The Iron Sword Sect didn't sleep. It hummed. The protective arrays buzzed with a low-frequency drone that vibrated in the teeth, a constant reminder of the power keeping the outside world at bay.
Jiang Chen moved through the shadows of the disciple quarters like a stain. His feet, wrapped in blood-crusted straw sandals, ghosted over the white gravel. The Serpent's Breath was active; his lungs felt filled with ice water, his presence suppressed to that of a common stone.
He wasn't going to the woodshed yet. He was following a scent.
Fifty meters ahead, stumbling near the bamboo grove, was Liu Ming. He was alone. He reeked of cheap rice wine and stale urine.
"Damn old fogeys..." Liu Ming hiccuped, leaning against a thick bamboo stalk to relieve himself. "Cutting my allowance... I need those stones for the auction..."
Jiang Chen watched from the dark. His eyes locked onto the small, embroidered pouch hanging from Liu Ming's waist.
Three stones.
His throat clicked dry. It wasn't greed; it was biological need. Just three stones and the hunger stops.
He stepped out.
CRUNCH.
It wasn't a twig. It was his own clumsiness—a loose stone grinding loudly against another. A remnant of the human habits the System hadn't fully deleted yet.
Liu Ming spun around, fumbling with his robes, piss splashing on his boots. "Who's there?!"
The moonlight hit Jiang Chen's face. Liu Ming froze. He blinked, swaying, trying to focus on the impossible.
"Jiang... Chen?" Liu Ming let out a sharp, wet laugh. "You're alive? We threw you off the cliff! How in the hells are you walking?"
"You didn't throw me far enough," Jiang Chen rasped.
Liu Ming's sneer returned, fueled by liquid courage. He was a 3rd Layer cultivator. To him, Jiang Chen wasn't a threat; he was a cockroach that had survived a stomping.
"You have some nerve coming back, trash," Liu Ming spat. He dropped the wine jar. It shattered, the smell of alcohol blooming in the air. "I guess I have to finish the job. If the Elders find out I failed to kill a servant, I lose face."
He raised his hand. Faint, blue Qi swirled around his palm. The air grew hot.
The Iron Palm. Basic, but strong enough to cave in a human chest.
"Die," Liu Ming growled, lunging.
Jiang Chen's heart spiked. This was real magic. This was death.
But before he could flinch, the cold text slashed across his vision.
[Threat: Cultivator (Layer 3).]
[Status: Intoxicated. Reaction Speed -40%.]
[Combat Assist: ENGAGED.]
The world didn't slow down—it sharpened.
Jiang Chen saw the blue palm coming for his face. He felt the heat radiating from it, singing his eyebrows.
Duck.
The command bypassed his brain and went straight to his muscles. Jiang Chen dropped to his knees. The glowing palm passed inches above his hair.
Sweep.
Jiang Chen's leg lashed out, fueled by the explosive density of the rat meat. He caught Liu Ming's ankle mid-step.
THUD.
Liu Ming lost his balance and face-planted into the sharp gravel. The Qi on his hand fizzled out as his concentration broke.
"You little—!" Liu Ming scrambled to get up, spitting blood and rocks.
[Target Vulnerable. Dislocate the shoulder.]
Jiang Chen didn't hesitate. He pounced on Liu Ming's back like a rabid dog. He grabbed the disciple's right arm, planted his foot between the shoulder blades, and pulled.
POP.
It wasn't a clean sound. It sounded like a raw chicken wing being twisted off the bone.
"AAAAHH!" Liu Ming screamed, a high-pitched shriek that tore through the quiet night.
"Shut up!" Jiang Chen hissed.
He grabbed a handful of gravel and dirt and shoved it into Liu Ming's mouth, stifling the scream into a choked gurgle.
He didn't know where this brutality came from. He had always been a pacifist. A coward. But right now, feeling Liu Ming's structure collapse under his hands felt... righteous. It felt like justice.
Liu Ming flailed with his left hand, slapping weakly at Jiang Chen's head. Without his martial arts, he was just a drunk man in pain.
Jiang Chen punched him in the temple. Once. Twice.
Liu Ming's eyes rolled back. He went limp.
Jiang Chen sat on top of his tormentor, chest heaving. His knuckles were bruised, but his blood was singing. An electric buzz zapped through his nerves.
He had defeated a cultivator.
[Combat Successful.]
[Proficiency Gained: Brawl - Level 1.]
Jiang Chen looked down at the unconscious body. His gaze drifted instantly to the waist pouch.
He ripped it off Liu Ming's belt. Fingers shaking, he undid the strings. Inside, glowing with a soft, milky light, were three irregular rocks the size of walnuts.
Low-Grade Spirit Stones.
To a normal disciple, this was currency. To Jiang Chen, it looked like food. The most delicious thing in the universe. The hunger in his stomach roared, louder than before, vibrating his ribs.
[Detected: High-Density Energy Source.]
[Consume immediately.]
Jiang Chen clutched the stones so hard their edges dug into his palm. He looked at Liu Ming's defenseless neck.
I should kill him, a dark thought whispered. If he wakes up, he tells everyone. The hunt begins.
Jiang Chen picked up a jagged rock. He held it over Liu Ming's temple.
[Advisory: Eliminating the witness is optimal.]
The System agreed.
Jiang Chen stared at the sleeping face of his bully. He trembled. Killing a monster in the ravine was survival. Smashing a man's skull while he slept... that was murder.
He lowered the rock. His hand was sweating.
"No," Jiang Chen whispered. "If a disciple goes missing, the Enforcement Hall tears the place apart. If he's just beaten and robbed... he might be too ashamed to admit a servant did it."
It was a rationalization. A thin, logical shield to protect the sliver of humanity he had left.
[Logic Accepted. Host decision noted.]
Jiang Chen stood up, spitting a glob of bloody saliva on the ground next to Liu Ming's face.
"Keep your life, dog. I took what matters."
He turned and vanished into the darkness of the bamboo grove, clutching the stones to his chest.
He didn't see the faint, red text that lingered on the interface for a second too long.
[Note: Host Mercy Level is high. Correction required in future stages.]