I woke up to silk sheets and quiet.

  For a few seconds, I didn’t move. I lay there, staring at the carved wooden ceiling of my room at the Red Ember Inn, letting the unfamiliar luxury sink in. No thunder. No rain. No monkeys screaming in the mist. Just stillness, soft and expensive.

  “…Huh,” I murmured. “Fun.”

  I rolled onto my side and sat up, running a hand through my hair. Morning light filtered in through the paper window, painting the room in warm gold. My body felt rested in a way it hadn’t since before the mountain, before the cave, before dying once and coming back angrier.

  I glanced down. Boxers. Right.

  I reached into my [Inventory], pulled out my clothes, and dressed without ceremony. White blazer. Red shirt. Trousers. Sunglasses. I settled them on my face out of habit, then paused.

  Yeah. Still felt right.

  I took out my bat next and gave it a few practice swings. Slow at first, then faster. The air cut cleanly with each motion. My shoulders loosened, my stance grounded itself, and for a brief moment, the world made sense again.

  When I finished, I exhaled and returned the bat to my [Inventory].

  “Alright,” I said to no one. “Let’s start the day.”

  Outside my room, the inn was already lively. Servants moved with quiet efficiency, guests murmured over breakfast, and somewhere downstairs, someone was arguing about tea. I caught the attention of an attendant and asked where I could take a bath.

  His eyes lit up immediately.

  “Please wait just a moment, honored guest,” he said, bowing slightly. “We will prepare it at once.”

  He guided me down a side corridor to a counter where a woman sat with a ledger. She looked up, smiled politely, and spoke in a practiced tone.

  “Would you prefer the silver experience or the gold experience?”

  I blinked. “What’s the difference?”

  “The silver experience includes a standard bath and fresh towels,” she replied smoothly. “The gold experience includes premium heated water, scented oils, private facilities, and full service.”

  I considered it for half a second.

  “As long as it’s not Spirit Coins,” I said, “I’ll take the gold.”

  Her smile widened. She named the price.

  I winced internally.

  That was… a week’s worth of lunches. Easily.

  Still, I nodded and paid in gold pieces. The woman handed me a wooden tag with a carved number and gestured toward the waiting area.

  As I sat down, I couldn’t help but observe the other patrons. Most of them were dressed well, their posture relaxed in a way that suggested wealth or cultivation, or both. A bath, apparently, was not a daily convenience in this world.

  That made sense. Given the technology level, clean water, heated properly and in privacy, was a luxury.

  I briefly considered the option of buying one of those gimmicky cleansing items from the [Shop]. Instant sparkle, instant clean. Very YKU.

  I dismissed the thought just as quickly.

  Spirit Coins were not for bathing.

  When my number was finally called, an attendant led me into a private room.

  I stopped short.

  The tub waiting for me was porcelain.

  Actual porcelain, smooth and glossy, with delicate floral patterns painted along the rim. Scented candles flickered nearby, filling the air with a subtle fragrance that reminded me faintly of citrus and herbs.

  “…Wow,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Before I could process it further, the door slid open behind me and three women entered. They wore elegant red banner gowns, fitted and formal, their movements synchronized and composed. They bowed in unison.

  I raised both hands immediately. “Hold on. I’m taking a bath here. You don’t need to be here.”

  The three exchanged confused glances.

  One of them stepped forward cautiously. “Young master, we are here to attend to you. This is part of the gold experience.”

  My brain stalled.

  “…Attend how?”

  She blinked, then smiled, clearly misunderstanding my concern. “We will wash you.”

  Oh.

  “Oh.”

  I swallowed.

  “Listen,” I said carefully. “I can do it myself.”

  They hesitated. One glanced at the others, then back at me. “Please don’t refuse,” she said softly. “If you do, we may lose our positions and be blamed of poor service.”

  I sighed.

  This was how it always went. Resist too hard, and someone else paid the price. Besides, they looked delicate, but I could tell by posture and balance that they weren’t weak. And once they started, resistance became… impractical.

  Efficient hands undid buttons. Sleeves slipped free. I tried not to tense as they guided me forward.

  “Easy,” I muttered. “Easy.”

  They kept my boxers on, thankfully. Of course, it was on my insistence. There had been an awkward moment involving something called a dudou that I shut down immediately.

  The water was perfect. Warm, soothing, and fragrant without being overpowering. Brushes and cloths moved with practiced rhythm, careful and thorough, never crossing a line, but toeing it close enough to make me acutely aware of my own thoughts.

  I stared resolutely at the far wall.

  ‘Think of the cave,’ I told myself. ‘Think of rain. Think of moss.’

  At some point, one of them knelt and began scrubbing my foot with a soft brush. She paused, then laughed lightly.

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  “You are quite gifted down there, young master.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  ‘Inner demons,’ I thought grimly. ‘Stay where you are.’

  “Please,” I said, voice flat. “Just… do the bath.”

  She smiled, unrepentant, and continued scrubbing. I closed my eyes and counted my breaths, reminding myself that I had survived worse than this. But only barely.

  Honestly, I could have resisted more fiercely.

  That thought came to me as I stepped out of the bathing quarters, steam still clinging faintly to my skin. Three professional women in red qipao had stripped and washed me with such calm efficiency, without leering or malice, that it left me with no clear point to object without becoming the unreasonable one. Awkward did not even begin to describe it, but I supposed this was simply how things were done here.

  Different world. Different rules.

  I returned to my room refreshed in body and deeply conflicted in spirit. My boxers were soaked beyond saving. I stared at the system notification in disbelief.

  [Wet Boxers]

  “Yeah, this doesn’t feel right…”

  With a heavy sigh, I spent one Spirit Coin in the [Shop]. The price hurt more emotionally than financially. I equipped the new pair immediately, then stared at the inventory slot for a long moment, as if judging it would somehow undo reality.

  It did not.

  “Maybe, I should just throw it? Nah… It might be useful…”

  I left the Red Ember Inn soon after, sunglasses firmly in place, and headed for Pine Wind Book Hall.

  As expected, Meng Rong was nowhere to be found.

  The woman at the librarian’s table today was different, quieter, and significantly less interested in my personal life. I offered her a polite nod and went straight to the shelves where I had left off the day before. I decided not to overexert myself this time. Geography was safe. Geography did not flirt back.

  As I read, my [World Map] updated in real time, faint lines spreading outward like ink soaking into parchment. Rivers gained names. Borders sharpened. Mountain ranges revealed their true scale.

  It was… satisfying.

  By the time my stomach reminded me it was nearly noon, I closed the book and returned it properly. I left Pine Wind Book Hall without incident and made my way back toward the Red Ember Inn.

  I was hoping to find the Four Thunder Hooves.

  I had not seen them the night before, and today seemed like the safest bet. They were practical people. If they were anywhere, they would be near their lodging or their horses.

  I almost walked past the inn.

  Almost.

  Raised voices stopped me cold.

  “I really don’t want to do this,” I muttered. “But hey, just a little bit of curiosity won’t kill you.”

  Just outside the Red Ember Inn, a crowd had gathered. At the center of it stood a familiar figure, white hair disheveled, posture unsteady.

  [Jia Bao] [Level 34]

  He was limping badly. One arm hung loose at his side, twisted at an unnatural angle, and the sword in his hand was snapped cleanly in half, the broken blade discarded on the ground.

  This was not the proud Silver Sword I had seen before.

  Standing opposite him was someone I recognized instantly.

  [Huang Long] [Level 121]

  The same cultivator who had tried to strong-arm me into joining the Dragon Heart Sect the day before.

  Huang Long stood with his hands behind his back, expression bored, as if this entire scene were an inconvenience rather than a spectacle. His spiritual pressure rolled outward in oppressive waves, subtle but unmistakable. The crowd kept its distance instinctively.

  Jia Bao clenched his teeth, trying to straighten despite his injuries.

  “You—” he began, voice shaking. “You had no right—”

  Huang Long lifted a single finger.

  Jia Bao froze, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as if struck by an invisible blow. He dropped to one knee with a muffled grunt.

  “Know your place,” Huang Long said coldly. “A frog at the bottom of a well dares to bare its fangs at the heavens.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose beneath my sunglasses.

  So what exactly was the problem?

  I looked past Huang Long and focused on the white-haired man crumpled on the ground.

  [Jia Bao] [Health: 2%]

  He was barely conscious.

  Huang Long raised his voice in a contemptuous tone. “A fool without eyes dares to insult me to my face. You should be grateful I did not end your life outright.”

  Jia Bao coughed weakly, blood staining his lips. He tried to speak and failed.

  I leaned slightly toward the man standing beside me and lowered my voice. “What happened?”

  The man shook his head with a sigh. “Rotten luck. He accidentally bumped into that senior. Exchanged words. They got heated. The rest happened in the blink of an eye.”

  Around us, murmurs spread like ripples.

  “Serves him right for being so arrogant.”

  “That senior’s martial arts are unfathomable.”

  “He should have known better.”

  I winced.

  One was Level 34. The other was Level 121. It had never been fair to begin with. Of course, the others could not see that. To them, this was just hierarchy made manifest. I had always hated injustice. That did not mean I always acted against it.

  More often than not, I watched. I told myself there was nothing I could do. I told myself that intervening would only make things worse. Natural disasters were not fought; they were endured. Power, in this world, was much the same.

  Was that heartless?

  If it was, then why was I still standing here, watching?

  Not for pleasure. Never that.

  I was not heartless enough to enjoy watching someone crushed beneath another’s heel. But I was selfish enough to think of my own survival first. That way of thinking had been common where I came from. People learned to look away because looking too long invited consequences.

  Maybe I would regret this memory one day.

  I would not forget it.

  A sudden movement broke the crowd’s uneasy stillness.

  An old man stepped forward, sword drawn.

  “You vile man,” he said, voice steady despite the pressure bearing down on him, “what you are doing is evil!”

  I stared.

  Of all people.

  [Tao Fang][Level 52]

  My first thought was disbelief. My second was irritation. Was he really asking for trouble? Tao Fang stood straight-backed, his sword held firmly despite the tremor in his hands. His spiritual presence flared, thin but resolute, like a candle refusing to go out in a storm.

  Huang Long turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Another ant crawls forward.”

  Tao Fang did not retreat. “You disgrace the name of cultivators by abusing your strength against the weak.”

  I exhaled quietly through my nose. Tao Fang was not a close friend. We had traveled together briefly. We had spoken. We had shared a fire and a meal. I had saved his life once, and his granddaughter’s along with it. That counted for something.

  Would it not be a waste to see him die here, when I had already pulled him back from death once before?

  My jaw tightened.

  Unlike Jia Bao, who was nothing more than an unfortunate stranger, Tao Fang was not.

  Because I was not heartless, I could not bring myself to watch him be broken.

  The selfish part of me that wanted to stay uninvolved clawed at my chest, screaming for restraint, for reason, and for survival. But it had to give way, even if only for this moment. Some lines, once crossed, demanded a response.

  I exhaled slowly and let my steps carry me forward.

  As I moved, I began charging my basic attack, keeping my presence low and my qi tightly contained. I circled wide, slipping toward Huang Long’s blind spot while all eyes remained fixed on Tao Fang.

  Tao Fang lifted his sword slightly and spoke with dignity that belied the danger he faced. “May I ask who you are, sir, to dare bully the injured and—”

  He never finished.

  Huang Long threw his head back and laughed. “You dare question me?” His voice rang with arrogance. “I am Huang Long of the Crimson Fire Domain, a distinguished disciple of the Dragon Heart Sect—”

  “Oraaa—!”

  I rushed him.

  Huang Long barely had time to turn. Surprise flashed across his face as my fist crashed into his nose with a dull, wet crack. Blood burst outward, splattering across the stone.

  A charged basic attack carried a stun effect.

  It triggered perfectly.

  Huang Long staggered, frozen in place for a fraction of a second that might as well have been an eternity.

  I did not waste it.

  Ten Spirit Coins vanished from my reserve as I purchased an Expired Supplement Pill from the [Shop]. A debuff item. It was crude and inelegant, but very effective. I slammed the pill straight into his mouth and drove him into the ground with my weight. Stone cracked beneath his back as I pinned him down with one hand pressed hard against his clavicle.

  His eyes widened in panic.

  From my [Inventory], I pulled out the damp, cursed reminder of this morning’s bath.

  Wet boxers.

  I shoved them into his mouth without ceremony.

  The weakness debuff took hold immediately as he was forced to swallow.

  [Huang Long][Level 109]

  “Good.”

  Since I was [Level 101], this should be manageable. I felt the stun beginning to fade. I did not give him the chance to recover.

  “Underworld Baptism,” I roared. “Blame your luck for crossing eyes with me, dickhead!”

  My grip tightened around his clavicle as my other fist came down in a relentless storm. The technique was simple and brutally effective: restrain with one hand, unleash everything with the other.

  I activated my Intimidation passive at full force.

  Fear flooded the space between us.

  The longer I held his clavicle, the longer the technique chained, and I held on with everything I had.

  “ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA!”

  Each punch landed with bone-crunching force. Blood sprayed into the air, staining my sleeves, my knuckles, and my sunglasses. Huang Long’s body jerked beneath me, his struggles growing weaker by the second.

  No one spoke.

  No one moved.

  The square fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the sound of fists meeting flesh.

  When the technique ended, I did not stop.

  “Underworld Baptism.”

  Again.

  “ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA!”

  Only when his body went slack and his status flickered did I finally pull back.

  [Health: 2%]

  Huang Long was barely alive.

  I stood, breathing heavily, blood dripping from my hands and soaking into my clothes. I tilted my sunglasses forward, shadowing my eyes as I looked at the frozen crowd.

  “There’s nothing to see here,” I said calmly. “Now, do me a favor and mind your own damn business~! Or what!? Does anyone here also want a beating?”