Zhiyu followed silently as the spider-masked woman led him through the narrow, dimly lit corridor.
The air smelled faintly of damp stone and old metal, and the walls seemed to close in, pressing uncomfortably on his shoulders.
When they reached the door to the left, a sharp creak echoed as the heavy metal swung open.
Zhiyu froze for a moment.
Creeeak.
Inside, five figures stood near the same height as him, all appearing to be about the same age.
Their postures were stiff, their movements measured. Torchlight flickered across their faces, revealing sharp eyes and unreadable expressions.
The spider-masked woman stepped forward, raising her hand high.
"Hello everyone! Please welcome your neeeewww comrade!" she said cheerfully, though there was a hint of tension in her posture.
"..."
She seemed uncomfortable under the intense stares of the five.
Zhiyu could feel it too.
Their gazes weren't curious... they were cold, skeptical, almost disdainful.
"C'mon!" she continued, her voice a little higher now.
"Why are all of you so boring?" She sighed dramatically and shook her head.
"Anyway, this is your new comrade in this department."
Zhiyu's brain immediately picked up on her words.
'Department? he thought. What kind of assassin's sect has departments? This sounds like some strange college.'
The woman continued before he could ask aloud. "This is the smallest number of students in the new batch. And yes, all of you—even the others—will only assassinate one person."
Zhiyu's eyes widened slightly.
'One person? Out of all of them? That… that's insane.'
She must have read his thoughts, because she said casually, "Don't misunderstand. The one you will be killing is far stronger than you can imagine. Not physically alone—mentally, spiritually, in every way. That is why you are trained like this."
Zhiyu tilted his head, trying to process.
"Now," she said, raising her tone again, "you need to train physically, mentally, and spiritually. This department is called the Mind Department. Basically, the black stone you all touched marked you as compatible to learn certain mind techniques."
She gestured to the five kids standing silently. "To explain briefly, there are three major techniques immortals focus on; Mind, Soul, and Flesh."
Zhiyu's eyes flicked from her to the five others, their faces still unreadable, and then back to her.
'Mind, Soul, Flesh… he thought, chewing on the words. So it's not just physical training… I have to control myself, my spirit, and… my body? That actually sounds… complicated.'
He flexed his fingers slightly, still sore from his previous ordeal, and tried to gauge the others.
'And these five… are they all as detached as me? Or are they better off being fully human vessels? I need to watch them.'
The spider-masked woman clapped her hands lightly. "Don't worry! You'll all learn. It's… intense, but you're all compatible. Just keep up."
Zhiyu forced a small nod, trying to process everything while keeping his curiosity and caution active.
He stepped fully into the room, glancing at the five others, and silently began taking mental notes.
...
The first month in the Mind Department was worse than anything Zhao Zhiyu had experienced so far.
He quickly realized that survival here was not just about staying alive... it was about enduring the body-breaking, soul-testing routine the spider-masked woman imposed.
She explained bluntly: "All of you have unstable souls. You can't cultivate or train techniques yet. Your bodies need tampering first. That means your muscles, your reflexes, your stamina—everything. You will learn to survive before you learn to fight."
The exercises started immediately.
Every day, from before dawn until well past the faint torchlight hours, Zhiyu and the others were forced to move, stretch, run, climb, lift, and hold positions that made him feel as though his bones were going to shatter.
Even the warm-up felt brutal: push-ups until his arms quivered uncontrollably, squats that made his legs feel like lead, crawling through narrow tunnels filled with dirt and shards of stone, and dragging heavy logs across the corridor to strengthen their grip and endurance.
He was introduced to the five kids in his small department, whose names he quickly memorized for reference: Xi Sheng, the quiet one with sharp, calculating eyes; Li Na, wiry and fast, though she moved with constant tension; Chen Yu, broad-shouldered and stubborn, always challenging himself to lift more than he should; Fang Jie, quiet, small, but with lightning-fast reflexes; and Mei Ling, whose calm demeanor hid a ruthless determination that made Zhiyu uneasy.
At first, everyone kept their distance, silently testing each other while focusing on the exercises.
Zhiyu did the same, mentally cataloging strengths, weaknesses, and potential behaviors.
'Xi Sheng calculates before moving. Li Na can dart like a cat but tires fast. Chen Yu… too confident. Fang Jie reacts faster than I can predict. Mei Ling… doesn't reveal anything...' he thought.
Every day brought exhaustion and more pain.
His muscles ached constantly, and some nights he could barely crawl back to the corner where he rested.
Sleep was often interrupted by soreness or nightmares that made his body twitch involuntarily.
Mistakes were punished. Not with words, but with pain.
The spider-masked woman or her assistants would force anyone who fell behind into extra exercises: running laps through the tunnels with rocks strapped to their backs, holding impossible positions until their hands and legs were numb, or crawling on cold stone floors for hours.
Sometimes they would be exposed to environmental hazards—water, ice, sharp surfaces—to punish slowness or clumsiness.
Zhiyu endured.
He had no choice.
Every failure reminded him of the centipede, the poison, the black stones, and the fact that the world he was in didn't forgive weakness.
During the breaks, he took notes in his mind. 'Grip strength is key. Legs tire faster than arms, so alternate. Keep core tight to avoid injury. Watch Mei Ling for timing—she's consistent. Chen Yu overestimates his limits, Li Na underestimates hers.'
He started to notice patterns in the exercises, subtly finding ways to preserve energy while still completing the tasks.
For example, during log drags, he leaned into his back muscles and adjusted his footing to reduce strain on his arms.
When climbing narrow tunnels, he moved slowly and deliberately, using friction against the walls to support his weight.
Months... or what felt like months compressed into the hellish first thirty days, passed this way.
The body began to respond differently, muscles tightening, reflexes sharpening.
Zhiyu's stamina improved, though he was always sore, and the constant mental evaluation of the others became a second nature.
Punishments remained constant reminders.
Anyone who slacked or failed would face multiple rounds, and sometimes it was not physical.
Some were locked in freezing corners of the tunnel network for hours with no food, no water, no light, to force them to endure.
Zhiyu never reached that point, but he saw the others pushed and understood quickly that survival depended on cooperation and consistency... even if the cooperation was only silent.
By the end of the first month, Zhiyu's body was stronger, more responsive, but his soul still hummed with instability.
He had learned, however, that discipline and observation could carry him through the worst.
After a month of brutal physical training, Zhiyu had begun to get a rough sense of the place.
He knew the layout of his tunnels, the rough corridors, the storage areas, and even the direction of the torch-lit halls, but the facility itself was massive, far bigger than he could ever explore alone.
'How big is this place even?' he thought as he ran through the corridors, mapping each turn and passage in his mind.
'And they never even tried brainwashing us… if they did, it should've happened already.'
He had adjusted to the tasteless, often contaminated food. It didn't delight him, but he could eat it without gagging now.
His body responded differently, and hunger had become a predictable rhythm instead of a panic.
One day, the spider-masked woman appeared and called them into the same room where the black stones had first tested them.
The dim torchlight made the walls flicker and cast moving shadows across the floor. Zhiyu's legs ached, but he followed her carefully, observing every detail.
Without a word, she opened what seemed like a storage ring and began tossing books, scrolls, and mantras onto the floor. They fell in a clattering mess, sliding and scattering, and Zhiyu froze for a moment.
'Where the hell are these coming from?' he thought, staring at the piles.
'A storage ring? That's… so cool!'
She gestured for them to do as they pleased. "These are yours now. Study, test, or experiment. Do what you want with them. Now that your souls are stable, you should notice something important."
Zhiyu tilted his head.
"The soul you consumed," she continued, her tone almost casual, "will start to act up from now on. You'll feel its influence."
Zhiyu's eyes widened slightly. 'Side effects? Really' he thought.
He could already feel a subtle warmth inside him, like a distant pulse or rhythm that wasn't entirely his own.
'So it's not just numbers in a panel,' he mused. 'The centipede's soul is… reacting to me, or I'm reacting to it. How scary...'
He bent down, picked up a few books, flipping through pages filled with diagrams and mantras.
Some were strange symbols, others were basic exercises for soul manipulation.
'Alright,' he thought, 'no one's holding a gun to me right now. Let's see what I can actually do.'
He started testing small exercises, focusing on moving his soul threads, sensing the lingering presence of the centipede's consciousness, trying to match its rhythm.
Every attempt made him feel faintly dizzy, like his body and soul were slightly misaligned, but he persisted.
'If I can control this… even a little… it might save my life later,' he thought, setting the books carefully on the floor in a makeshift order.
The dim light, the scattered books, the faint pulse of the consumed soul... all of it felt strange.