The city of Iron Heart was the beating pulse of the province, a fortress of commerce, martial arts, and most importantly to Han Ryu decent soap.
Standing before the towering obsidian gates, Ryu felt a familiar pang of longing. Three years ago, he would have entered this city in a carriage pulled by four white stallions, with a herald clearing the way. Today, he was standing downwind of a cart carrying literal manure, and he was fairly certain the manure smelled better than his left sleeve.
[System Notification: Environmental Hazard Detected.]
[Current Odor Level: 'Stale Grave' mixed with 'Fermented Hope.']
[Suggestion: If the Host wishes to maintain 'Noble Pride,' please stop sniffing your own rags.]
Shut up, Ryu snapped internally. I am conducting a sensory audit of my current predicament. It builds character.
[Audacity +5. Character successfully 'Built.']
Ryu adjusted his "Jade Dragon" bamboo pole, leaning on it with the practiced grace of a scholar-king. He had five silver coins tucked into his belt a pittance, really, but in this gutter of a life, it was a fortune. His goal was simple: The Golden Swallow Pavilion. It was the finest restaurant in the city, and they served a steamed plum cake that Ryu had dreamt about every night for a thousand days.
The Gatekeepers of Mediocrity
The line for the city gates was long, filled with weary merchants and dusty travelers. At the front stood two guards in bronze-trimmed leather armor. They were bored, irritable, and looking for someone to bully.
When Ryu finally reached the front, the taller guard, a man with a nose like a crushed potato, held up a hand.
"Halt, beggar. The 'Slum District' entrance is three miles to the East. This gate is for people who contribute to the economy, not people who look like they've been coughed up by a sewer."
Ryu didn't flinch. He didn't plead. He simply tilted his head, looking at the guard with a mix of pity and profound boredom.
"My good man," Ryu began, his voice smooth and carrying that unmistakable 'Han' ring of authority. "Your assessment of my 'aesthetic' is as narrow minded as your tactical stance. Look at your feet. You're putting sixty percent of your weight on your heels. A gentle breeze from the north would topple you like a sack of turnips."
The guard blinked. The insults were so specific and delivered with such confidence that he actually checked his feet. He felt his face heat up. "What did you say, you piece of trash?"
"I am Han Ryu," he said, though he knew the name was currently a death warrant. "But for today, you may call me 'The Customer Who Is About To Make Your Shift Very Difficult.' I have the entry fee."
Ryu produced one of his silver coins. He didn't hand it over; he flicked it into the air with a casual spin. The silver caught the sunlight, gleaming brightly before landing perfectly in the guard's stunned palm.
"That is one silver," Ryu said. "The entry fee is three copper. Keep the change. Consider it a 'Competence Tip.' Use it to buy a book on how to stand properly."
[Humiliation Level: Moderate.]
[Spiteful Qi +30.]
[Skill Progress: 'The Beggar's Royal Strut' (Level 3).]
The guard looked at the silver. It was real. It was more money than he made in a week. His greed fought with his pride for three seconds. Greed won with a knockout.
"Fine," the guard grumbled, stepping aside. "But if I see you begging in the high-market, I'll throw you in the stocks myself."
"Begging?" Ryu scoffed, walking past with his nose in the air. "I don't beg. I merely provide the wealthy with the opportunity to perform a charitable act of great merit. It's a service, really."
The Golden Swallow Pavilion
The High Market was a sensory overload. The smell of roasted duck, the chime of wind-bells, and the sight of people wearing clothes that weren't held together by mud. Ryu felt his Spiteful Qi vibrating. Every time a wealthy merchant walked past him holding their nose, his internal power grew a tiny bit.
I could stay in this city forever, Ryu thought. The amount of arrogance here is a goldmine for my cultivation.
Finally, he stood before the Golden Swallow. It was a three-story pagoda of red lacquer and gold leaf. Two massive stone lions guarded the door, and the air around it smelled like heaven.
He walked toward the entrance.
"Stop right there!"
The Maitre d' was a man who looked like he had been born in a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back with enough oil to fry a fish, and his expression suggested he had just smelled something truly offensive namely, Ryu.
"The back alley is for deliveries," the man said, waving a silk handkerchief in front of his face. "Go on, shoo. We don't want the patrons losing their appetites."
Ryu stopped. He leaned on his bamboo pole and let out a long, weary sigh. "Everywhere I go, the same lack of vision. Do you know why this restaurant is only 'reputable' and not 'legendary'?"
The Maitre d' paused, confused. "What?"
"The atmosphere," Ryu said, gesturing to the opulent entrance. "It's too… expected. Too new-money. What you lack is 'The Sage's Contrast.' A true connoisseur knows that the best food is appreciated most when in the presence of someone who truly understands suffering."
"Are you… are you trying to philosophize your way into a free meal?"
"Free?" Ryu reached into his rags and pulled out three silver coins. He fanned them out like a deck of cards. "I want your best table. Outside. On the terrace. I want the world to see me eating your Plum Cake. It will create a 'Mysterious Master' vibe. People will pay extra just to wonder who I am."
[System: Error. Host's 'Bullsh*tting' stat is reaching critical levels.]
[New Passive Unlocked: 'Shameless Logic.']
Description: You can justify anything. The more ridiculous the lie, the more people are likely to believe you out of pure confusion.
The Maitre d' looked at the silver. Then he looked at Ryu's matted hair. Then he looked at the silver again.
"I… I suppose the terrace is mostly empty this afternoon," the man whispered, his greed once again overcoming his common sense. "But you must sit behind the large fern. And if you speak to anyone, I will have the kitchen staff beat you with rolling pins."
"A fern?" Ryu smirked. "Excellent. I've always felt my profile looked best when framed by foliage. Lead the way, my oiled friend."
The Terrace of Truth
Ryu was led to a secluded corner of the terrace. He sat on a silk-cushioned chair, his dirty rags leaving a faint smudge on the fabric. He didn't care. He felt the Spiteful Qi in his dantian swirling with delight.
Across the terrace, a group of young disciples from the Iron Mountain Sect were celebrating a successful hunt. They were loud, wearing expensive blue robes, and throwing their weight around.
Among them was a young woman with a sharp gaze and a sword hilt wrapped in white ray-skin. She looked at Ryu, her eyes narrowing. She didn't look disgusted; she looked curious.
Wait, Ryu thought. She looks familiar.
[System Warning: High-Level Cultivator Detected.]
[Identity: Liu Shufen, 3rd Disciple of Iron Mountain. Rank: Core Formation (Early Stage).]
[Relationship: Former 'Acquaintance.']
Ryu froze. Liu Shufen. They had been "engaged" once, back when he was the Golden Son. It had been a political arrangement, one he had mocked relentlessly. He had told her that her sword-forms were "utilitarian and lacked soul."
She was the last person in the world he wanted to see while he looked like a wet cat.
Naturally, the System had other plans.
[Quest Triggered: The Great Face-Slap of the Ex-Fiancée.]
[Objective: Make her regret ever breaking the engagement (even though your family's downfall technically did it for her).]
[Reward: 500 Spiteful Qi and a 'Clean Robe' Voucher.]
Ryu looked at his muddy hands, then at the elegant woman across the terrace.
"System," he whispered. "I hate you."
[System: The feeling is mutual. Now, eat your plum cake and prepare for social warfare.]
The plum cake arrived on a plate of translucent celadon porcelain. It was a masterpiece of culinary art steamed to a perfect, trembling fluff, glazed with a reduction of honey and mountain berries, and topped with a single, gold-dusted mint leaf.
Han Ryu stared at it. His stomach made a sound like a dying mountain beast.
"Finally," he whispered, picking up the silver-tipped chopsticks with a hand that still had dirt under the fingernails. "A reunion three years in the making."
Across the terrace, the atmosphere had shifted. The Iron Mountain Sect disciples were no longer laughing. They had noticed the "Fern Beggar." Specifically, the young man leading the group a tall, broad shouldered fellow named Gao Feng was staring at Ryu with a look of intense offense.
Gao Feng was the kind of martial artist who believed that the world should be as orderly as his topknot. To see a vagrant sitting on a silk cushion, eating a cake that cost more than a commoner's monthly rent, was an affront to the natural order of the heavens.
"Maitre d'!" Gao Feng's voice boomed across the terrace, silencing the soft chime of the wind-bells. "Is this what the Golden Swallow has become? A feeding trough for street rats?"
The Maitre d' scurried over, sweating through his silk vest. "Honored Disciple, I... he had the silver! I couldn't"
"I don't care if he had a mountain of gold," Gao Feng snapped, standing up. His blue robes rustled with the weight of his Qi. "The smell is ruining the vintage of our wine. Throw him out, or I'll throw you out with him."
Han Ryu didn't look up. He took a bite of the plum cake. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a symphony of flavor that briefly made him forget he was a wanted man living in a gutter. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.
"The wine," Ryu said, his voice quiet but carrying perfectly through the silence, "is a Heavenly Spring Vintage from the Southern Valleys, bottled roughly four years ago. It's a delicate blend. If it's being 'ruined,' it's likely because your breath smells like unwashed iron and insecurity."
The entire terrace went silent. Even the birds in the eaves seemed to stop chirping.
[System Notification: Host has successfully 'Instigated a Suicidal Conflict.']
[Spiteful Qi +100.]
[Current Multiplier: 1.5x (Audacity of the Starving).]
Liu Shufen, the woman in black silk, leaned back in her chair. She watched Ryu with eyes that were as sharp as her blade. She hadn't recognized him yet three years of grime and a broken spirit changed a man but the tone of the voice... it was scratching at a memory she had tried to bury.
Gao Feng walked over to Ryu's table, his heavy boots thumping against the wood. He reached out and slammed his hand down next to Ryu's plate, making the delicate porcelain rattle.
"What did you say, rat?"
Ryu finally opened his eyes. He looked at Gao Feng's hand, then slowly traced his gaze up to the man's face. He didn't look afraid. He looked annoyed.
"I said your presence is detrimental to my dining experience," Ryu said, dabbing a corner of his mouth with a tattered, muddy sleeve as if it were the finest lace. "And your hand is dangerously close to my cake. I would hate for your mediocrity to be contagious."
"You... you crazy vagrant!" Gao Feng's face turned the color of a sunset. He raised his hand, Qi shimmering around his palm. It was a basic Mountain-Crushing Palm enough to shatter the table and every bone in Ryu's body.
"Gao Feng, stop."
The voice was cold, like a blade hitting ice. Liu Shufen had stood up. She walked over, her white-wrapped sword hilt catching the light.
"He's just a beggar," she said, her eyes fixed on Ryu. "Don't waste your Qi on someone so beneath you. It's embarrassing."
"Beneath him?" Ryu chuckled, leaning back into his silk chair. "My dear Shufen, your standards have dropped significantly if you consider this... person to be above anyone. He carries his sword like a butcher carries a cleaver. No soul. No artistry. Just... bulk."
Shufen froze. The way he said her name without a title, with that specific, mocking lilt it hit her like a physical blow.
"Who are you?" she whispered, her hand instinctively going to her sword.
"Me?" Ryu stood up. He used his bamboo pole to push himself to his feet, wincing as his "Fragile Orchid" body protested the movement. He stood as straight as he could, his tattered rags fluttering in the mountain breeze.
"I am the man who told you three years ago that your 'Autumn Moon' stance was too heavy on the left foot," Ryu said, a small, dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "It seems you haven't fixed it. You're still leaning, Shufen. It's quite disappointing."
The recognition hit her like a thunderbolt. "Han... Ryu?"
Gao Feng looked between them, his confusion turning into a different kind of rage jealousy. "This? This is the fallen Young Lord? The traitorous trash of the Han Clan? He's nothing but a beggar!"
"A beggar with better taste than you," Ryu countered.
[System: Quest Update!]
[Objective: Survive the 'Jealous Disciple's' Attack.]
[Reward: Unlock 'Spite Shop: Grade 1 Pills'.]
Gao Feng didn't wait for a signal. He roared and launched a punch. It wasn't a technical strike; it was a move fueled by pure, unadulterated hatred.
Ryu's heart hammered. He had no Qi to match a Core Formation disciple. But he had Spite.
System! Activate 'The Beggar's Royal Strut'!
[Confirmed. Consuming 150 Spiteful Qi.]
Ryu's body felt light not the lightness of health, but the lightness of a leaf being carried by a storm. As Gao Feng's fist lunged forward, Ryu didn't retreat. He stepped into the attack, spinning on the heel of his burlap-wrapped foot.
He moved like a ghost. Gao Feng's fist passed through the space Ryu had occupied a millisecond before. Using the momentum, Ryu raised his bamboo pole the Jade Dragon.
"The first rule of the Han Clan," Ryu whispered as he brought the pole down, "is that we never let a guest leave without a souvenir."
He didn't hit Gao Feng's head. He hit the man's belt specifically, the knot holding up his expensive blue trousers.
Snap.
The Spiteful Qi at the tip of the pole acted like a tiny, vibrating blade. The silk belt disintegrated.
Gao Feng, carried by the momentum of his missed punch, stumbled forward. As he did, his trousers weighted down by the heavy silver pouches and jade ornaments at his waist slid straight down to his ankles.
He tripped, his legs tangled in his own luxury, and face-planted into a tray of soup being carried by a passing waiter.
SPLASH.
A silence fell over the Golden Swallow Pavilion that was so profound you could hear the steam rising from the soup.
[CRITICAL HIT!]
[Target: Gao Feng's Dignity.]
[Damage: Permanent.]
[Spiteful Qi +500!]
[New Title: 'The Pant-Slayer'.]
Ryu leaned on his pole, panting heavily, his face pale but his eyes burning with triumph. He looked at Shufen, who was staring at the fallen Gao Feng in horrified silence.
"As I said," Ryu gasped, trying to keep his knees from buckling. "He's clumsy. You really should pick better company, Shufen. It's bad for your reputation."
Ryu turned, grabbed the last piece of plum cake from his plate, and started walking toward the stairs.
"Wait!" Shufen called out, her voice trembling. "The Azure Guard... they're looking for you. If you stay in the city, you'll die!"
Ryu stopped at the edge of the terrace. He didn't look back. He popped the last piece of cake into his mouth and chewed happily.
"Then let them come," he said, his voice muffled by the cake. "I've still got two silver coins left. I plan on being a very expensive ghost."
He descended the stairs, leaving behind a ruined restaurant, a humiliated genius, and a woman who was beginning to realize that the "Golden Son" hadn't just fallen he had evolved into something much more terrifying.