# Chapter 3: The Underground
Three days of intensive cultivation near minor Tear sites has pushed my progress faster than I ever imagined possible. My daily routine now runs like clockwork: construction work from 6 AM to 2 PM, monster hunting from 3 PM to 6 PM, cultivation from 7 PM to 2 AM, three hours of sleep enhanced by my improved physique, then repeat.
It shouldn't be sustainable. Any normal human attempting this schedule would collapse from exhaustion within a week. But Body Refinement Stage 2 has fundamentally altered my biology. I need less sleep, recover from fatigue faster, and can push my body to limits that would have hospitalized the old me.
The system tracks everything with ruthless precision.
[Current Status Update]
Name: Zhang Wuji
Cultivation Stage: Body Refinement Stage 2 (87% progress to Stage 3)
Spiritual Energy: 250/250
Thunder Affinity: 71%
Abilities: Lightning Palm, Lightning Step, Combat Instinct (Passive), Meridian Circulation
System Points: 127
Monsters Eliminated: 23 (D-Class: 21, C-Class: 2)
Current Grinding Streak: 3 days
The numbers tell a story of rapid advancement, but they don't capture the growing restlessness I feel. Twenty-three monsters sounds impressive until you realize they were all stragglers—weak entities that escaped Hunter Association cleanup crews and wandered into abandoned buildings or construction sites. Easy prey for someone with my abilities.
The system's latest message confirms what I've been suspecting.
[Current opponents insufficient for continued advancement. Host requires greater challenges to progress beyond Stage 2. Recommendation: Seek C-Class or higher entities in active combat scenarios.]
"Where exactly am I supposed to find C-Class monsters?" I whisper during my lunch break, pretending to check messages on my phone. "The Hunters clear out everything dangerous before civilians even know it's there."
[Underground markets exist for individuals seeking supernatural challenges. Previous Zhang family cultivators utilized similar networks to locate worthy opponents and rare cultivation resources.]
[Search recommendation: Nightfall District, Sector 7. Look for establishments displaying the "Broken Chain" symbol.]
The Nightfall District. I've heard whispers about it in the darker corners of internet forums—Beijing's unofficial supernatural underworld, where Hunters go to drink away trauma, where desperate civilians trade family heirlooms for Hunter protection, and where things happen that the government pretends not to notice.
It's also notoriously dangerous. The kind of place where people disappear and their bodies turn up in the Yangtze River three weeks later, if they turn up at all.
But the system is right about one thing: I've hit a wall. Three days of hunting weak stragglers has barely moved my advancement needle. If I want real power—if I want to honor my family's legacy—I need to take bigger risks.
After work, I head home to prepare. The family notes contain references to something called "Concealment Breathing," a technique designed to hide a cultivator's spiritual signature from detection. It takes me two hours to decipher the faded instructions and another hour to achieve basic competency.
[Skill Learned: Spiritual Concealment (Basic) - Reduces detection range by 70%, duration 4 hours]
Perfect. If I'm going into Beijing's supernatural underworld, the last thing I want is to broadcast my capabilities to every predator in the district.
---
The Nightfall District doesn't appear on any official map. Technically, it's just another residential area in Beijing's sprawling urban maze—narrow streets lined with aging apartment blocks, corner stores selling cigarettes and instant noodles, the occasional 24-hour internet café. But as night falls and normal people retreat to their homes, a different population emerges.
I spot my first Hunter five blocks into the district. She's sitting at a noodle stand, still wearing the tactical gear that marks her profession, with the thousand-yard stare that comes from seeing too many impossible things. Her right arm ends at the wrist—a common occupational hazard—but she manipulates her chopsticks with telekinetic precision that makes the disability irrelevant.
Two blocks further, I pass a group of teenagers trading vials of what looks like liquid starlight. Essence, probably—crystallized spiritual energy extracted from monster corpses. Highly illegal, moderately addictive, and supposedly capable of temporarily enhancing human capabilities beyond natural limits.
The Broken Chain symbol appears on a building that looks like it should have been condemned decades ago. The faded paint and boarded windows scream "abandoned warehouse," but the subtle hum of generators and the occasional flicker of light behind blackout curtains suggest otherwise.
I approach the unmarked door and knock three times, pause, then twice more—a pattern I remember from an obscure forum post about underground Hunter establishments.
The door opens to reveal a mountain of muscle in an expensive suit. His eyes glow with unnatural silver light as they scan me from head to toe, and I feel his supernatural senses probing against my concealment technique.
"First time?" he asks in a voice like grinding stone.
"Yes."
"Payment methods accepted: cash, Hunter credentials, monster parts, or..." His silver eyes narrow. "Special services. What've you got?"
I pull out the claw from yesterday's C-Class kill—a crystalline talon the size of my thumb that still crackles with residual electrical energy. The bouncer's expression shifts from bored professionalism to genuine interest.
"Dimensional Drake claw. Fresh, by the feel of it." He steps aside. "Welcome to the Underground, kid. Try not to die on your first night."
The interior defies the building's derelict exterior. What should be empty warehouse space has been converted into a multi-level complex that descends deep underground. The main floor buzzes with activity—Hunters trading war stories over drinks that glow with supernatural properties, civilian researchers examining monster parts under magnifying glasses, and groups of nervous-looking people clustered around betting windows.
But it's the lower levels that capture my attention. Through transparent aluminum windows, I can see arena spaces where figures move in blurs of superhuman speed, trading blows that crack concrete and send shockwaves through the air.
"First time seeing underground matches?" A woman's voice interrupts my observation. I turn to find someone who could be anywhere from twenty-five to forty—the kind of ageless quality that comes from extensive body modification or very high-level cultivation. Her auburn hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and her business suit is cut to accommodate the sword hilts visible over her shoulders.
"Is it that obvious?"
She laughs—a sound like silver bells with a hint of steel underneath. "You've got that wide-eyed tourist look. Plus, you're scanning for exits and threat assessment like someone who's never been in a truly dangerous place before." Her eyes narrow slightly. "Though your spiritual concealment is better than most newcomers manage. Professional training, or family techniques?"
Shit. She can see through my concealment like it's tissue paper. Time to deflect.
"Just careful by nature. What kind of matches do they run here?"
"Everything from exhibition spars to death matches, depending on what the crowd wants and how desperate the fighters are." She gestures toward the betting windows. "Most popular events are Hunter vs. Monster—captured entities from recent Tears, kept just hungry enough to put on a good show."
"And the Hunters volunteer for this?"
"Some do it for money. Some for the thrill. Some because they're addicted to combat and the Association doesn't provide enough legal outlets." Her smile turns predatory. "And some are looking to test new techniques in real combat situations without Hunter Association oversight."
That last category sounds perfect for my needs. "How does someone get involved in the fighting scene?"
"Depends what you're looking for. We've got beginner brackets for wannabe Hunters looking to prove themselves. Intermediate divisions for licensed Hunters maintaining their skills. And..." She pauses dramatically. "Special exhibitions for individuals with unique capabilities."
"Special exhibitions?"
"Off-the-books matches. No questions asked about background, training, or... legal status. Higher stakes, bigger rewards, considerably more dangerous." She extends a hand. "I'm Liu Mei, by the way. Fight promoter, talent scout, and professional risk assessor."
I shake her hand, noting the calluses that speak of extensive weapons training. "Zhang Wuji. Construction worker looking for additional income opportunities."
"Construction worker." Her grip tightens slightly, and I feel her probing my concealment again. "With spiritual concealment techniques and the kind of physical conditioning that takes years to develop. Right."
Before I can respond, the lights dim and a voice booms over hidden speakers: "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's main event! In the red corner, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, with fifteen confirmed kills and an Association rating of C-Class, we have 'Iron Fist' Wang Lei!"
The crowd roars as a massive Hunter enters the arena below. His arms are covered in metallic plating that gleams under the lights, and when he flexes, I can hear the whir of mechanical enhancement systems.
"And in the blue corner, captured just three days ago from the Fengtai District Tear, a Void Stalker! Twelve feet of interdimensional nightmare with a taste for human fear!"
The creature that emerges from the opposite gate defies easy description. It's roughly humanoid but wrong in every conceivable way—joints that bend in impossible directions, skin that seems to absorb light, and eyes like holes in reality itself. When it moves, it leaves trails of darkness in the air.
"This is what you'd be fighting if you joined the intermediate bracket," Liu Mei says conversationally. "Minimum C-Class monsters, maximum three-minute rounds, medical team standing by for resurrection attempts."
The fight begins with explosive violence. Wang Lei charges forward, his enhanced fists trailing sparks as they impact the creature's hide. But the Void Stalker moves like liquid shadow, flowing around attacks and striking back with claws that leave tears in the arena's reinforced walls.
Within thirty seconds, Wang Lei is bleeding from multiple wounds. Within sixty, he's struggling to stay conscious. At the ninety-second mark, the Void Stalker pins him to the ground and begins feeding on what looks like his life force.
The crowd goes wild. Money changes hands as bets are settled.
Wang Lei doesn't get back up.
"Medical team to Arena Three," the announcer calls with practiced indifference. "Next match begins in ten minutes."
I watch the cleanup crew drag away what's left of a licensed Hunter while the Void Stalker is herded back to its holding cell with electric prods. The casual brutality of it all should horrify me. Instead, I find myself calculating whether my Lightning Step would be fast enough to avoid those claws, whether Lightning Palm could penetrate that otherworldly hide.
"Interested?" Liu Mei asks.
I look at her sideways. "In getting torn apart by interdimensional monsters? Not particularly."
"In making five thousand yuan for a three-minute fight against a D-Class opponent. Win or lose, you walk away with payment. Of course, walking away is your responsibility."
Five thousand yuan. That's more than I make in two months at the construction site. It's also probably enough to pay for the cultivation resources mentioned in my family's notes—rare herbs and alchemical components that could accelerate my advancement significantly.
**[Opportunity detected,]** the system chimes in my mind. **[Underground combat provides optimal conditions for technique refinement and advancement pressure. Recommendation: Accept challenge with appropriate precautions.]**
"What kind of D-Class are we talking about?" I ask.
Liu Mei's smile widens. "Shadow Imp. Fast, aggressive, but relatively fragile. Perfect for testing a newcomer's reactions without guaranteed fatality."
I consider my options. Continue hunting stragglers for minimal advancement, or take a calculated risk for significant reward. The old me would have played it safe. But the old me was also broke, powerless, and destined for a lifetime of mediocrity.
"When's the next opening?"
"Tomorrow night, if you're serious. But first, you'll need to demonstrate basic competency. Can't have complete amateurs dying in the ring—it's bad for business and worse for our relationships with the city authorities."
She leads me to a smaller practice arena on the second sublevel. The space is roughly twenty feet square, surrounded by reinforced walls marked with scorch marks and impact craters. In the center stands a mechanical dummy that hums with electrical components.
"Show me what you can do," Liu Mei says, settling into a chair that provides an optimal viewing angle. "And drop the spiritual concealment. If you're going to fight here, I need to assess your actual capabilities."
I take a deep breath and release the technique. Immediately, the air around me begins to shimmer with barely contained electrical energy. My spiritual pressure—apparently much stronger than I realized—causes the mechanical dummy to spark and twitch.
Liu Mei's eyebrows rise. "Interesting. Lightning affinity, body cultivation, and... something else I can't quite identify. Family tradition or self-taught?"
"Family tradition."
"Good. Self-taught cultivators tend to have glaring weaknesses that get them killed in actual combat." She gestures toward the dummy. "Lightning Palm technique, full power. Let's see what kind of damage you can generate."
I settle into the stance described in my family's notes, feeling electricity gather in my right palm like a miniature thunderstorm. The sensation is intoxicating—raw power condensed into a space the size of my hand, waiting to be unleashed.
I step forward and drive my palm into the dummy's center mass.
Lightning erupts. Not the controlled discharge I've been using against monsters, but everything I can channel focused into a single devastating impact. The dummy explodes in a shower of sparks and twisted metal, sending fragments ricocheting off the reinforced walls.
When the smoke clears, nothing remains but a crater in the concrete floor and the lingering smell of ozone.
Liu Mei stares at the destruction for a long moment, then at me.
"Well," she says finally. "I think we can skip the D-Class opponents and move directly to C-Class. Congratulations, Zhang Wuji. You just earned yourself a spot in tomorrow night's featured matches."
[Achievement Unlocked: Underground Recognition]
[New Quest Available: Survive Your First Arena Match]
[Reward: +100 System Points, Advanced Combat Techniques, Underground Network Access]
I look at the crater where the practice dummy used to be and realize I've crossed another line. Yesterday I was a construction worker who occasionally killed stray monsters. Tonight, I'm an underground fighter preparing to face deliberately captured interdimensional entities for money and advancement.
My ancestors would either be proud or horrified. Possibly both.
But as I follow Liu Mei back upstairs to discuss match details and payment terms, I can't bring myself to regret the choice. In this world of Hunters and monsters, the only security is strength.
And tomorrow night, I'm going to find out exactly how strong I've become.
[Grinding Phase 2 Initiated: Combat Advancement Through Controlled Risk]
[Remember, Host: The greatest cultivation breakthroughs occur under pressure of actual death.]
Perfect. No pressure at all.