Sam had not received any skill notification, meaning that the System did not consider him having learned the skill sufficiently to use it reliably. He would have to work on it.
Sam and Sarge made their way back through the shield, Sarge’s body repairing as they did so, Sam had no such luck however. Keeping such a tight grip on his blood vessels was beginning to strain his mind, and he was running towards the far end of the capabilities of his skill. Sure, he could use it for things like this, but it made it far harder to keep up. Sam was quite overpowered, but not especially so.
"I guess I don’t have protagonist syndrome after all,” Sam muttered, slightly out of it from the blood loss.
“Huh? What did you say?” Sarge asked, turning to Sam.
“Nothing. It was nothing.”
They walked through the gate, with Sam receiving a few worried looks from one of the sentries. Sam had noticed that all of the nearby sentries had been watching the fight intently, rather than doing their jobs. Sam supposed that standing guard all day would probably induce boredom in someone. Perhaps he should look into something else for them to do. The city was doing well, but it was not really growing much in power. They needed some sort of training area for the citizens to grow stronger. There was no use in having a populace of weaklings under the control of a few strong people. That was a recipe for disaster, either through internal strife, or because of invasion. Sam would not walk the path of the Multiverse at large. His Dao would not accept that. He would either bring everyone else up with him, or not progress at all. Even though he would likely have far more Daos than his current one in the future, he would always remember the path of Justice as being his first.
Lost in his thoughts, Sam stopped paying attention to his hand, and he was only alerted to this by the feeling of warm blood on his skin as it dripped down. Sam bit his lip in annoyance, and established control once more. Sarge supported him as they walked down the street, and soon Sam saw Lao running towards them. He looked up, and gave the man a half hearted smile. Lao ignored the gesture, and laid his hands on Sam, drawing on his Dao energy to heal him. Blue light rushed out of his hands and into Sam’s body, and the wounds on his hand closed over.
“What did you do to yourself? Stick your hand in a meat grinder?” Lao asked, with a worried expression on his face.
“No, just some training. It turns out, creating projectile attacks is really hard,” Sam replied, now in a better mental state than before.
“He was able to create one powerful enough to harm me on his first attempt. I would say that Sam succeeded beyond all expectations. Unfortunately, his body is not used to manipulating mana in such a way, and it tried to stick to his arm. When he expelled it, it took his flesh with it.”
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“Well next time, have me come with you. I am the only one right now who can heal Sam effectively, because of his power,” Lao said, looking a bit less worried. “I actually was coming to see you because of something else though. That acquaintance of yours, Ron, is causing some trouble. He’s being a real nuisance to his minders.”
“His minders? What the hell happened to him? All I told Claude to do was to monitor him. Did he put him in prison or something?”
“Or something. You’ll see.”
Lao started for the northeastern quadrant of the city, and Sam jogged to keep up. Sarge went back to the Dao tree, citing that he needed to get back to duty. Sam and Lao quickly reached one of the many farms ringing the city, and soon he could hear shouting coming from inside. Of course, it was Ron. Sam walked up to the entrance, and opened the door of the gate, walking inside. Ron was standing in the middle of the field, holding a shovel. He was in the middle of excavating a large furrow in the ground, but it seemed that he was striking. The man was screaming at a woman standing next to him, who looked as if she had been dealing with this for a while.
“You harlot! I will not stand for this treatment! Take me back to Sam right now. I want to have some words with that man.”
"I’m right here, Ron. Why are you causing a nuisance?” Sam asked.
"That’s Mr. Talienti to you, asshole! You forget your place.”
The woman slowly started to edge away as Sam walked towards Ron.
“What place is that exactly, Ron?” Sam said, emphasizing the other man’s first name.
“I’m your boss!” Ron screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth.
"Really. If you’re my boss, then surely you are stronger than me, right? Why don’t you take a swing at me then? It didn't stop you before, back in that diner.”
“See if I don’t!’ Ron spat, running towards Sam. Sam crossed his arms and waited. Ron balled his fist and cocked it back, before slamming it directly into Sam’s nose. He recoiled a moment later, clutching his hand and wailing in pain. It was broken.
“Still my boss? Ron, your tenuous grasp on the lives of your employees dissipated with the arrival of the System. I’m amazed that you survived this long. How on Earth did you manage to make it through the monsters, while so many others did not? Your level is pathetic, and your strength is paltry to say the least”
“It’s only paltry compared to you, Sam. Of course the universe would make you the strongest in the world. It must be some sort of twisted game that they are playing on me. Never let the underdog win, eh?” Ron was starting to go off on one of his signature rants, filled with bitter self pity and hatred for anything in his way. Sam sighed and waited for him to finish spluttering.
“Luckily for you, Ron, I do not hold grudges easily, especially against people like you. Quite frankly, you are beneath my notice. However, there is great opportunity for you here, if you are willing to seize it. You have a chance at a new life. I recommend that you take it,” Sam said calmly, before leaving Ron standing in the middle of the field, completely dumbstruck. As Sam walked out the door, he heard the noise of a shovel striking dirt and he smiled. Ron was already starting to make progress.