Arin limped toward the cafeteria, his ribs humming a pain lullaby, his pride blooming like a bruised flower.
> [Bone-Iron Constitution – Level 3 (2050 / 3000)]
Still 950 XP to go.
He spotted a group of inner sect disciples sitting at a bench. Strong. Arrogant. The kind who drank tea like it owed them rent.
Perfect.
He swaggered over—if "swagger" meant dragging one leg and grinning like he'd just eaten a lightning bolt.
"Hello, fellow cultivators!" he said with jazz hands.
They glanced up.
Then immediately looked back down at their food.
Arin slapped the table.
"Anyone here interested in building karma by kicking a man when he's down?"
No response.
One disciple muttered, "Ignore him. He feeds on humiliation."
"I feed on XP," Arin said proudly.
He noticed a particularly muscular girl biting into a chicken leg like it wronged her family.
"You!" he pointed. "You look like your love language is physical assault."
She raised a brow.
"…Hit me."
The girl blinked.
"I promise it's for spiritual reasons."
She slowly stood up. The bench creaked in relief. She cracked her knuckles.
Arin braced himself with open arms. "Make it poetic."
WHAM!
> [Direct Hit to Chestplate of Idiocy: +7 XP] [Bone-Iron Constitution – Level 3 (2057 / 3000)]
Arin flew backward and crashed into a pillar.
He sat up, spitting hay.
"That's the stuff. Who needs pills when you've got pain?"
The girl wiped her hands. "You're weird."
"I'm legendary."
---
Later — Herb Garden (Why? No One Knows)
Arin spotted a sect girl humming while trimming a soul-rooted herb.
He approached, still swaying.
"Excuse me," he said. "Would you like to reject me gently or publicly?"
She looked up, startled.
"…What?"
"Please reject me. Emotionally. Just crush my ego real quick. It's for my training."
"…I don't even know you."
"That's perfect!"
She blinked. Then politely smiled. "You're not my type."
> [Minor Rejection Received: +50 XP] [Bone-Iron Constitution – Level 3 (2107 / 3000)]
Arin nodded, dead serious. "Thank you for your service to cultivation."
He saluted her.
She walked away.
He walked into a tree.
> [+5 XP] [2112 / 3000]
---
Evening — Library Steps
Arin found a quiet corner where another inner sect girl sat reading.
He took a deep breath, fixed his tattered robes, and sat down beside her with an attempt at mysterious charm.
"Hey... if you were a spiritual beast, you'd be… legendary."
She didn't even look up.
He continued, undeterred. "You ever date a man who levels up from getting roasted?"
"I do like men," she said, finally glancing his way. "But your banana's too small to be likable."
> [Critical Emotional Hit: +50 XP] [Bonus XP: Cultivation Banana Disrespected +5] [Bone-Iron Constitution – Level 3 (2167 / 3000)]
Arin wheezed. "Fair. But my cultivation is… long-term focused."
She walked away.
He whispered after her, "Thank you, beautiful verbal assassin."
---
Night — Dormitory Roof
Arin lay on the roof, battered and grinning, staring at the stars.
> [Bone-Iron Constitution – Level 3 (2167 / 3000)]
Only 833 XP left.
The system chimed.
> [New Mission Issued!] Mission: The Triple Rejection Combo Objective: Get rejected by three different sect girls in one day. Reward: +50 XP + "Dumb Luck" Buff (+5% chance of surviving fatal blows) Penalty: Mira will call you a walking red flag. Again.
"Accepted," he whispered.
And like clockwork…
Footsteps.
Mira.
She stood beside the rooftop edge, arms folded.
"You're bleeding again," she said flatly.
"It's aesthetic."
"You got rejected thrice."
"Exactly as planned."
"You're one tragic poem away from being a walking Tumblr blog."
Arin grinned. "That's my brand."
She rolled her eyes. "You know what, fine."
He blinked. "Fine?"
"I'll reject you too."
He sat up. "Wha—"
"I wouldn't date you if the heavens collapsed and you were the last man alive with a phoenix feather and a dual-cultivation manual."
> [Final Rejection Logged: +50 XP] [Bone-Iron Constitution – Level 3 (2217 / 3000)] [Achievement Unlocked: Rejected Into Enlightenment] [Buff Gained: Dumb Luck (+5% chance of surviving fatal blows)]
Arin clutched his chest. "So poetic… it hurts."
Mira sighed. "You're insane."
"You keep saying that. But you're still here."
"…Shut up."
The wind blew.
He looked up at her silhouette under the moonlight and smiled.
"That's my Arin Valkar," he said to himself. "The GOAT of emotional trauma cultivation."