I was confident I could put up a good fight.

  My moves were flashy, my timing sharp, and my kit was built for brawling. Still, confidence did not equal certainty, and I doubted I could actually win. I had seen how fast Huang Yong’s health regenerated. Dong Li was not far off from that level.

  [Dong Li] [Level 255].

  Back in YKU, nothing I had ever faced reached that height. The strongest enemy I fought was a Level 120 boss on the highest difficulty, and even then, those encounters relied heavily on gimmicks and pattern memorization. This was different. This was a living cultivator whose strength was not limited by scripts or phases.

  Of course, this could also be an opportunity.

  I had no idea what kind of special moves a cultivator at Dong Li’s level possessed. A single misstep could turn a “spar” into a funeral. More importantly, I had no intention of being strong-armed into joining a sect.

  There were advantages to joining one, sure. Resources, protection, knowledge. But joining blindly was a good way to lose control over my life, and control was the one thing I refused to give up.

  I still wanted to go home. Earth. Streaming. Back to a life with stable internet, air-conditioning, and food delivery at three in the morning. If I ever joined a sect, it would have to be one that allowed me to pursue that goal. Anything else was unacceptable.

  So I chose a different approach.

  “Senior Dong,” I said politely, “I am ignorant of the ways of cultivation. That said, even I can tell I’m at a severe handicap.”

  I paused, choosing my words carefully.

  “If we are to spar, I ask that you offer a handicap.”

  Exploiting the pride of the strong was not beneath me.

  Dong Li frowned slightly, then crossed his arms. He thought for a moment before nodding. “Fair,” he said. “If you can survive three of my basic punches, I’ll leave you alone.”

  My heart sank, though hope persisted behind it.

  I immediately recalled Huang Yong’s palm strike, the one that had shaved forty percent of my health even after a successful parry that halved the damage. If that strike had landed cleanly, I would have been dead in two moves.

  Dong Li called them “basic punches.”

  I glanced at my status. [Health: 63%].

  My regeneration was crawling.

  Curiosity stirred in me. How would I fare against him, really? However, it was quickly smothered by self-preservation. This was not the time to test my luck.

  Then another thought surfaced.

  If I could exploit the pride of the strong, I could also exploit the honor of the strong.

  I let my shoulders sag slightly and allowed a trace of strain into my voice. “Unfortunately,” I said, “I’ve already sustained injuries from confronting Young Master Huang Long at the Red Ember Inn. I was further wounded by Elder Huang Yong’s palm strike earlier.”

  That much, at least, was not a lie.

  Dong Li’s expression darkened for a brief moment, displeasure flickering across his face. He masked it quickly, but not before a sly smirk crept in.

  “In that case,” he said, “I’ll wait.”

  I stiffened inwardly.

  “A month,” he added. “Heal properly. Then we spar.”

  A month?

  I had expected a week. Maybe less.

  A month, however…

  That was enough time to prepare, plan, and find a way out of this mess without being dragged into a sect I did not choose.

  I forced a respectful nod.

  “Thank you for your consideration.”

  Inside, my resolve hardened.

  I really, really did not want to be coerced into joining a sect.

  The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became.

  A month was too convenient.

  Dong Li was probably not the sort of man to casually grant time out of kindness alone, and neither was a cultivator of his stature likely to forget an agreement once made. There was intent behind that offer, and I despised how clearly I could sense it without understanding it.

  I wished briefly and irrationally that someone would simply tell me what game was being played.

  That wish was answered, though not in the way I hoped.

  A young man in flowing blue robes stepped forward from among the guests. His posture was relaxed, his expression gentle, yet the air around him shifted subtly as he moved. Cultivators nearby straightened unconsciously, as though acknowledging an invisible weight.

  “I am Yao Yazhu,” he said, cupping his fist politely. “A representative of the Phantasm Star Sect.”

  The name hovered clearly in my vision.

  [Yao Yazhu][Level 240]

  Yao Yazhu smiled faintly as his gaze settled on me. “A month is perfect,” he said. “A hero who exposed injustice and stood against tyranny deserves time to rest and recover. In a month’s time, you may show your true potential without regret.”

  His words were too warm.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I didn’t believe for a second that they were meant solely for my benefit.

  Around us, murmurs of approval spread. Cultivators praised the magnanimity of the Boulder Path Sect and the Phantasm Star Sect, nodding as though witnessing an act of great virtue.

  I remained silent, my thoughts racing.

  How did my recovery benefit them? What did they gain from letting me live, rest, and grow stronger for a month?

  I didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to let the moment pass unused.

  “Since I am injured,” I said slowly, “and since Senior Dong Li has already shown such generosity, I wish to see his strength just once. Even a single strike. So I know what I am facing.”

  Yao Yazhu’s eyes brightened, his smile deepening. “Excellent spirit.”

  I caught it the brief exchange of glances between him and Dong Li.

  Dong Li nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I will give you one of the three blows. Here and now.”

  The space around us cleared almost immediately.

  I reached into my inner blazer and deliberately withdrew my bat from the [Inventory], making sure the motion was obvious, mundane, and almost theatrical. If nothing else, I wanted to demystify the game mechanic to some cultivator magic. Let them think it was simply a hidden compartment, a trick of clothing.

  I rolled my shoulders and raised the bat.

  “Come,” I said.

  I didn’t think too much of it. Huang Yong who was at higher level was able to dish quite the damage, but the person before me should be able to dish less, right?

  In hindsight, I realized just how foolish that confidence was.

  Dong Li planted his feet and took a deep breath. The moment stretched, the world seeming to hold itself still.

  Then he punched.

  It was just a single and clean jab.

  I reacted on instinct.

  The bat met his fist.

  [Parry: Successful]

  For an instant, relief surged through me.

  However, everything soon shattered.

  The force slammed into me like a collapsing mountain. My arms screamed as the impact tore through them, the bat rattling violently in my grip. The world spun as my body was hurled backward, smashing through a table, cracking against a pillar, and finally slamming into the wall behind it.

  Pain detonated across every nerve.

  [Health: 13%]

  I tasted blood immediately, thick and metallic, as my vision blurred at the edges. My limbs refused to respond properly, my body slack against the floor.

  Half the damage.

  That was all a parry gave me. If I hadn’t parried, I would have died on the spot. The realization hit harder than the punch itself.

  Footsteps rushed toward me.

  “Yakuza Man!”

  I vaguely recognized Tao Fang’s voice, strained with panic, and Tao Yu’s sharper cry as she dropped to her knees beside me. Faces swam in and out of focus, their expressions twisted with shock and fear.

  I tried to speak. I tried to reassure them.

  Instead, blood dripped from the corner of my mouth, and darkness closed in from all sides.

  My last coherent thought before consciousness slipped away was a bitter one.

  I had been incredibly, catastrophically naive.

  Soon, I woke up in darkness.

  Not the gentle darkness of closed eyes, but something deeper, heavier, like sinking into warm ink. The strange part was that I knew I was dreaming. That awareness clung to me even as everything around me felt painfully vivid, detailed enough that my chest tightened with the unsettling thought that this place might have been real.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  My voice echoed wrong, stretched thin, as if the sound itself were being swallowed.

  A shudder ran up my spine.

  When I looked forward, I saw him.

  Yakuza Man.

  Not me, but the real one. Taller, broader, standing with an oppressive weight that made my instincts scream. He looked exactly like the version etched into my memories and the game’s lore, radiating the kind of presence that didn’t need explanation.

  I opened my mouth to speak, to ask what this was, or who he really was.

  He screamed, “Fried chicken! I want fried chicken!”

  I froze.

  “What the—”

  He pulled out a bat.

  Before I could react, he rushed me.

  Pain exploded as the bat connected, over and over, the impact reverberating through my skull and bones. I tried to shield myself, tried to shout, but the world fractured into noise and force and absurd terror.

  I woke up screaming.

  My heart hammered so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. Cold sweat soaked my back as I stared up at a wooden ceiling, breathing raggedly.

  A bed.

  An actual bed.

  I turned my head.

  On the other bed beside mine lay Jia Bao, propped up against pillows, his pale face twisting in surprise when he saw my eyes open.

  “Benefactor,” he said quickly. “You’re finally awake.”

  I swallowed, my throat dry. “How long?”

  “A week,” he replied.

  I groaned softly. “That bastard nearly put me down for a month for real.”

  Jia Bao smiled bitterly. “I was worried you might not wake up at all.”

  I shifted, immediately regretting it as pain flared through my body. “How are you holding up?”

  “Alive,” he said. “But my meridians took severe damage. Huang Long targeted my energy points deliberately.” He lowered his gaze. “Perhaps this is karma. By losing his cultivation, the heavens thoroughly punished him! This wouldn’t have been possible without you, benefactor!”

  I checked myself.

  [Health: 70%]

  “Ugh,” I muttered.

  Then another notification appeared.

  [Status: Broken Bones]

  “…Ah, shit.”

  I didn’t have time for this.

  Without hesitation, I opened the [Shop] and bought an All-Mendthos for twenty-five Spirit Coins. The small, chalky candy appeared in my hand. I popped it into my mouth and chewed thoroughly. Warmth spread through my body, snapping and knitting, pain dissolving like mist under sunlight. The ache vanished. The stiffness faded.

  The status icon disappeared.

  I stood.

  Jia Bao stared at me, alarmed. “Benefactor, you should rest more.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “And I’m busy.”

  I met his eyes and gave him a nod. “Heal properly. Don’t push yourself.”

  He hesitated, then bowed his head. “I won’t forget this kindness.”

  I left the room before he could say anything else.

  As I stepped into the hallway, unease gnawed at me. I had underestimated the gap, badly. That single punch from Dong Li had taught me more than any book or conversation ever could. This wasn’t a game anymore.

  If I wanted to survive, I needed to get stronger. Fast.

  I stopped an attendant passing by and asked, “Where’s the exit?”

  The attendant pointed me toward the exit with a polite bow.

  From the layout and the quiet corridors, it was clear that after the banquet fiasco I had been moved directly into the infirmary within Lord Meng’s residence. Thinking back on it, I probably should have paid my respects and offered thanks. He was the lord, after all, and regardless of motives, he had sheltered me and allowed a physician to tend to my injuries.

  But etiquette was a foreign language to me.

  I could already see the gates ahead, sunlight spilling through the archway, and my feet kept moving. I decided to postpone my gratitude and just leave. If things turned sour later, I could always run to another city. Surely they wouldn’t bother hunting me down. In their eyes, I was just a lesser cultivatorm hardly worth the trouble. The cost of chasing me would outweigh the benefit of recruiting me.

  At least, that was what I told myself.

  A sharp prick struck my chest.

  I frowned, slowing my steps. The sensation wasn’t pain exactly. It was more like pressure, like disapproval pressing inward. Ever since that strange dream, I had the growing suspicion that the Yakuza Man inside me wasn’t just a title or a role I played. He felt… real. And he did not approve of me sneaking away like this.

  “Tch,” I muttered, pushing the thought aside.

  I stepped through the gates, and nearly collided with someone.

  I stopped short.

  Meng Rong stood there, hands folded behind her back, dark blue robes stirring lightly in the breeze. She looked as though she had been waiting for some time.

  Her gaze swept over me, calm but sharp. “You’re leaving already?”

  My heart sank.

  She continued coolly, “Isn’t that a little cold? After the kindness my younger brother showed you, the least you could do is visit him and offer your thanks.”

  I screwed up. Again.

  I had always thought of myself as reasonably wise, at least back on Earth. Here, that confidence felt more and more like self-delusion. In this world, a single misstep could be interpreted a hundred different ways, and none of them were good.

  Hopefully, this wouldn’t be viewed as such a grave slight that it would get me killed.

  Meng Rong raised an eyebrow, studying my face. “What’s that look? Do you have constipation?”

  “…What?”

  “No,” I said quickly, forcing myself to straighten. “I’m just nervous.”

  I cupped my fist and bowed slightly, choosing my words carefully. “If it seemed like I was in a hurry, I apologize. I meant no disrespect to the Lord of Xincheng.”

  “Do you know that eloquence has limits?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, unsure where this was going.

  “Forget about it,” said Meng Rong. “I spoke too hastily, but let’s just say… a silver tongue is not sharper than a sword, so you should take better care of yourself.”