu Tao could tell this man—Tyler—had great potential, given the right motivation and push.

"Gah...! Just... one punch...!"

Another was a bald, burly man—Grosso.

He wasn’t as strong-willed as Tyler, but his physique was leagues better. The only reason he was still standing was his sheer toughness, driven by a burning desire to crumple Xu Tao’s pretty face.

"Phew..."

The third was a quiet, medium-built man. He looked like the average between Tyler and Grosso.

Roger didn’t stand out much—no, his presence was so faint you’d miss him if you looked away for a split second—but somehow, he had still made it to the end.

All three moved in tandem, each playing a role.

Grosso, using his bulk, led the charge. His massive frame shielded Tyler and Roger, creating a small blind spot that concealed them from Xu Tao’s direct line of sight.

"..."

Of course, Xu Tao’s senses weren’t so dull that "visual" concealment mattered. Still, he remained quiet, smiling confidently as he watched them from his usual standing posture.

"RAAGH!"

Grosso leapt forward, attempting a tackle.

It was a move he’d tried several times—but as expected, he never succeeded. Xu Tao didn’t even budge as he released a bit more pressure, sending Grosso flying like a cannonball into the wall across the room.

"An opening!" Tyler shouted.

Taking advantage of the brief moment when Xu Tao’s "gaze" followed Grosso, the wiry man circled to the side and launched a sharp right hook. It was a clean move—the seventh form of the Ten-Forms Fist King Technique—focused on swiftness and penetrating power.

Even if blocked, the Qi blast that followed should still have damaged Xu Tao. "Should" being the keyword.

"Don’t shout when you’re going for a surprise attack. You’re giving away your edge," Xu Tao chastised, casually waving his arm.

That simple motion turned Tyler into a human projectile—or not.

"Kuh! I... know!"

Tyler shouted, gritting his teeth as he braced himself, arms crossed to block the invisible force.

He lasted a few seconds in that stance before leaning his body to the side, allowing the "force" to glide off his shoulder.

"Oh!" Xu Tao raised his brows, surprised.

It was the first time in two hours that anyone had blocked one of his dulled, invisible Qi Blades! He could tell Tyler hadn’t seen the attack, but had blocked it by sheer instinct—an ability that Xu Tao assessed would become a deadly asset when he grew stronger.

"...!"

And in the next instant, Xu Tao stepped forward.

A fist narrowly missed his back, hitting nothing but air. He smiled slightly and glanced at the silent attacker—Roger.

"Excellent," he praised. "But still a bit lacking."

BAM!

Another invisible Qi Blade shot toward Tyler. He couldn’t block two in a row. He was flung back into the wall.

A second blade followed, aimed at Roger—who joined Tyler and Grosso, all three now groaning in pain, barely clinging to consciousness.

Xu Tao began clapping, not stopping after a few.

They weren’t scolded this time.

"Everyone did well—especially you three," he said, his gaze sweeping over the battered trio. "You not only forced me to take a step, but one of you even managed to block an attack of mine. That’s real progress."

His smile was genuine.

After all, the main purpose of this "torture" was to engrain the Ten-Forms Fist King Technique into their bodies—and it worked. A few still needed polishing, but the technique had taken root.

And that wasn’t all.

The true purpose of Xu Tao’s dulled Qi Blades wasn’t just to knock them around—well, there’s that too—but to precisely force foreign Qi into their meridians. Doing so stimulated and opened their long-dormant and previously untouched meridians and pathways.

This process was agonizing, leading them to believe the Qi Blades themselves caused the pain. But in truth, it was the forceful opening of meridians and Upper Dantian that tortured them.

None seemed to realize it yet—not even the three strongest—but they would soon enough. Eventually, once they tried cultivating on their own.

And there was more.

A basic internal cultivation technique had also been ingrained into them, quietly. The Ten-Forms Fist King Technique carried with it the Natural Qi Breathing Method, seamlessly woven into its movements.

It was the most common breathing technique. Weak in efficiency, yes—but leagues ahead of their current, practically non-existent breathing methods everyone’s using.

CLAP!

"That’s it for today! Rest up and prepare for shift rotation!" Xu Tao called, clapping again.

Although that’s what he said, only three men were still conscious. None of them were in any state to move to proper resting spots on their own.

Having no choice, Xu Tao laid them all out in neat rows. At least they now looked far better than a pile of trash left by the roadside.

He left Tyler, Grosso, and Roger to "watch" the others—though really, he was just humoring their pride—then turned to leave.

"Master, may we ask where you’re going?" the silent Roger asked, curiosity tinged in his voice.

Although surprised by the high-pitched, almost feminine-sounding voice that didn’t match his appearance, Xu Tao turned back, smiling playfully.

"Just a short walk under the moonlight. It won’t take long."

And the moment he said that, his figure vanished—like a ripple in the air.

🔷🔷🔷

Roughly three kilometers away, Xu Tao reappeared atop a fir tree, balanced on its pointy tip like a perched crane on one leg. The cold wind brushed his face as he gazed at the pale yellow moon above, then at the sparse clouds drifting lazily across the night sky.

It was truly a wonderful night, enough that he’s tempted to drink wine towards it.

But then, his gaze dropped, and his smile deepened.

Below, nearly five hundred men marched in silence beneath the trees—careful to keep their movements hidden by the cover of night.

He didn’t need to ask where they were going. There was only one destination in this direction.

Henrietta’s mansion.

"...Looks like this walk will be a bit more exciting," he chuckled.

With a step, he dropped from the tree like a missile.

BOOM!

He landed hard, a cloud of dust blooming around him—but the man stood calmly, untouched by the impact, arms folded inside his sleeves.

"Good evening, visitors," he greeted coolly. "I see a few familiar faces, so... I take it you have arranged a proper appointment this time?"

The atmosphere froze.

A heavy wave of killing intent swept through the forest, weighing down every man present.

Then, from the enemy’s formation, a single woman stepped forward. Her crimson lips curled into a confident smirk.

"Appointment? Why the fuck would a dead man need that?" she said coldly, confidently.

A glint of silver flashed under the moonlight—like a razor-thin thread of steel.

A second later—

Thud...

—something heavy rolled silently across the ground.

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