Sai stood at the edge of the Black Fang’s camp, his gaze cold as he observed the crude tents and scattered supplies. The stench of unwashed bodies and damp earth filled the air, but he remained unfazed. Turning to the bandit he had captured, he asked in a calm yet commanding voice, "What's your name?"

  The man hesitated, his throat dry before he finally muttered, "Sam."

  Sai’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And your leader?"

  At the mere mention of his leader, Sam’s body stiffened. His breath hitched, and fear flickered in his eyes. The man was clearly terrified. "He's... he's a maniac," Sam admitted, his voice trembling. "He enjoys torturing the weak for fun. Even though he's strong, he preys on those who can't fight back."

  Sai frowned but didn’t react much beyond that. He simply continued walking forward, pushing Sam ahead.

  As they neared the camp, the other bandits took notice. Sai made no effort to hide himself, walking openly among them. A burly man stepped forward, eyes sharp with suspicion. "Oi, Sam! Where’s the rest of the group? And who the hell is this?"

  Sam swallowed hard, knowing he had already messed up by bringing an outsider in without warning. But he had no choice now. Forcing himself to respond, he stammered, "He... he wants to join us. The others are out scouting."

  His hands trembled at his sides, his lie as shaky as his voice.

  Seeing that something was wrong, the burly bandit’s expression darkened. His muscles tensed as he stepped forward, intent on teaching both Sam and Sai a brutal lesson.

  Before he could react, a blade tore through the air with deadly precision, cutting deep into his chest. Blood splattered as he staggered back, his face twisting in pain. The other bandits, shocked for a moment, quickly snapped out of it and prepared to attack.

  Sai, however, had no intention of wasting time fighting a swarm of bandits. In an instant, he dashed toward the entrance, his movements swift and calculated. Fighting all of them head-on was pointless. Instead, he focused his perception, scanning his surroundings before slipping into the depths of the camp.

  Inside, he found himself in a dimly lit cave. The damp air carried the scent of decay, and as he took in his surroundings, he realized what this place truly was—a prison. His gaze landed on a group of captives, huddled in the darkness. Women and children, their eyes hollow, their expressions devoid of hope.

  At the sight of someone entering, they flinched, their bodies trembling. Fear reflected in their eyes as they stared at Sai, uncertain whether he was another tormentor or something else entirely.

  In a different cell, a group of merchants and women sat shackled to the cold stone walls. Their clothes were tattered, their faces gaunt from starvation and exhaustion. Some of the merchants still had a glimmer of defiance in their eyes, likely mistaking themselves for adventurers who could still fight back. But the heavy chains around their wrists told a different story.

  Sai didn’t waste any time. His goal was clear—the leader. He dashed deeper into the cave, following the sound of distant cries. The echoes of pain and cruelty led him to a heavy wooden door. From within, deep, agonized screams filled the air, accompanied by the sickening sound of a whip cracking against flesh.

  Slipping inside silently, Sai took in the gruesome sight before him. A man, dressed in a crude leather coat, stood in the center of the room, a cruel grin on his face. He wielded a hunter’s whip, bringing it down on a helpless woman tied to a post. Every strike was followed by laughter, as if her suffering was nothing more than entertainment.

  Sai’s eyes turned cold. Without hesitation, he gripped his sword and lunged. The blade sliced through the air, aiming for the bandit leader’s neck.

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  But the man wasn’t entirely careless—his survival instincts kicked in at the last moment. He twisted his body just enough to avoid a fatal blow, but not without consequence. Sai’s blade grazed his shoulder, cutting through flesh. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his coat.

  The leader stumbled back, his laughter replaced by a furious snarl. His eyes locked onto Sai, filled with a mixture of shock and rage.

  The bandit leader stumbled back, clutching his wounded shoulder, his face twisting with rage. His eyes burned with fury as he barked, "Who the hell are you!?"

  Sai didn't bother answering. Instead, he stepped forward, his sword flashing through the air once more, aiming for the leader’s neck.

  Clang!

  Steel met steel as the bandit leader drew his own weapon at the last moment, deflecting Sai’s attack. Sparks flew as the force of the clash echoed through the chamber. The leader gritted his teeth, the weight behind Sai’s strike forcing him a step back.

  Sai wasted no time. He pressed forward, unleashing a relentless flurry of slashes and thrusts. His movements were swift, refined—nothing like the raw, untrained strength he had when he first arrived in this world. Each strike carried precision, his perception guiding him to the slightest openings.

  The bandit leader, though strong, was no fool. He countered with wild, powerful swings, aiming to overwhelm Sai with brute force. His attacks were reckless but carried weight, each blow attempting to break through Sai’s guard.

  Sai, however, wasn’t the same person who struggled in his earlier fights. His footwork was sharp, his movements fluid. He sidestepped a downward slash, pivoting smoothly to the leader’s exposed side and slashing upward. The leader barely managed to twist his body, but the tip of Sai’s blade carved another wound across his ribs.

  The bandit cursed, his breathing ragged. "You... you’re not some random fool, are you?" he spat, frustration creeping into his voice.

  Sai’s only response was another strike, his sword descending with ruthless efficiency. The leader barely blocked in time, but his grip faltered, his strength waning under the relentless assault.

  Sai felt it—his own improvement. His swordsmanship was sharper, his reactions faster, his attacks more refined. Every move was a step above what he could do before. This wasn't just a battle; it was proof of his growth.

  The leader panted, sweat mixing with the blood trickling down his wounds. His earlier arrogance faded, replaced with the grim realization that he was being hunted.

  The bandit leader’s breathing grew heavier, his grip on his sword tightening as he stared at Sai with a mix of fury and unease. The way Sai moved—the precision, the fluidity—it wasn’t something an ordinary swordsman could achieve overnight.

  But Sai didn’t give him time to dwell on it. He lunged again, his sword slicing through the air like a streak of silver. The bandit leader barely managed to parry, but the force of the strike sent vibrations up his arm. Sai pressed forward, his blade a blur as he unleashed a relentless series of attacks.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Their swords clashed in rapid succession, the sound of steel against steel echoing through the chamber. Sai moved with purpose, his strikes calculated, forcing the leader into a desperate defensive stance. He wasn’t just swinging wildly—every slash tested the leader’s reaction, every feint probed for weaknesses.

  The leader gritted his teeth, swinging his sword in a wide arc, attempting to break Sai’s momentum. But Sai ducked under the strike, his footwork flawless, before twisting his body and countering with a sharp thrust toward the leader’s exposed side.

  The bandit barely managed to twist out of the way, but Sai’s blade still grazed his side, leaving another shallow cut. Blood seeped through his tattered coat, his body growing sluggish with every wound he accumulated.

  "Tch! You little shit!" the leader snarled, frustration clear in his voice. He took a step back, then suddenly lunged forward, his blade coming down in a brutal overhead slash.

  Sai’s eyes sharpened. His perception caught the attack before it even reached him, and he reacted instinctively. Instead of blocking head-on, he sidestepped at the last moment, letting the blade miss him by inches. With a sharp pivot, he slashed diagonally—this time, the leader wasn’t fast enough to dodge completely.

  Slash!

  A deep wound opened across the bandit leader’s chest. He staggered back, his sword dipping slightly as he coughed out a mouthful of blood. His movements were growing sluggish, his stance unsteady. Sai could see it now—the gap between them was widening.

  This wasn’t just a fight anymore. It was proof of his progress. The raw instincts and desperate movements he once relied on had now become something more refined. His footwork was smoother, his strikes sharper, his mind clearer. He wasn’t simply reacting—he was predicting, controlling the flow of battle.

  And his opponent? He was breaking.