Chapter Fifty-Three: Analysis and Enhancement

Zhang Xiaorou’s guesses were all off the mark; in truth, Xiao Nan felt wonderful—exceedingly so. Since arriving in this world, his body had never been this robust.

At the same time, an excruciating pain gnawed at him, burrowing into his bones, so intense he nearly howled aloud in agony. Yet he had to endure it. Just moments ago, he had been the heroic youth who struck down the fiendish foe with ruthless decisiveness. To now writhe on the ground and scream in pain—such an image would be utterly ruinous. Though perhaps no one else cared about these things, Xiao Nan cared deeply.

Earlier, when he’d thrust his sword into the heart of the barbarian, he had sensed a strange ripple. Before he could even let go of the hilt to leap away, a spark of golden-red blood, swift as lightning, shot into his chest, burrowing into his birthmark.

His chest seared with heat. Xiao Nan had no time to marvel at the barbarian’s tenacious vitality—heart pierced through, yet the brute lived on for quite a while, still able to strike and struggle, gouging pits into the ground with his last efforts.

Xiao Nan’s focus shifted to the spot of his birthmark. He concentrated, peering into the space within the bronze mirror. His vision swept across the mist-shrouded expanse, where the pool’s surface had begun to ripple quietly. Countless flickers of light and shadow darted within, moving like scenes from a film—there was something familiar about them.

He had never managed to discern the true nature of those scenes, and now was hardly the time for further study. What truly startled him was the new, towering figure upon the plaza—a hulking silhouette with tusked jaws and a savage mien, a physique as broad as a bear.

The figure seemed frozen in place, wreathed in a faint, dull crimson glow, its posture locked in a bellowing, triumphant roar.

“A shadow—at last, another shadow,” Xiao Nan thought.

The first time he had seen such a figure, it had been the image of his sister, Xiao Bei, conjured by the bronze space after her swordplay had struck him. He’d felt a mix of complicated emotions then, but thought little of it beyond a touch of envy. Upon touching that image, he had gained an affinity for swordplay—any technique related to swords became startlingly easy to grasp.

So now, with this second shadow, what might he receive? Evidently, it was not only blood kin whose shadows could be claimed.

Xiao Nan’s heart pounded with excitement, a rare loss of composure for one who prided himself on unwavering calm, even in the face of disaster. The abilities of the bronze mirror were truly miraculous. In recent days, he’d tried many times to capture the shadows of others, never with success; he’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed.

But now, it was clear—he was not limited to benefiting only from his sister. This revelation meant more than he could yet fathom.

In his sudden excitement, all other concerns faded—including the fact that he still stood upon the plaza before the library. Reaching out, he touched the barbarian’s shadow, burning with curiosity over what he might obtain this time.

Previously, when probing the bronze mirror’s space at home, his physical body would lapse into a daze, with little outward change. But now, his finger brushed the barbarian’s image, which rippled and faded into nothingness. Instantly, a strange sensation flooded him—ferocity, wildness, hunger—surging over him like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm his reason.

A boundless pain swept through every fiber of his being. His eyes widened, his skin flushed crimson, his hair bristled, and an aura of murderous intent radiated from his body.

He let out a muffled groan, nearly stumbling as his vision doubled. He dimly saw people approaching with thanks, only to retreat in fear, unwilling to draw near. Zhang Xiaorou was saying something, her tone anxious and worried.

Xiao Nan fought to steady his mind, battling the storm of wild emotion within. He asked the girl to retrieve his sword, then focused on enduring the sudden pain and burgeoning strength.

Yes—strength. He could feel every part of his body subtly adjusting, growing stronger.

His blood coursed through him—first quietly, then with the tinkle of a brook, until at last it surged like the mighty Yangtze, crashing in endless waves against his veins and heart. The sense of fullness and power was both familiar and alien.

Familiar, because in his previous life he had honed his body, felt the surge of vital energy that allowed him to walk bare-chested through winter snow, or train by the edge of a volcano in summer’s heat.

Alien, because this sensation did not last. After the pain came weakness, a gnawing hunger welling up as though every cell in his body were crying out—

So hungry!

“To call it weakness isn’t quite right,” Xiao Nan thought. “It’s strange. My body’s clearly grown stronger, yet my vitality seems diminished.”

He stared at his arm, eyes bloodshot. What once was slender and delicate now bulged with new lines of muscle, veins dark and swollen beneath the skin as though about to burst.

He picked up a pebble, pressed it between two fingers, and with a crisp “crack,” it shattered.

“My strength has increased greatly—just as I predicted.”

He understood now. The savage, violent impulses that assaulted his mind were remnants of the barbarian’s nature. And the changes within his body told him that, in the briefest moment, his flesh and blood had been transformed, optimized from the very foundation.

He was certain: in peak condition, he could now defeat three or four of his former self with ease. He tensed his muscles and thrust out his arm—there was a faint, resonant hum as the air itself was shaken.

“My vitality is down to about 1.2—weakness is real, and understandable. I must have burned through a great deal of energy. A bit of rest and nourishment will restore me. But even in this weakened state, my strength has multiplied. I estimate I now possess the force of seven or eight hundred jin—no less than Lin Hao. Truly bizarre.”

“If others judge me by my vitality, they’ll think I’m weak, but in truth, I’m stronger than ever…”

At this thought, Xiao Nan almost laughed aloud.

Suppressing his restless spirit, he pondered the truth: the bronze mirror did not simply copy talents, but rather analyzed them. It had done so with his sister, and now with the barbarian as well—consuming some mysterious energy within him to enhance his own potential, dissecting the advantages of others and remodeling his body and soul accordingly.

A comprehensive strengthening.

The energy required was not hard to guess. He noticed that the golden patterns he had gained from the villa blood-ritual had now faded, their glow nearly spent.

“No wonder the city lord’s men were so desperate to claim this thing—it’s a treasure for enhancing potential, useful for spirit and flesh alike.”

Potential is intangible, but undeniably crucial. Some people are prodigies, mastering any skill at a glance, blessed with powerful minds and bodies—children as young as seven or eight, already stronger than grown men.

But that does not mean their potential is limitless. If their potential is small, they will eventually plateau, unable to progress further.

Others may not seem remarkable at first, but as they train, they grow ever stronger, progressing faster and faster, overcoming bottlenecks as easily as eating or drinking, with a ceiling frighteningly high.

That is true potential.

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Special thanks to Li Xiaosong (1888) from the Da Wang family, Everlasting Infatuation, and Resign for their generous support and votes!