Wang Chen's eyes narrowed, a faint green tint of jealousy practically shimmering within them as he stared at the status window again… and again… and again.
No matter how many times he blinked, rubbed his eyes, or squinted suspiciously, the numbers didn't change.
They were still absurdly high.
After another long breath, he finally accepted the truth—whether he liked it or not.
Acceptance, however, did nothing to soothe the humiliation burning inside his chest.
Only he knew what it felt like to grind through the first floor with a shitty Cleaner class, a class so pathetic that even resentful ghosts treated him like free lunch. The day his body was torn apart the first time—bones cracking, flesh ripping, consciousness fading—he had thought he would carry that trauma to the grave.
And now?
His disciple awakened a godly, heaven-defying set of stats on day one.
Wang Chen's lips twitched uncontrollably.
What kind of reverse-karmic joke was this?
