I Formed the Strongest Swordsman Group-Chapter 3: Have You Ever Seen a Protagonist Who Was Almost Killed Right After Transmigrating?

How should I put it... Aoto now felt that this system was incredibly user-friendly!
It even clearly marked the usage rules, making everything easy to understand at a glance.
—Is this... the legendary system cheat?—
Aoto slapped his own face hard, wanting to see if he was dreaming, and the stinging sensation on his cheek, along with the persistent virtual screen before his eyes, told him—he was not dreaming.
He genuinely had a cheat.
A smile gradually appeared on Aoto’s face, following the slight upward curve of his lips.
The unease that had been lingering in his heart from transmigrating into an unfamiliar environment and era had somewhat dissipated.
—So you have to fight an opponent for more than 10 seconds to copy their talent... In that case... the fight just now with that Righteous Crowd’s second-in-command did last over 10 seconds...—
—Spontaneously awakening a talent...—
Aoto was most interested in the last usage rule: upon meeting certain conditions, such as a change in mentality, a new talent could spontaneously awaken.
—Achieving certain conditions will awaken new talents... That explanation is way too vague...—
After some thought, he found himself stuck pondering it with no conclusion, so he gave up and focused on the talents he currently possessed:
[Currently Owned Talents:
Night Vision]
The word “Night Vision” on the system interface glowed with a golden light.
This must be the effect mentioned in the fourth point of the usage rules: when a talent is activated, its entry on the system interface will glow.
Aoto was currently in a dim environment, so the “Night Vision” talent had activated on its own.
At present, this was the only talent Aoto had—one he had just gained after defeating that Righteous Crowd’s second-in-command with a single slash.
Looking at this one freshly copied talent, Aoto’s mood was somewhat complicated.
His only talent right now was copied from someone else—which meant that his current body originally had no special talents, just a purely ordinary person.
After some self-comfort, Aoto felt relieved: the system’s usage introduction also said that not everyone has special talents, most people are ordinary with nothing special about them.
This current body of his was just an ordinary, unremarkable shell.
Aoto began seriously examining the talent he had just copied.
He had to admit—the “Night Vision” talent was very practical.
In this era, of course, street lamps didn’t exist; unless you went to a place like Yoshiwara—the “city that never sleeps”—it was basically impossible to walk at night without a lantern.
At this moment, Aoto was on a secluded path; the surrounding houses and shops were all tightly closed, and the only light source was the lantern in his hand.
Although the light was dim, Aoto could still see everything clearly, as if it were daytime.
This had to be the effect granted by the talent—the ability to see clearly even in pitch-black darkness.
Phew!
Just then, a cold wind blew.
The sudden chill slipped through gaps in Aoto’s clothes, making him shiver involuntarily.
“So cold...” Aoto tightened the collar of his haori.
[Note: Haori—an outer coat worn over a kimono]
According to the memories of “Original Tachibana Aoto,” it was January 12, deep winter.
Feeling the increasing cold around him, Aoto cupped his hands and blew warm breath on them, then lifted the lantern and stood up: “Better hurry home...”
With the “Night Vision” talent, Aoto actually didn’t need the lantern’s light at all.
Just as he was wondering whether to snuff out the flame in the lantern—
Scrrrt, scrrrt, scrrrt, scrrrt, scrrrt!
The sound of straw sandals scraping the ground suddenly came from Aoto’s right side!
Aoto instinctively turned to look.
Three warriors wearing straw hats were quickly running toward him!
As Aoto’s gaze landed on the three men, they all simultaneously reached for the swords at their waists.
Three sharp clinks of blades being drawn sounded in quick succession; the three men drew their swords, radiating fierce hostility!
Seeing the three warriors charging at him with swords raised, Aoto’s expression changed drastically.
They were incredibly fast; in the blink of an eye, the one in front—a chubby man—had already reached Aoto’s side.
“Tachibana Aoto! You traitorous enemy who worships the barbarians and appeases the heretics!” the chubby man shouted while swinging his sword toward Aoto’s face. “Prepare to die! Divine Punishment!”
The chubby man’s sword was already coming down; Aoto didn’t have time to draw his own blade.
Most people in this situation would probably be so scared they forgot to move.
But Aoto—he was not an ordinary person.
In his previous life, he was a top graduate of the police academy, ranking first in his entire class!
The “awareness” cultivated through years of police training was awakening at this moment!
A sharp light flashed in Aoto’s eyes.
Although he hadn’t drawn his sword, he still had his most basic weapon.
Aoto dropped the lantern with a flick of his hand, raised both arms, grabbed the chubby man’s sword-wielding right hand with his left, and gripped the man’s left shoulder with his right—using his signature move from his previous life: a joint lock!
Aoto had graduated top of his class, naturally excelling in all courses.
Especially in police physical training classes, which taught baton techniques and such—Aoto’s grades were unmatched.
Not only that, his biggest extracurricular passion was fitness and sports. In the police academy, he was famously known as the “muscle demon,” with biceps larger than a baby’s head when flexed.
Besides fitness and sports, Aoto had a strong interest in hand-to-hand combat. He studied various styles, excelling most at joint locks and freestyle fighting.
Aoto planned to disarm the chubby man’s sword with his joint lock and then take him down directly, but to his surprise—he couldn’t budge the chubby man at all.
—The strength of this body... is way too weak!—
Though his previous combat techniques were perfectly reproduced, the physical strength was not.
This new body was fairly tall, about 1.75 meters, but severely lacking in muscle mass, too skinny, weighing around 120 jin (about 60 kg). In a power contest, he was no match for the chubby man!
Unable to take down the chubby man or disarm his sword, Aoto was stuck grappling with him awkwardly.
At this moment, the chubby man’s other two companions arrived.
Aoto’s two hands were busy wrestling the chubby man; he had no third or fourth hand to deal with the other two enemies.
So Aoto made a swift decision, pushing the large chubby man away with all his might, then taking several steps back in one breath.
Even though Aoto retreated as fast as possible, his left thigh was grazed by a sword strike, cutting the fabric and leaving a thin wound on his skin.
He had no time to care about the wound. After putting distance between himself and the three unwanted guests, Aoto drew his sword smoothly.
If others were unarmed, you drew your police weapon; if they had weapons, you drew your gun. In short, wherever you were, whenever you could, use a stronger weapon than the thug’s. Never foolishly fight hand-to-hand. When facing criminals, there was no need to care about martial virtue—this was a heartfelt lesson a senior had told Aoto back in the police academy.
After hearing that sincere advice, Aoto had asked, “Senior, what if the criminal has a gun?”
“We once sent an armored vehicle to shoot it out with a gun-wielding criminal,” the senior had replied seriously.
—If only I had a gun and an armored vehicle now...!—
Clenching his shining sword tightly, Aoto recalled the senior’s earnest teachings with regret.
His joint lock technique that had subdued the chubby man, combined with the bright sword in his hand, kept the three unwanted guests at bay.
The three men held their swords and circled Aoto in a “four-person turn,” no one daring to step forward.
They didn’t advance; naturally, Aoto wouldn’t recklessly charge forward.
If he had the physique from his past life, there might be hope to contend with these three.
From the brief fight with the chubby man, Aoto saw clearly: with this frail body, a direct brawl with these three was like wielding a huge saber in a tiny pocket—completely foolish.
Only now did Aoto have the leisure to study the three men’s appearances—though it was a wasted effort.
All three wore wide-brimmed straw hats pulled low, hiding their upper faces; only the lower half of their faces were visible.
—Who are these people? Why did they suddenly draw swords to attack me? Are they enemies of this body’s original owner?
—What should I do now? One against three—Even if I win, I’m bound to be seriously injured...—
Aoto pondered desperately how to escape this predicament. A few drops of cold sweat seeped from his forehead, trickling down his nose and cheeks.
While Aoto was thinking about how to break free from this trap, sounds that were like heavenly music to his ears at this moment suddenly rang out:
“Hey! What’s going on? Why so noisy?”
“Ahhh—! Warriors are fighting! They all drew swords!”
“Warriors fighting?”
“Warriors fighting! Go take a look!”
...
The noise from Aoto’s fight with the three intruders woke up the surrounding residents.
Many bold people came out to see what was happening.
Seeing this, the three warriors exchanged glances; the chubby man sheathed his sword and said, “Retreat!”
Then he was the first to hurriedly leave while holding his sword.
As he left, the chubby man didn’t forget to shout back at Aoto:
“Tachibana Aoto! You traitorous enemy who worships the barbarians and appeases the heretics! Just you wait! One day we will surely cut you down!”
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