Li Pan sat on the roadside, panting—huff… huff… huff… saliva—or rather blood—dribbling uncontrollably from his lips.
He didn't even have the strength to wipe it away.
He was finished. That last killing kick had drained all his inner force.
After all, it was the first time he'd ever seen someone else in World 0791 capable of projecting sword-qi.
Though the man's slash was different from his own, who could say? Fearing his foe might have hidden arts, Li Pan had channeled every shred of power into that groin strike. It killed the swordsman, likely shattering his meridians and organs with internal force—but also wrecked Li Pan's own body.
He'd managed to hop around a bit before, but as soon as he relaxed, fatigue drowned him like a tide. He barely made it two blocks from the hospital before collapsing, blood spattering a trail behind him.
Damn. Too reckless—charging head-on without proper gear, eating bullets to the face… stupid.
He gasped, eyes shut, trying to recover. A little strength trickled back. He forced himself upright.
No matter what, he had to reach the rendezvous point. If he could log out, it'd be fine.
Then he opened his eyes—
And found himself not in Night City… but in a cell.
What the hell? Another dream?
He looked down. Once again, the body of the boy in coarse robe and straw sandals, hair tied with a wooden pin. No wounds. Intact. But the black dog was gone.
Blinking did nothing—he couldn't return to 0791. He sighed and studied his cell.
It was gray stone, smooth as if carved from solid rock. No door, only a small barred window the size of a head. How he'd been stuffed inside was anyone's guess.
He tested his qi. The Nine Yin energy was there, but sealed—no protective aura, no sword-qi. Just base physical strength.
He jumped, gripping the bars, peeking out. Total darkness beyond, like a larger chamber.
Alone, silence pressing in. PTSD surged—memories of being trapped offline in QVN. Breath caught in his chest.
Don't think. Don't think. Sleep! Sleep it off!
He lay down, alternating sleep and meditation.
One night passed, then another. By his reckoning—three months slipped by.
"Hey! Anyone out there?! Anybody?! Aaaah!"
Li Pan nearly lost his mind, clawing the bars, screaming for help.
"Save me! Little Black! Are you here? Woof! Woof! Come on, boy! Don't eat my dog!"
Silence… until—
"Shut up…"
What?! Someone!
From the dark, a face floated into view—long black beard, gaunt cheeks, hollow sockets with twin blue gem-like pupils shining. Like a mask more than a man.
"You… can see me?"
Li Pan squinted. "What kind of question is that? You're right in my face."
The face swayed left, right, up, down, confirming Li Pan's gaze followed. Finally it sighed: "Heaven's will…"
Li Pan grinned, reaching to tug the beard. Solid. Not a hallucination. Thank god—he wasn't talking to a volleyball.
The face scowled. "What is a volleyball?"
Li Pan rambled about a man on an island befriending a ball.
"So you treat me as your friend?"
"Why not? We're cellmates now. Hey, what crime got you locked up?"
The bearded face only chuckled, then drifted away.
But Li Pan was reassured—he wasn't alone.
Time blurred. He trained to distract from hunger. Oddly, cultivation here worked well: qi sealed inside, endlessly circulating, refined without leakage or outside interference.
Maybe this wasn't a prison—but a place to cultivate?
His mind replayed the swordsman's slash. Could monkey sword techniques be adapted, gathering qi and releasing it in one strike?
He mimed, stabbing and leaping like a soldier breaking through armor ranks.
The bearded voice suddenly laughed, echoing: "Monkey sword, hahahaha!"
Startled, Li Pan asked, "Can you read minds?"
"No. But that form isn't mimicking monkeys. It mimics men. Armored warriors, exhausted, charging with short swords when lances broke. Stabbing relentlessly through gaps until everyone fell. That's the movement."
Li Pan shivered at the vivid image.
"So… it's not about the form. Kill enough. Until the movements become your sword. Then it's truly yours."
Puzzled but intrigued, he kept practicing—jump, stab, stab—until he lost himself. Not a man, not a monkey. A sword. His limbs and meridians fused with blade-intent. Qi within ignited like a torch—something wanted to be unsheathed—
"Stop."
The icy command doused it all. The bearded face stared from the bars.
"Your talent is fine. But this path isn't for you. Stick to your original cultivation, or you'll waste time."
Li Pan blinked. "Wait—you're… teaching me? Taking me as disciple?"
The face asked, "Would you accept me as master?"
Li Pan shrugged. "Sure, why not? Better than rotting here."
The face drifted away, offended.
Li Pan panicked. "Wait, wait! My mistake! You're a master, a senior! Worthy of worship! Master, I, Li Pan, bow to you! Please accept me!"
He kowtowed three times, nine knocks of his head on stone.
When he looked up, the man stood there fully: tall, thin as bamboo, blue Daoist robe, yellow hairpin binding his hair, whisk in hand.
He accepted the bows calmly.
Li Pan gasped. "You… you can cross over? Then you can leave?"
The Daoist sneered. "What place can bind me, Xiantong?"
"Xiantong…?"
"Yes. I am the Seeker of Boundless Seas, Lord of Daiyu, of the Supreme True Palace—Xiantong."
Those gem-like eyes pierced him. "You've heard of me?"
"Uh… sure! Teacher Xian!"
"…Fine. You kowtowed, I'll take you. From this day, you are my true disciple of the Taishang Supreme Sect. The only one, and thus my senior disciple."
Li Pan's eyes lit. Cultivation! Real sect master!
Xiantong continued: "Our lineage is of the 'Qing' generation. Since your name is Pan, the coiled dragon, your Daoist name shall be Qingyun."
"Li Qingyun… simple, but nice."
Xiantong asked, "What do you wish to learn?"
"Anything, Master! I'll study whatever you teach."
"Good. Your current art suits you—Nine Yin can carry you far, perhaps even to union with the Dao if fate permits. But your martial skills are shallow. You've tasted sword-forms, but lack a true heart-method. That path won't serve you. Better to learn another."
He raised a hand. A long spear appeared, blade-like head, closer to a halberd.
Li Pan gawked. "Seriously? No firearms? Am I doomed to melee forever?"
The cell expanded to fit the weapon.
Xiantong smirked. "Didn't you say you'd learn anything?"
"Yes! Anything!"
"Good!"
He snapped his wrist—stabbed forward.
In an instant, thunder boomed, clouds rolled, light split the dark. The spear roared, nine sound barriers shattering, piercing realms. Not a spear—a dragon. A violent dragon of pure destructive force, fangs bared, crashing forward—
Straight into the boy's brow.
And Li Pan woke up.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
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