Luo Zhen shouldered his way through the press of bodies, the murmur of the crowd fading into a dull buzz as he reached the foot of the massive stone precipice. This was the heartbeat of the sect's economy—the Mission Wall. Etched into the rock face were the tasks that kept the Transformation Knife Sect running, a laundry list of chores and dangers available to any disciple hungry for advancement.
His gaze swept over the jagged lines of text, his eyes narrowing slightly as he parsed the opportunities.
"Collection: One thousand Ironblood Flowers. Reward: Fifty Sect Contribution Points."
"Hunting: Black Flame Monkey Inner Cores. Quantity unlimited. Reward: One contribution point per ten cores."
"Scouting..."
Luo Zhen read down the list, his interest waning with every line. The stone face was sparsely populated today, and what little was there offered a pitiful return on investment. It was grunt work. Labor for the desperate.
He wasn't the only one unimpressed. Around him, the energy was stagnant. Disciples hovered, but nobody was stepping forward to claim a token.
"Unbelievable," a young disciple standing near Luo Zhen muttered, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh. "It's the same garbage as yesterday. Just looking at these daily grinders makes me nauseous."
"Tell me about it," his companion replied, leaning back with a look of bone-deep exhaustion. "It's not just that they're exhausting—it's the math. You break your back for three days hunting monkeys, and for what? A handful of points? You'd get more benefit just sitting in your room and meditating for an hour."
"Only a complete idiot would take these on," the first disciple sneered, turning away. "Come on. Let's try again tomorrow. Maybe the RNG gods will bless us with a spawn that isn't a waste of life."
Muttering curses, the pair shuffled away, their dissatisfaction rippling through the remaining crowd. One by one, the other Outer Sect disciples cast disdainful looks at the stone wall and drifted out of the Mission Hall, leaving the tasks unclaimed.
Luo Zhen remained for a moment, thoughtful.
He remembered Zhang He explaining the mechanics of the Hall. It was a bifurcated system. The first tier consisted of these "Daily Tasks"—monotonous, low-yield grinding like gathering herbs or hunting low-level beasts. They were the blue-collar work of the cultivation world: necessary, tiring, and largely ignored by anyone with ambition.
The second tier was where the real game was played: the Star-Rated Elite Tasks. Higher risk, significantly higher reward.
But the Elite Tasks were governed by chance. They didn't appear on a schedule; they spawned randomly, relying on luck. And because the rewards were so lucrative, their appearance usually triggered a frenzy. It wasn't just about accepting the mission; it was about being fast enough to grab it before someone else did.
Luo Zhen gave the wall one last, dismissive glance, shook his head, and turned to leave. If the desperate masses of the Outer Sect turned their noses up at these scraps, he certainly wasn't going to demean himself for them. He had come merely to understand the ecosystem. Now that he knew the board was empty, it was time to focus on internal improvements.
Back in the dim quiet of his small cave dwelling, Luo Zhen sat cross-legged on his stone bed. The air was cool and damp, a welcome respite from the humidity of the crowded hall.
He flipped his wrist, the spatial ring on his finger glimmering faintly. Several small porcelain phials materialized in his palm.
He popped the cork on the first bottle. Immediately, a hiss of escaping gas filled the room, carrying a scent so acrid and venomous it seemed to curdle the air itself. Luo Zhen reacted instantly, his internal Monster Energy surging outward to form a barrier, suppressing the toxic plume before it could seep into the walls and make his home uninhabitable.
Inside the bottles sat the Corpse Beads.
They were spoils of war from his expedition into the Corpse Cave, calcified remnants of the undead horrors he had slaughtered. Until now, he hadn't found a stable moment to process them. But with his status in the sect secured, it was time to consume.
Corpse Beads were a double-edged delicacy. For a normal cultivator, they were hazardous materials. For Luo Zhen, they offered two specific benefits: boosting his poison attribute affinity and hardening his physical durability.
He shook a bead into his hand. It was grayish-white, heavy as lead, and radiated a cold, malignant energy. This was a Low-Grade bead. He had over a dozen of them, alongside a few shimmering silver Medium-Grade ones. Despite the "Corpse" moniker, the beads were sterile—pure, distilled essence of the creature, cleansed of rot but heavy with toxicity.
Luo Zhen tossed the bead into his mouth.
It was harder than ball bearings, but as soon as his jaws clamped down, the System's power engaged. The bead didn't shatter; it liquefied.
A shock of cold fire raced down his throat. In his stomach, the bead dissolved into two distinct rivers of power. One was pitch-black, a concentrated slurry of necrosis and toxin. The other was a pale, grayish-white energy that soaked into his muscles and bones.
Ding.
[You have refined a Low-Grade Corpse Bead.]
[You have absorbed extremely intense Corpse Poison.]
[Analysis: The absorbed Corpse Poison shares an attribute alignment with your 'Poison Arrow Art'. Do you wish to upgrade the skill?]
Luo Zhen ignored the prompt for the moment. One bead wasn't enough. He upended the bottles, throwing the remaining Low-Grade and Medium-Grade beads into his mouth in a steady rhythm. He chewed and swallowed, his body becoming a furnace for the toxic energy.
Less than thirty seconds later, the bottles were empty.
A massive volume of energy roiled inside him. The grey energy tempered his skin, making it tougher, while the black poison pooled in his dantian, waiting for direction.
[You have absorbed a massive quantity of concentrated Corpse Poison. Do you wish to upgrade 'Poison Arrow Art'?]
"Yes," Luo Zhen commanded, his voice raspy with the lingering heat of the toxins.
[Consuming Corpse Poison... Poison Arrow Art upgrade successful!]
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Fierce Poison Spear.]
The System paused, processing the surplus energy.
[Detection: Significant Corpse Poison reserves remain. Do you wish to continue upgrading 'Fierce Poison Spear'?]
"Do it," Luo Zhen said, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim cave. "Upgrade everything. Burn every drop of poison. Max it out."
[Fierce Poison Spear is upgrading...]
The silence stretched. A full minute passed—an eternity in System time—as the biological algorithms rewrote his capabilities.
Ding.
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained a new offensive skill: Venomous Rakshasa Seal.]
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained a new defensive skill: Dark Green Poison Fog.]
Luo Zhen exhaled a long breath, a faint green mist escaping his lips. "Rakshasa Seal and Poison Fog?"
He mentally pulled up his interface. The glowing text hovered in his vision.
Host: Luo Zhen
Species: Double-Headed Green Scaled Wyrm (Tier 2 Sacred Beast)
Affinities: Water, Fire, Ice, Lightning, Poison
Current State: Monster King Realm (Late Stage)
Skills: ... Venomous Rakshasa Seal, Dark Green Poison Fog...
"Just as I thought." Luo Zhen analyzed the data. "Absorbing the essence of the dead has solidified my control over the Poison attribute. I'm now effectively a five-elemental disaster: Water, Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Poison."
He closed the panel and stood up. Theory was useless without application.
He found a secluded ravine far from the prying eyes of the other disciples. The rock face here was granite, old and weathered.
"Let's see what you can do," Luo Zhen whispered.
He channeled his energy, activating the Venomous Rakshasa Seal.
There was no incantation, just a sudden, violent expulsion of power. A palm-sized seal formed of condensed, ink-green energy shot from his hand. It didn't fly like an arrow; it screamed through the air like a wraith, slamming into the cliff face fifty meters away.
BOOM.
It wasn't a clean impact. The stone didn't just shatter; it hissed.
The granite wall groaned as a hole the size of a carriage wheel was blasted into it. But the destruction didn't stop with the impact. The edges of the crater bubbled and frothed, the rock turning into a thick, grey sludge. The seal drilled deeper, melting its way ten meters into the mountain before the energy finally dissipated.
Luo Zhen stared at the smoking tunnel, genuinely impressed. "Terrifying corrosion. If that hits a cultivator, it won't just break bones. It will liquefy the flesh right off their frame."
He shook out his hand and shifted his focus to defense.
Dark Green Poison Fog.
He released the hold on his pores. Instantly, a billowing cloud of heavy, verdant gas erupted from his body. It expanded with frightening speed, swallowing everything within a hundred-meter radius.
The world turned green. Inside the cloud, the grass withered instantly. The surface of the rocks began to pit and scar as if washed in strong acid.
Luo Zhen stood at the epicenter, untouched, sensing every disturbance within the cloud.
"It functions similarly to my Thunder Realm Descent," he mused, waving a hand through the thick smog. "Both create a zone of control around me. But where the Thunder Realm is about paralyzed destruction, this... this is about area denial and detection."
He recalled the terror of the Corpse Cave. The danger wasn't just the monsters; it was also the inability to use spiritual senses. A cultivator without spiritual sense was blind.
"This fog solves that problem," Luo Zhen realized. "If an enemy tries to use stealth or invisibility to ambush me, they have to pass through this. The moment they touch the fog, their skin will burn. I won't need to see them; I'll hear them screaming."
Three days passed in a blur of cultivation and boredom.
The Elite Tasks remained elusive, snatched up by older disciples the second they appeared on the wall. Luo Zhen resigned himself to bad luck and focused on stabilizing his cultivation.
Then came the news. The annual recruitment drive was over. Five new Outer Sect disciples had been inducted—including the Deng brothers, the arrogant duo Luo Zhen had encountered during the trials.
Protocol dictated a "Welcome Party."
Luo Zhen was sitting in his cave when Gu Shi, his reliable if somewhat anxious informant, arrived with a grim expression.
"Senior Brother Luo," Gu Shi said, wringing his hands. "You know about the gathering at the mountainside square?"
"I heard," Luo Zhen said, polishing an apple on his sleeve. "A mixer for the new blood. We're expected to attend."
"It's not a mixer, Luo. It's a hazing."
Luo Zhen paused, raising an eyebrow. "Explain."
"It's an unwritten tradition of the Transformation Knife Sect. Hell, it's a tradition in every sect," Gu Shi explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They call it a 'Show of Strength.' The veteran disciples use the party to suppress the newcomers. They pick out the ones with pride or potential and break them down—insults, 'spars,' public humiliation. The goal is to make sure the fresh meat knows its place."
"And the Elders? They just watch?"
"They encourage it, silently. They don't want thorns. They want obedient tools. As long as nobody dies and no permanent crippling injuries occur, the Sect turns a blind eye."
Gu Shi stepped closer, his face serious. "You need to be careful. You have a reputation. When the provocations start—and they will start—you have to control your temper. Treat their words like wind. If you react, you give them the excuse they need to gang up on you."
Luo Zhen crunched into the apple, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.
"Why are you smiling?" Gu Shi asked, alarmed.
"I was just thinking," Luo Zhen said, chewing thoughtfully. "I'm worried I might accidentally kill one of them."
Gu Shi went pale. "Brother, please. The one rule they enforce is 'no killing.' If you kill a disciple, the Enforcers will hunt you down. The veterans know exactly how far to push without crossing that line. You need to do the same."
"Relax, Gu Shi. I'm very relaxed." Luo Zhen stood up, tossing the apple core into a corner. "Let's go. I wouldn't want to miss the festivities."
The mountainside square had been dressed up in the cheap trappings of celebration. Colorful lanterns strung between trees, tables laden with wine and fruit, and banners fluttering in the wind. Despite the decor, the atmosphere was tense.
Only a dozen or so older disciples were present, lounging in chairs with the predatory ease of sharks circling a reef.
"I thought there were nearly a hundred Outer Disciples," Luo Zhen noted as they arrived.
"Most don't care," Gu Shi whispered. "The only ones who come to the Welcome Party are the ones who enjoy bullying the rookies."
"Bullies," Luo Zhen chuckled, taking a seat and grabbing a handful of melon seeds. "I wonder who is going to be bullying whom today."
Moments later, the guests of honor arrived. Five fresh-faced disciples walked into the square. Leading the pack were Deng Zhou and Deng Star.
The moment Deng Zhou's eyes locked onto Luo Zhen, his face twisted. The memory of their previous encounters clearly still burned. He raised a fist, shaking it at Luo Zhen in a gesture that was half-threat, half-tantrum.
Luo Zhen cracked a melon seed between his teeth and spat the shell onto the ground.
"Jackass."
It wasn't shouted, but in the sudden quiet of the square, it carried perfectly.
Deng Zhou froze. The vein in his temple throbbed. He wanted to lunge, but he held back—the party hadn't officially started, and striking first without pretext was poor form.
Instead, he chose pettiness. As the group walked past Luo Zhen's table, Deng Zhou drifted close. With a sneer, he lashed out a foot, aiming to trip Luo Zhen or kick the chair out from under him. It was a cheap shot, meant to humiliate.
Luo Zhen didn't even look up. He simply shifted his weight, a subtle, fluid motion of his waist.
Deng Zhou's kick hit empty air.
The force of the missed blow, combined with his forward momentum, threw the so-called King-tier cultivator off balance. He stumbled violently, his arms windmilling as he barely managed to keep his face from hitting the dirt.
"Ha!" Luo Zhen laughed, tossing another seed into his mouth.
Around the square, the veteran disciples erupted into laughter. It was a cruel sound. They were there to see humiliation, and they didn't care who the victim was.
Deng Zhou's face turned the color of raw liver. He was a powerhouse capable of shattering boulders, yet here he was, tripping over his own feet like a toddler.
"You wait, Luo!" Deng Zhou hissed, his voice trembling with humiliation. "You useless trash! Everyone knows you only got in here because you bought a Token! You back-door cheat!"
"Giant Jackass," Luo Zhen deadpanned.
"Say one more word about my brother, and I'll cripple you!" Deng Star stepped forward, hand reaching for his weapon.
"Little Jackass," Luo Zhen replied, meeting the younger brother's gaze with bored eyes.
"You—!" Deng Star raised his hand to strike, but Deng Zhou caught his wrist.
"Stop," Deng Zhou commanded, though his own chest was heaving. "Not yet. The party is starting. We are all disciples now. We have years to destroy him."
He turned back to Luo Zhen, his eyes filled with venom. "Listen to me, Luo. I'm going to teach you a lesson. People who sneak in through the back door deserve to be beaten. They deserve to be broken."
Luo Zhen stopped chewing. The amusement faded from his face, replaced by a look of profound, terrifying sincerity.
"You know, I actually agree with you," Luo Zhen said softly. "Using connections to steal resources is unfair. I hate people who cheat the system, too."
He stood up, towering over the table, his presence suddenly suffocating.
"But if you want to overthrow an unfair world, Deng Zhou... you need to have the strength to actually do it."