We were lucky.
A caravan passed by the following morning, its wagons heavy with goods and guarded by hired escorts. Among them was a man who knew his way around wheels and axles. He examined the damage, muttered to himself, and then, without much prompting, set to work.
Not only did he fix the broken wheel, but he even offered spare parts from the caravan’s own stock.
It was obvious why.
The merchants went out of their way to be courteous to Tao Fang, deferential to Tao Yu, and openly friendly with the Four Thunder Hooves. Smiles came easily. Words were chosen carefully. Gifts were offered with practiced subtlety.
As for me? They avoided my gaze entirely.
Even with my passive suppressed, whatever impression I gave off had already taken root. The merchants made wide arcs around me, spoke in lowered voices when I was nearby, and never once tried to strike up a conversation. I found it vaguely amusing.
Once the wheel was repaired, the journey resumed without incident.
The road toward Xincheng was calmer than I had expected. The Four Thunder Hooves seemed eager to demonstrate their martial prowess, taking turns dealing with bandits who were unfortunate enough to cross our path. They moved with confidence and discipline, clearly proud of their skills.
Tao Yu was no different.
She threw herself into every skirmish with determination, her movements sharp and precise, as if she were trying to prove something. Tao Fang never interfered, only watched with a measured gaze, stepping in only when necessary.
No bandit group managed to slow us down.
On the rare occasions when something truly dangerous appeared, the others relaxed visibly once they remembered I was there. And if numbers ever became an issue, the merchant caravan had its own escort warriors to bolster our strength. Combined with Tao Fang’s presence, it made the road feel almost safe.
When he did move, I couldn’t help but watch.
His techniques were fluid and precise, his sword tracing arcs of light that cut cleanly through enemies. It was efficient, elegant, and undeniably flashy in a way that bordered on the magical. Even I found myself impressed.
Throughout the journey, I shared a wagon with Zhu Shufen and her daughter, Xue Hai.
The young girl was endlessly curious.
“How many people have you killed?” she asked one afternoon, eyes wide.
“What is your martial art called?”
“What realm have you cultivated to?”
Zhu Shufen nearly clapped a hand over her mouth. “Hai’er,” she scolded softly, then turned to me with a bow. “Please forgive her rudeness.”
I waved it off. “It’s fine. Curiosity is normal for a child.”
The wagon creaked softly as it rolled along the dirt road, sunlight filtering through the canvas overhead. Xue Hai sat cross-legged across from me, her eyes fixed on my face with unabashed curiosity.
“Do you have any titles?” she asked suddenly. “Like the ones heroes are known for.”
I paused. Titles, huh?
Yakuza Man had many of them. Names whispered in alleys, shouted in rage, and carved into rumors and fear. Most of them were soaked in blood, violence, and infamy.
Two surfaced immediately.
I chose my words carefully.
“In my hometown,” I said, keeping my tone casual, “people used to call me Kyō no Otoko.”
Xue Hai’s eyes lit up. “What does that mean?”
“Man of Chivalry,” I explained. “Someone who acts with honor, bravery, courtesy, and compassion.”
She leaned forward, clearly impressed.
“And another?” she asked eagerly.
I opened my mouth. The second title was already there, heavy on my tongue.
“Shura no Otoko,” I began. “Man of Carn—”
I stopped.
The word hung unfinished between us.
Zhu Shufen had already gone tense. Her fingers tightened slightly around her sleeves, concern plain on her face. I noticed it and offered her a reassuring smile.
It did not help.
She flinched instead.
I raised a hand to cover my mouth, suddenly aware of how I must look to her. White blazer, dark glasses, and little scars I did not bother hiding. Whatever comfort I thought I was offering clearly did not translate.
“It’s nothing a child needs to hear,” I said lightly, waving it off.
But Xue Hai was already smiling brightly. “Your titles are so cool,” she said, her voice full of awe. “I wish I could have titles like that one day. I want to become a martial artist too.”
Zhu Shufen frowned. “Please ignore her nonsense,” she said quickly. “Children speak without thinking.”
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I leaned back against the wagon wall, staring at the passing trees. I did not want to judge this world too early. I barely understood it myself. But I knew stories. I knew tropes. I had already seen enough to understand the truth beneath the romance.
This was a dangerous world.
People could die simply because they were unlucky. A wrong road. A wrong day. A monstrous tiger stepping out of the mist. A martial artist’s life was not glory. It was hardship layered upon hardship, and danger piled upon danger.
I exhaled slowly and looked back at Xue Hai.
“Do you know why they called me the Man of Carnage?” I asked quietly. “Shura no Otoko, I mean?”
Xue Hai shook her head, uncertain now.
“It was because I took many lives,” I continued, my voice low and even. “My hands were stained with blood. Not for fame. Not for wealth. But for revenge and many other things.”
Zhu Shufen’s face drained of color.
“I woke up once without my memories,” I said, recalling the fragments of Yakuza Man’s lore with unsettling clarity. “Trapped in a place meant to break me. When I escaped, I learned the truth about my past. And I chose to destroy those who had taken everything from me.”
The road stretched on ahead, silent and indifferent.
“A life of fighting brings pain,” I said solemnly. “And often, death. Sometimes your own. Sometimes the people around you.”
Xue Hai had gone pale. Her hands clenched in her lap.
Zhu Shufen drew her closer without a word.
After that, Xue Hai spoke to me far less.
She still stole glances now and then, curiosity warring with lingering fear, but the easy chatter was gone. I did not push her. When evening fell and the caravan slowed to make camp, I took it as a quiet mercy.
The routine repeated itself with practiced ease. Fires were lit. Tents were raised. Horses were watered and fed. I made myself useful where I could, socializing just enough to avoid appearing aloof. I spoke with the Four Thunder Hooves, listening to their boasts and trading a few light remarks. I exchanged pleasantries with the merchants, though they still treated me like a walking calamity they would rather not stand too close to. I even spoke with Tao Fang at length, discussing trivial matters and listening more than I talked.
When night deepened and it was time to sleep, Tao Fang once again offered me space in his tent.
“You are welcome to join us,” he said calmly. “It is only right.”
I accepted.
Inside the tent, Tao Yu was visibly eager. The moment we settled, her eyes sparkled with barely contained curiosity.
“Senior,” she began, leaning forward, “your movements against the tiger, were they a martial technique? Or perhaps a secret art? I could not recognize the style at all.”
I scratched my cheek and shrugged. “Hard to say.”
That earned me a blink.
“I just swing,” I added. “If it works, it works.”
She stared at me as if I had just recited profound wisdom.
I waved it off quickly. “Don’t read too much into it.”
Truthfully, I was interested. Qi. Cultivation. Mystical techniques that defied logic. Anyone would be. But I had no foundation, no understanding, and no desire to parade my ignorance any more than I already had. Making a joke of myself was fine. Becoming indebted was not.
If I leaned on them too much and accepted too much guidance or kindness, it would eventually come with expectations. And expectations, in a world like this, were dangerous.
As far as I was concerned, this journey was payment for saving their lives from the tiger. Nothing more.
It was a cold way of thinking, but this was not my world. I needed to survive first.
The night passed quietly.
Morning came with pale light filtering through the trees, and we broke camp early. By the time the sun climbed toward its peak, we emerged from the Verdant Forest. Stone walls rose ahead, weathered but sturdy, banners fluttering in the breeze.
Xincheng.
As we approached the gates, a familiar translucent prompt appeared in my vision.
[QUEST COMPLETE: FIND CIVILIZATION]
[REWARD: WORLD MAP]
A faint thrill ran through me despite myself.
“…You really are a game,” I muttered under my breath.
The map unfolded briefly in my mind, an outline of regions, borders, and cities I did not recognize. It was helpful, yes, but it did nothing to answer the more important question.
What now?
I waited. Surely there would be another quest. Another directive. Something to tell me where to go, what to do, or how to get home.
Nothing came.
I sighed.
At the gates, Tao Fang finished exchanging formalities with the leader of the merchant caravan. The Four Thunder Hooves took charge of the horses, each guiding their own through the crowd. Our group remained together as we entered the city, swallowed by the noise of vendors, travelers, and clattering wheels.
Zhu Shufen turned to Tao Fang and bowed slightly. “Please allow us a moment to reach the inn,” she said apologetically. “The remainder of the payment will be settled there.”
She then looked at me. “You as well,” she added. “You will be rewarded generously.”
I nodded. “That’s fine.”
Money was money, after all.
Xincheng was livelier than I expected.
The streets bustled with foot traffic, vendors shouting prices from wooden stalls, the air thick with the smell of cooked meat, incense, and horse sweat. People moved with purpose. There were hardly any street urchins or beggars in sight, which told me two things: the city was either well-managed or very good at hiding its problems.
We stopped before an inn that Zhu Shufen clearly knew well. The way she guided us there made it obvious this was not her first time in Xincheng.
I didn’t pry. Whatever business she had here, it was none of mine. From the moment I had decided not to tug at obvious plot threads, I had committed to that path. Rich woman. Special background. Secret contacts. She reeked of “important NPC.” I had zero intention of getting dragged into whatever storyline she belonged to.
Zhu Shufen helped Xue Hai down from the wagon. The girl hesitated, then bowed awkwardly.
“Thank you,” she said softly, eyes flicking toward me before moving to Tao Fang, Tao Yu, and each of the Four Thunder Hooves.
The inn’s doors bore a wooden sign that read ‘Closed’. Despite that, I felt someone inside immediately.
Before I could dwell on it, the doors opened.
A middle-aged man stepped out and came to stand quietly beside Zhu Shufen. He did not announce himself, nor did he look particularly imposing. His presence was subtle and restrained.
Above his head hovered a familiar line of text.
[Level 48]
Nearly as strong as Tao Fang.
No one else reacted.
Tao Fang did not stiffen. Tao Yu did not glance twice. The Four Thunder Hooves remained relaxed. The merchants nearby paid the man no attention at all, as if he had always been there.
Zhu Shufen spoke first. “These are the brave warriors who escorted us safely here.”
The man’s eyes swept over the group. When they landed on me, they lingered for a fraction of a second longer than the rest.
“Was there anything unusual along the way?” he asked.
Zhu Shufen smiled faintly. “If there is anything you need to know, you will learn it later. For now, please settle our debts.”
She leaned in and whispered something into his ear. I strained to listen and heard nothing. Figures. My stats didn’t turn me into some all-seeing monster just because I was Level 100.
The man nodded once.
He produced several heavy pouches and handed them out, one per person. The weight was satisfying. Coins clinked softly inside. The Four Thunder Hooves immediately brightened, peeking inside theirs and grinning.
My system, unhelpfully eager as always, supplied information the moment I received mine.
[+100 Spirit Coins]
I blinked.
The others received mortal currency, gold and silver, judging by their reactions. Tao Fang’s expression shifted slightly as well; his pouch clearly held something different, likely a small number of Spirit Coins.
The Thunder Hooves laughed and slapped each other on the shoulders.
“We’ll be eating good tonight!”
I slipped my pouch into my [Inventory] without thinking, watching my balance tick upward.
The reaction was immediate.
Eyes turned toward me.
The middle-aged man’s gaze sharpened, surprise flashing through his eyes before he masked it behind a polite, neutral expression.
‘Idiot,’ I scolded myself internally. ‘Too obvious.’
This was already the second time I had used the Inventory in front of others. There would not be a third.
The man cleared his throat. “There is an inn a few blocks from here,” he said calmly. “You should rest there.” His gaze hardened slightly. “Forget that you have ever seen my face. The same goes for the ladies beside me.”
We nodded.
There was no reason not to.
