I stayed quiet while they worked.
Watching people set up camp was oddly grounding. Hands moved with purpose, stakes driven into soil, canvas unfurled, and firewood stacked with practiced ease. They’d done this many times before. Hovering above every head were names levels. They floated faintly, semi-transparent, locked neatly beside each person like an unwanted HUD element.
It was… unsettling.
Almost instinctively, I ignored them and they seemed to vanish.
I made a mental note to never address anyone by name unless they told me first. Seeing a stranger flinch because I casually used information I shouldn’t have would leave a bad impression to just about everyone.
At first, I thought all eight of them were one tight-knit group.
They weren’t.
As they worked, the divisions became obvious.
Four of them stuck together naturally. They wore leather armor, paired with reinforced boots. Their levels were close too: 17, 19, 21, 22. Fighters. Mercenary types, probably. The way they checked surroundings and rotated tasks screamed experience.
Two others kept to themselves. Their robes were finer than the rest, layered with subtle embroidery and decorated with modest pieces of jewelry that caught the firelight when they moved. One was a mature woman, her posture composed and reserved. The other was a young girl who stayed close at her side, quiet and observant. Their levels hovered at 17 and 15 respectively. Neither carried visible weapons, and neither exuded the strange pressure I felt from the others.
Then there were the last two.
Tao Fang, obviously. And the young woman beside him.
Both wore similar robes. They have clean lines, restrained colors, and were unmistakably sect-issued. Swords remained sheathed at their sides, but their posture alone told me enough.
They were respectively Level 52 and Level 23.
They shared something the others didn’t.
An aura.
It wasn’t visual exactly. More like a pressure against my skin, a subtle weight in the air that bent my attention toward them whether I wanted it or not. Tao Fang’s was calm but vast, like a deep lake. The younger woman’s was sharper, restless, and still forming.
When they finished setting up camp, they gathered around the fire, but not as one group.
The leather-armored four sat together, relaxed but alert.
The mother and daughter sat close, whispering quietly.
Tao Fang and the young woman took the place of honor near the fire’s heart.
“…Huh.”
I casually glanced at my status screen and decided to offhandedly spend the stat point I just gained from leveling up.
31 → 32.
[NAME: YAKUZA MAN]
[LEVEL: 101]
Health: 100%
Energy: 100%
Awesomeness: 40
Swiftness: 32
Toughness: 31 + 1
Life Token: 2 / 3
[INVENTORY]
[SHOP]
If fighting mist monkeys and one spirit tiger earned me a level, then experience gain in this world was either extremely generous or the system was compensating for something.
I closed the interface just as Tao Fang looked over.
“Please,” he said, gesturing beside him. “Sit.”
I complied, lowering myself near the fire. The warmth soaked into my clothes, and for the first time since leaving the mountain, I felt something close to human again. I noticed how my clothes also ‘healed’ from the injuries I gained from those troublesome mist monkeys. I faintly remembered there levels around the 30s to 40s. Eveyrthing happened too fast.
“This is my granddaughter and disciple,” Tao Fang said, resting a hand lightly on the young woman’s shoulder. “Tao Yu.”
She bowed deeply, eyes bright with curiosity rather than fear. “Senior.”
Tao Fang continued, turning toward the leather-armored group. “These four are known as the Four Thunder Hooves. Veterans of the martial world.”
He gestured one by one.
“Ye Zhen of the thunder axe.”
“Du Ping of the cloud spear.”
“Jia Xiang of the lightning sword.”
“Lu Zexi of the stormy fists.”
Each nodded in turn. Their eyes still flicked to me occasionally, but there was respect there now. Maybe even relief. They’ve calmed down, since the commotion that the spirit beast earlier caused. I watched the faint aura around them. It was the same strange presence I’d noticed before. They were weaker than Tao Fang’s and Tao Yu’s, but unmistakably there.
Curiosity gnawed at me.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“…Can I ask something?” I said.
Tao Fang inclined his head. “Of course.”
I gestured vaguely. “That… presence. Around you. And them.” I hesitated, then pushed forward. “What is it?”
Silence fell.
The Four Thunder Hooves exchanged looks.
“I… don’t quite understand,” Ye Zhen said carefully.
Du Ping scratched his head. “Presence?”
Jia Xiang frowned. “Are you talking about killing intent?”
Before anyone else could respond, Tao Fang coughed.
“Ahem.” He smiled thinly. “Senior must be testing you.”
The four stiffened immediately.
“Oh!”
“Of course!”
“How foolish of us!?”
I blinked. Testing them? No. I was genuinely confused.
Tao Fang shot a look at Tao Yu.
She straightened, clearly delighted to speak.
“At a certain realm,” she said eagerly, “one gains the ability to perceive qi. Martial artists instinctively grasp the Body Tempering Realm, strengthening flesh and bone. But when one’s foundation becomes deep enough, one may touch upon spiritual presence.”
She gestured softly, as if shaping air. “That allows a glimpse into the next realm, the Qi Gathering Realm.”
I nodded slowly. I understood exactly none of what she was saying, but I kept my face neutral.
“So… the pressure?” I asked.
She nodded rapidly. “It is a manifestation of cultivation and spirit. Stronger individuals unconsciously exude it.”
I glanced at the mother and daughter across the fire and found nothing. There was neither pressure nor weight. I turned back to Tao Fang, Tao Yu, and the Four Thunder Hooves.
So… spiritual pressure scales with strength? Or with levels?
Curiosity tugged at me again, so I decided to lean into it.
“What about me?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. “What does my spiritual pressure look like to you?”
The Four Thunder Hooves exchanged glances.
Ye Zhen scratched the back of his head. “To be honest, senior, we cannot sense such things.”
Du Ping nodded in agreement. “We can feel the qi within our own bodies and circulate it when using martial techniques, but perceiving another person’s pressure is beyond us.”
“That’s normal at your level,” Tao Yu cut in eagerly. Her eyes were bright, almost shining as she looked at me. “But yours is different.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“Your spiritual pressure is… nonexistent,” she said with certainty. “There is nothing at all.”
The fire crackled.
She drew in a sharp breath, excitement building as she continued. “That means you are either a mortal with no cultivation—” she shook her head immediately, “—or a master of an exceedingly great realm who has perfectly concealed it. Given that you easily killed a spirit beast like that tiger, the answer is obvious.”
Tao Fang laughed, a little too quickly, and waved a hand. “Isn’t she incredible, Senior Yakuza?”
Without missing a beat, he turned to Tao Yu with unmistakable pride. “As you can see, my granddaughter has been spiritually sensitive since her youth. Even though she is only at the early stage of the Body Tempering Realm, she can already sense qi in the atmosphere and perceive the spiritual pressure of others.”
A low rumble suddenly echoed.
I turned to the source of the sound.
The young girl who had remained silent until now had gone completely red, her face heating up as if she had just been singled out under a spotlight. The mature woman beside her rose slightly and bowed apologetically. “Please forgive her excitement. My daughter is easily embarrassed.”
She straightened and smiled politely. “It is also time to eat. So…”
Tension bled out of the group as practical matters took over.
Tao Fang cleared his throat. “Allow me to introduce them properly. This is Zhu Shufen, and her daughter, Xue Hai. They are fellows who hired us to escort them to Xincheng.”
Xincheng, huh? I imagined that was the name of a place. It was strange how I’m able to magically talk in this unfamiliar language, but seemingly unable to understand everything.
Nearby, the Four Thunder Hooves were already working on the tiger. They had butchered it earlier with my permission, methodical and efficient. I had kept the fur and most of the meat for myself, leaving a generous portion to them. That gesture alone had softened their attitudes considerably.
Even so, the cooking would take time.
“The meat is tough,” Lu Zexi said as he turned a thick slab over the fire. “Spirit beasts aren’t like normal animals.”
“But it’s worth it,” Jia Xiang added. “Its spiritual properties should greatly benefit the body.”
Tao Fang reached into his pouch and produced a small bundle of dried herbs and powdered spices. “These should help enhance the flavor,” he said, sprinkling them carefully over the meat. “They may also help draw out the tiger’s spiritual value.”
The aroma began to change, richer and deeper, cutting through the damp forest air.
While they worked, I turned back to Tao Fang. “What can you tell me about Xincheng?”
He considered his words before answering. “It is a frontier city, governed by Lord Meng. Recently, there have been rumors that he has fallen out of favor with the imperial court.”
“Rumors,” I echoed.
He nodded. “As with all such things.”
“Then why head there?” I asked.
Tao Fang’s gaze drifted to Tao Yu. His expression softened. “There are whispers that cultivators from greater domains have arrived and are recruiting disciples for their factions.”
Tao Yu’s hands tightened in her lap.
“It would pain me to part with my granddaughter,” Tao Fang continued quietly, “but I cannot bring myself to deny her this opportunity. A better place may allow her to walk farther on the path of cultivation than I ever could.”
The Four Thunder Hooves nodded eagerly.
“We want to test our luck as well,” Ye Zhen said. “If there’s even a chance…”
Tao Fang smiled at their enthusiasm, then his expression turned serious. “Ambition is not a sin,” he said. “But be careful. Angering a cultivator from a greater domain is something you would never want for yourself.”
The fire popped softly as the tiger meat continued to cook.
I wasn’t ignorant enough to miss the implication in Tao Fang’s words.
Cultivators from greater domains meant higher realms, deeper foundations, and politics I had no interest in touching. If I was smart, and I liked to think I was, I would avoid those people as much as possible. Getting entangled in their disputes, their tests, or their whims sounded like an excellent way to die for reasons that had nothing to do with me.
The tiger meat was finally ready.
Thick cuts were passed around, steam rising as fat dripped onto the fire with soft hisses. I accepted a portion and ate slowly. The meat was dense and slightly greasy, but undeniably good, carrying a richness that lingered on the tongue. Warmth spread through my stomach, and with it came an unwelcome memory of the cave, of gnawing hunger and insects crushed between my teeth.
This was infinitely better.
As we ate, Tao Fang continued to speak, clearly warming to the subject.
“This recruitment is no small matter,” he said. “In greater domains, the qi in the atmosphere is far richer. Resources that are rare and fiercely contested here would be considered commonplace there. Pills, manuals, spirit herbs, and things that could change the fate of a cultivator would also be much easily accessible.”
He spoke with the calm certainty of someone who had thought about this many times.
I listened, nodding where appropriate, but my eyes drifted toward Tao Yu.
Her expression was troubled.
While her grandfather spoke with pride and hope, she stared into the fire, fingers clenched tightly in her lap. The flames reflected in her eyes, but her gaze seemed distant and conflicted. Whether it was fear of leaving, pressure from expectations, or something else entirely, I couldn’t tell.
I decided not to pry.
Instead, I shifted the conversation. “What’s the plan for the broken wheel?”
Tao Fang sighed. “We will either need to wait or send someone ahead to find help. The wagon carries many items we cannot simply abandon.”
Zhu Shufen bowed slightly, her expression apologetic. “This delay is an inconvenience caused by us. I apologize.”
Before Tao Fang could respond, Ye Zhen spoke up, waving a hand. “There’s no need for that. You hired us, and we accepted your payment. We’ll naturally do our best to see things through.”
The others nodded in agreement.
Tao Fang added, “If a merchant or caravan happens to pass by and is willing to help repair the wagon, that would change matters. Until then, we must be patient.”
The fire crackled softly as the night deepened around us. Full stomachs and steady conversation dulled the edge of tension, but uncertainty lingered all the same. The road to Xincheng remained stalled, and for now, all we could do was wait.
