This was really bad.
I could not move.
The needles pinned precise meridian points, locking my muscles and suppressing the flow of energy. My body felt like it belonged to someone else, frozen mid-pose like a badly paused game.
Fine.
If the system wanted numbers, I would give it numbers.
With a thought, I pulled up my status screen and dumped in the stat points I had just earned from my absurd EXP feast.
[NAME: YAKUZA MAN]
[LEVEL: 250]
Health: 100%
Energy: 100%
Awesomeness: 94
Swiftness: 62 + 20
Toughness: 62
Life Token: 2 / 3
If you were hindered by paralysis, the obvious answer was to increase Swiftness to raise resistance against debuffs that targeted movement.
Without hesitation, I shoved the new points straight into Swiftness.
Heat surged through my veins.
My muscles twitched.
Then I flexed.
The needles burst out of my body with sharp metallic pings, flung away by raw force as my enhanced nervous system overpowered the suppression. Blood dotted the air, but my Health remained full.
I kicked off the ground and vaulted over the gazebo just as a crescent wind blade carved through the spot where I had been standing.
The wooden pillars split cleanly.
The roof collapsed in a shriek of tearing timber.
I landed on a narrow beam, balancing instinctively.
Still, my situation was terrible.
Above Xin Chin’s head floated her level.
[Level 335] [Xin Chin]
That was roughly Meng Rong’s level. This was not a small gap.
Wind blades erupted again, shredding what remained of the gazebo. I double-jumped, flipping midair as invisible crescents sliced through splintered wood beneath me.
I landed lightly on a broken archway, anticipating a frontal assault. However, destroying any perceived initiative was a strange existence suddenly embracing me from behind.
“Ha ha ha ha ha~!”
The laughter burst from my throat. It was not my intention. A cold presence brushed against the back of my consciousness, like icy fingers dragging along glass.
A whisper echoed in my mind.
“How do alchemists stay in shape? They do ‘pill-ates’ every morning.”
What?
My mouth moved against my will.
“Ha ha ha ha ha~!”
It was not funny. It was not even remotely funny. Yet my body shook with forced mirth as invisible chains tightened around my limbs again. Not needles this time. Something deeper and spiritual.
Xin Chin walked toward me slowly, her fan resting lazily against her palm, a cruel smile forming.
Another whisper.
“Why did the immortal break up with the jade beauty? She said he was too ‘sect-sy’ for her.”
What the fucking hell was this? Stop. Stop laughing! Tears formed at the corners of my eyes from the forced hysteria.
Xin Chin tilted her head. “I was expecting more.”
Inside me, I shouted, “Yakuza Man, a little help here!”
His response came calm and detached.
“There is no need. If you die now, that is all you amount to.”
“Hey, you die too!”
“It is fine,” he replied. “If this is your limit, then give up. You will wake up in your apartment. Intact. This world will become nothing but a dream. If you continue, only pain awaits.”
The laughter kept spilling out of me.
Rage burned hotter.
Fuck that.
I was not about to take a beating lying down because a disembodied edgelord decided this was my ceiling. The laughter stopped. Not because the effect ended. Because I forced it down. A well of strength I didn’t know I have burst forth from within.
Xin Chin’s eyes narrowed slightly.
She swung her fan.
A massive wind blade descended toward me, wide enough to bisect my torso.
I raised the bat and parried.
The impact rattled my bones, but I held.
“I idolized you,” I muttered inwardly to Yakuza Man as sparks flew from the clash. “Your fighting spirit. Your refusal to kneel. Everything.”
I gritted my teeth.
“I did not think you would be this weak.”
Xin Chin scowled. “What are you talking about?”
But that was not for her. That was for the voice inside me. If this was my limit, then I would break it even if it hurt.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that should not have been there.
A translucent outline hovered slightly behind me, warped and half-phased into existence.
[Level 350] [Laughing Demon]
[Health: 1%]
One percent.
I did not think I was supposed to see it.
It was likely some parasitic spirit clinging to my back, hidden through illusion or spiritual concealment. Xin Chin’s earlier laughter technique suddenly made sense. The bad jokes. The forced hysteria. The immobilization.
But if it had a health bar, then it was fair game.
Without hesitation, I pivoted and swung.
“Heavenly Punishment!”
Golden radiance exploded from my bat, pure and searing. The arc of light cleaved through the air behind me, striking the invisible entity.
A shrill, distorted scream tore through the space.
The [Laughing Demon] convulsed, its ghostly shape forced into clarity for a split second before it shattered like smoke under sunlight.
Dead.
Silence fell.
I turned my glare on Xin Chin.
She staggered back, clutching her chest.
Then she vomited blood.
Her face twisted in disbelief. “What did you do? H-How are you able to hurt my Laughing Demon?”
Her breathing grew ragged.
“N-No… Are you the one? The secret master protecting the Meteor Child?”
Above her head:
[Health: 33%]
A blinking red icon pulsed beside it.
[Debuff: Weakness]
So killing the Laughing Demon triggered backlash.
Contracted spirit damage transfer.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
That explained the sudden drop.
I would love to say that was calculated brilliance.
In reality, I got lucky.
But luck was also a skill.
I noticed faint scorch marks crawling along her meridians, dark residue clinging to her spiritual flow. I faintly remembered Yakuza Man’s dark flames burning Yao Tazhu before with residual corruption.
Her foundation was not clean.
The system chimed again.
Level up.
Level up.
I immediately allocated the new points.
[NAME: YAKUZA MAN]
[LEVEL: 274]
Health: 100%
Energy: 100%
Awesomeness: 94 + 24
Swiftness: 82
Toughness: 62
Life Token: 2 / 3
Awesomeness surged.
If I was going to win, I would do it stylishly. I activated Energy Mastery and Double Jump simultaneously, compressing power into my legs and launching forward in a single explosive leap.
The world blurred and I closed the distance instantly.
Xin Chin’s figure dissolved into mist.
“That is my afterimage, fool!” she snarled from my left.
Wind pressure gathered behind me.
I twisted midair and changed direction at a perfect ninety-degree angle, burning the last charge of Double Jump to redirect momentum.
My wrist burned.
The Binding Vow mark flared to life. Ever since Xue Hai’s ridiculous declaration, it felt… different. No longer just a restraint tying me to Meng Rong. It felt like a conduit of power waiting to be unleashed as of this moment. So I tapped into it.
Power surged through me, star-like and brilliant.
“Heavenly Punishment!”
I brought the bat down toward Xin Chin’s face.
This time, the golden aura flared blue at the edges, streaking forward like a shooting star tearing across the sky.
She raised her fan to parry.
Metal met metal.
Her fan cracked.
The radiant force broke through.
Blood burst from her nose as the impact stunned her, her body flung upward into the air.
I dropped into a crouch, muscles coiling.
“Tyrant’s Path!”
The bat swung upward from below, drenched in a violent crimson aura. The strike connected cleanly with her abdomen, launching her even higher.
She arced toward the sky like a broken kite.
But I was not finished.
“Heaven-Silk Art.”
Threads of luminous energy shot from my fingertips, thin as spider silk yet taut with spiritual force. They latched onto her limbs midair. I yanked downward, hard. Her body slammed into the remains of the gazebo with a thunderous crash, splintering wood and cracking stone beneath her.
Dust and debris exploded outward.
I landed lightly, bat resting against my shoulder, staring down at the crater where she lay.
Xin Chin lay twisted among broken beams and shattered tiles. Her fan had snapped in half beside her, lacquered ribs split clean through. Dust settled slowly around her unmoving body.
I focused on the translucent display hovering above her.
[Health: 0%]
If the health bar could be trusted, she was probably dead.
I let out a slow breath.
My status panel blinked in response.
[Energy: 100%]
That was not normal.
I had burned through multiple skills back-to-back. Heavenly Punishment twice. Tyrant’s Path. Heaven-Silk Art. Double Jump chains. Energy Mastery. Even with my current pool, I should not have been full.
The Binding Vow around my wrist pulsed faintly, moon-and-star patterns circling the shooting star mark that had appeared after Xue Hai’s absurd proclamation. It was feeding me.
Whatever that power was, it was not infinite.
The moment the surge faded, exhaustion crashed into me like a wave. My muscles trembled slightly. My vision blurred at the edges before stabilizing.
Cooldown, I concluded grimly.
I could probably tap into that well again, but not immediately. If I forced it, I suspected the backlash would be ugly.
I straightened and looked around.
The gazebo was destroyed. The courtyard was in ruins.
Yet no guards arrived.
It was too quiet.
This was bad.
I sprinted toward the main residence, allocating the stat points I had gained from killing Xin Chin while moving.
[NAME: YAKUZA MAN]
[LEVEL: 295]
Health: 100%
Energy: 100%
Awesomeness: 118 + 21
Swiftness: 82
Toughness: 62
Life Token: 2 / 3
Awesomeness climbed again. If nothing else, I would go down looking cool. The deeper I ran into the estate, the clearer the situation became.
Bodies.
Maidservants collapsed along corridors, blood staining silk uniforms. Guards lay slumped against pillars, throats slit with surgical precision. There was no chaos in their deaths. It was systematic.
I turned a corner and nearly slipped on blood pooling across the tiles.
Teng Wen lay against the wall, clutching his abdomen. His breathing was shallow, robes soaked red.
I dropped to my knees beside him. “Hold on.”
I pressed my hands against the wound instinctively, though I was no medic.
“S-stop,” Teng Wen rasped through clenched teeth. “I am… a lost cause.”
“You do not get to decide that,” I shot back.
He coughed weakly. “P-Please… save Lord Meng… He is the hope of this domain…”
I forced myself to steady my breathing and opened the system shop interface.
Consumables.
Cheap. Reliable. Cost-effective.
Band-aids.
To anyone from Earth, this would look ridiculous. Slapping modern adhesive bandages onto mortal wounds in a cultivation world filled with talismans and miracle pills.
But in game terms, each one restored ten percent health.
Reliable mechanics trumped aesthetics.
I purchased a stack and began applying them over the worst injuries. The wounds did not magically close in a cinematic glow, but the bleeding slowed. His health bar ticked upward incrementally.
Ten percent.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The more advanced bandages in the shop promised greater recovery, but they were expensive. I needed to manage resources. I had no idea how long this would drag on or how many were hurt. When Teng Wen’s breathing stabilized enough that he could sit upright, I shoved a handful of band-aids into his trembling hands.
“Look around the residence and save anyone you can,” I said firmly. “Meng Wu would want that too.”
He stared at the adhesive strips like they were divine artifacts.
I helped him to his feet.
“Where did the other one go?” I asked.
His expression shifted from pain to horror. “There is more than one?”
“I already dealt with a woman using illusions,” I replied quickly. “There was a man with needles. Smug face. Looks like he enjoys his job.”
Teng Wen swallowed hard. “He has been running through the residence… torturing anyone of importance. He was searching for the lord.”
My jaw tightened.
“If everything went well,” Teng Wen continued weakly, “Lord Meng and Lady Zhu should have escaped through the secret passages. But I would not rely on that. That man uses evil sorcery, Yakuza Man. His techniques are… unnatural.”
“Tell me where to go.”
He hesitated only a moment before pointing down a bloodstreaked corridor toward a concealed panel behind a carved screen.
“Third courtyard. Behind the ancestral mural. There is a hidden passage.”
I nodded once and turned to run.
“What’s that smell?”
I followed the scent, hoping it was not what I think it was.
Blood had a thickness to it, metallic and cloying, seeping into wood and cloth until the air itself felt heavy. The deeper I went into the servants’ quarters, the stronger it became.
When I slid the door open, the world inside felt wrong.
Bodies were piled carelessly across the tatami floor, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood soaked through bedding and pooled between floorboards. The copper stench coated my tongue.
At the center of it all crouched a single figure.
The sound of chewing echoed in the enclosed space, the pit-pat of wet blood staining the floor further. It was a horrid sight.
Above his head hovered the translucent display.
[Lang Bo] [Level 370]
My heartbeat slowed.
This one was stronger than Xin Chin.
Lang Bo stopped mid-bite and turned his head toward me.
The movement was not natural. His neck rotated too far, vertebrae cracking audibly as skin stretched and twisted before settling back into place. His eyes gleamed with idle curiosity.
“Oh,” he said lightly, licking blood from his fingers. “You are alive. How did Xin Chin do?”
“I killed her,” I replied flatly.
He sighed as if mildly inconvenienced. “Yes, I saw that coming. She was too proud for her own good.”
He rose to his full height, stepping down from the mound of corpses as though dismounting a stage. Blood dripped from his sleeves.
“I suppose it is only fair,” he continued conversationally, “since we killed one of yours.”
My grip tightened around the bat.
What?
Did he mean Zhu Shufen? Meng Wu?
Lang Bo tilted his head, studying my reaction with amusement. “Unfortunately, Meng Wu and Zhu Shufen escaped. After all the effort we put into preparing this operation, they slipped away. They probably took the Meteor Child with them. Failure after failure.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Regardless,” he added, eyes sharpening, “I should enjoy myself properly.”
I raised the bat, pointing it at him. “Who did you kill?”
His grin widened.
“I believe her name was Meng Rong,” he said lazily. “She squealed quite nicely. I would have liked to savor her more, but the elder crushed her thoroughly. Hardly anything left. A shame. She was talented.”
The words hit like a hammer.
For a fraction of a second, my thoughts scattered.
It had to be a lie.
Or perhaps he believed it.
The Binding Vow around my wrist still pulsed faintly. It had not shattered. It had not burned away.
Meng Rong was alive.
She had to be.
Even if doubt tried to worm its way in, I could not let him see it.
Focus.
Do not let him dictate the rhythm.
I exploded forward, activating Double Jump to close the distance in a blink of an eye…
However, I didn’t make it far. I was stopped abruptly as sudden pain bloomed within me. A narrow stream of blood shot from the floor like a spear and pierced straight through my abdomen. I stared down in disbelief as red protruded from my stomach.
Lang Bo’s eyes lit up.
“Ah,” he said delightedly, “right through the liver. I will take my time with you. It is rare to find meat this fresh.”
If that strike had been a few centimeters higher, I would have been dead instantly.
I staggered back, realizing the trap too late as a consequence of this blood controlling ability. As of the moment, the entire room was saturated in blood. Every drop on the floor. Every smear on the walls. Every corpse leaking onto the tatami.
This was Lang Bo’s domain.
I leaped upward, aiming to break through the ceiling and escape the kill zone. Multiple streams of blood erupted at once, lancing into my limbs midair. Shoulder. Thigh. Calf. Side.
They injected something in my body, forcibly stopping my momentum.
My body seized as the foreign energy invaded my meridians, locking them down. The sensation was disturbingly similar to the needle paralysis from earlier, only thicker, and more invasive.
I crashed face-first into the pile of corpses.
My limbs refused to respond. Neither sensation nor strength could move my limbs.
Lang Bo’s laughter filled the room, manic and unrestrained.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! What a joyous occasion! It has been so long since I have tasted someone of your level.”
His footsteps approached slowly, unhurried.
“You should be exquisite,” he murmured. “After all, you cultivated so well.”
His tongue dragged across his lower lip.
“Strong meridians,” he continued thoughtfully. “Do you know what that means? Firm texture. Excellent elasticity. Not stringy like those weak servants.” He nudged a corpse beside me with mild disdain. “They collapse too quickly in the mouth. No resistance. No character.”
He tapped my shoulder experimentally, then pressed down, testing the muscle beneath.
“Ah… this is good,” he whispered. “Well-trained. Dense. I wonder… should I start with the deltoid? Or perhaps carve along the ribs first and peel the flesh cleanly from the bone?”
His fingernails elongated slightly, sharpening unconsciously as he traced a line down my side, following the path of the blood spear that had pierced me.
“The liver would have been delightful,” he sighed regretfully. “So rich. So nourishing. But I punctured it. That will affect the flavor. Careless of me.”
He tilted his head again, eyes glittering.
“Perhaps I should begin with something simple. The forearm, maybe. It is always satisfying to strip the meat between the ulna and radius. You can gnaw it cleanly if you know how to angle your teeth.” He demonstrated with his fingers, mimicking a bite. “Crack. Twist. Pull.”
He laughed softly to himself.
“Or the thigh,” he mused. “The quadriceps on a cultivator are marvelous. Power stored in every fiber. I could slice thin strips and savor them slowly. Raw is best. Warm. Still pulsing.”
His gaze drifted upward toward my chest.
“Of course, the heart…” His voice dropped reverently. “That is the finest delicacy. Especially from someone who struggles. Fear seasons the blood. Determination tightens the muscle. I can taste your resistance already.”
He leaned closer, his breath hot and copper-scented against my ear.
“Do not worry,” he whispered cheerfully. “I will not kill you too quickly. I prefer when the meal can still scream.”
His fingers pressed lightly against my sternum, as if marking where he would cut.
“Tell me,” he added conversationally, “which part of yourself are you most proud of? I could start there. It feels only fair.”
His laughter bubbled up again, high and delighted, echoing off the bloodstained walls as he prepared to carve me.
