Dawn broke over the Blue Dragon Sect, painting the mist-shrouded peaks in hues of gold and blood orange.
Jin Ryeong sat cross-legged on the roof of his woodshed, finishing his morning cycle. The air around him shimmered slightly.
As he inhaled, the faint purple mist of the dawn Qi was drawn into his nostrils.
[System Notification]
[Level Up Processing...]
[Points Available: 5]
Jin Ryeong opened his eyes. Level 5. In the gaming world, this was the end of the "Tutorial." In the cultivation world, it was the difference between a mortal and a threat.
He pulled up his status screen.
Strength: 3 (Pathetic).
Agility: 11 (Above Average).
Constitution: 13 (Tier 4 Pill Effect).
Qi: 7 (Base).
"I have the tools," Jin Ryeong muttered.
"I have the poison. I have the pet. What I lack is the fuel."
His Thousand Venom Hand burned Qi rapidly. His Ghost Cysts required Qi to maintain the frequency. If he wanted to fight a prolonged battle, he needed a bigger tank.
"System. Allocate 3 points to Qi. 2 points to Agility."
[Processing...]
[Qi: 7 -> 10 (Threshold Met)]
[Agility: 11 -> 13]
A sudden vibration echoed in his dantian. The pool of energy in his gut expanded, doubling in density. It felt heavy, like liquid mercury.
[Milestone Reached: Qi Capacity 10.]
[Feature Unlocked: Qi Projection (Short Range).]
Effect: You can now project Qi up to 10 centimeters outside your body without a medium (needles/weapons).
Jin Ryeong extended his finger. He pushed. A faint, grey wisp of necrotic energy curled off his fingertip, dancing in the air like smoke. It wasn't much.
But it meant he could poison someone just by waving his hand near their drink, without touching it.
"Useful," he smiled.
He jumped down from the roof. It was time to check on his investment.
The Medicine Hall Courtyard
The courtyard was bustling. Junior disciples were sorting herbs, carrying water, and sweeping the stone floors. But today, the rhythm was broken.
A crowd had gathered near the drying racks. Laughter—cruel, braying laughter—echoed off the walls.
Jin Ryeong walked closer, his broom in hand, blending in. In the center of the circle stood Liu Bao.
The fat disciple looked different.
After three days of hellish training and "Adrenaline Smoothies," he had lost twenty pounds. He was still massive, but his skin wasn't flabby;
it was tight, red, and radiated heat. He stood there, clutching a basket of Spirit Herbs he had been tasked to deliver.
Blocking his path was Han, the Senior Assistant. Han was flanked by two lackeys. He looked angry. Since Jin Ryeong had humiliated him in the woodshed, Han had been looking for a target to vent his frustration.
He couldn't touch Jin Ryeong (who was now Baek's favorite), so he chose the next best thing: The sect's punching bag.
"Look at this," Han sneered, poking Liu Bao's chest.
" The pig is sweating. Did you actually run here, fatty?
Or is that just grease leaking out?"
The lackeys laughed.
"Maybe he ate the delivery!" one shouted.
Liu Bao kept his head down.
"Please, Senior Brother. I need to deliver these to the Alchemy Wing. Elder Baek is waiting."
"Elder Baek?" Han's eye twitched. Mentioning Baek reminded him of Jin Ryeong.
"You think name-dropping the Elder will save you?
You're trash, Liu.
Wealthy trash."
Han kicked the basket out of Liu Bao's hands. Crash. Rare Spirit Herbs scattered across the dirty ground.
Liu Bao froze. He looked at the ruined herbs. "No..." he whispered. "Those cost fifty silver..."
"Oops," Han grinned.
"Clumsy pig. Pick them up. With your mouth."
The crowd went silent. This was too far, even for Han. Liu Bao trembled. The old Liu Bao would have knelt. He would have cried. He would have eaten the dirt.
But Liu Bao's blood was currently laced with residue from the Adrenaline Surge Pill. And inside his meridians, the "Sponge Constitution" was vibrating.
Liu Bao looked up. His eyes weren't watery. They were hard. "No."
Han blinked. "What did you say?"
"I said no," Liu Bao said, his voice deeper than usual.
"You kicked them. You pick them up."
The silence in the courtyard was deafening.
A rabbit had just bared its teeth at a wolf.
Han's face turned purple.
"You dare? You think because you lost a chin, you're a man now?"
Han stepped forward, channeling Qi into his right hand.
[Technique: Iron Palm (Rank 2)]
His hand glowed with a faint metallic sheen. He aimed a slap directly at Liu Bao's face.
Jin Ryeong, watching from the edge of the crowd, reached into his sleeve. He fingered a silver needle. Should I intervene?
No. Let's see if the training stuck.
SLAP.
Han's palm connected with Liu Bao's cheek. It should have sent the fat disciple spinning. It should have broken his jaw.
THUD.
Liu Bao didn't move. His head turned slightly to the side with the impact, but his feet remained planted like tree roots. The flesh on his cheek rippled like water, absorbing the kinetic energy of the slap, dispersing it across his neck and shoulders.
Han's hand stung. He stared at Liu Bao, stunned. "What...?"
Liu Bao slowly turned his head back. There was a red mark on his cheek, but he wasn't crying. "Is that it?" Liu Bao asked.
Jin Ryeong smiled in the shadows. The Sponge Effect. Blunt force trauma is distributed across the adipose tissue. It's like punching a waterbed.
Han roared in embarrassment.
"You insolent trash!" He pulled back his fist. He wasn't slapping anymore. He was punching to kill.
[Technique: Rock-Crushing Fist]
Han aimed for Liu Bao's gut—the biggest target.
"Die!"
Han's fist slammed into Liu Bao's stomach.
WHAM.
It sounded like a hammer hitting a drum.
Liu Bao exhaled sharply—"Hah!"—tightening his core.
Underneath the layers of fat, the muscles Jin Ryeong had tortured with electricity and rocks locked together. The fat compressed, becoming dense as rubber. Han's fist sank two inches in, then stopped. The momentum died.
Liu Bao looked down at Han's fist buried in his belly.
"My turn."
Liu Bao didn't use a martial art. He didn't know any. He used the only move he had practiced a thousand times in the ravine. The Cauldron Throw.
He grabbed Han's wrist with one hand and Han's shoulder with the other. He twisted his hips. He roared.
"UP!"
Liu Bao lifted the 180-pound Senior Assistant into the air as if he were a sack of rice. Han's eyes widened.
"Wait—"
Liu Bao didn't wait. He spun once to build torque—just like with the cauldron—and slammed Han into the ground.
CRASH.
The stone pavers cracked. Han lay there, wheezing, the wind completely knocked out of him. He curled into a ball, clutching his back.
Liu Bao stood over him, panting. He looked at his own hands, terrified and amazed.
The crowd stared in shock. The "Pig" had just body-slammed the Senior Assistant.
"I..." Liu Bao stammered, looking around. "I didn't mean to..."
"You tripped," a voice cut through the silence.
Jin Ryeong stepped out of the crowd. He walked calmly to the center. He stood between Liu Bao and the fallen Han.
"Senior Brother Han tripped," Jin Ryeong announced loudly, addressing the crowd.
"He was teaching Junior Brother Liu about... balance.
And he slipped on the herbs."
Jin Ryeong looked down at Han. Han looked up, pain and hatred in his eyes. But then he saw Jin Ryeong's hand. Jin Ryeong was holding a scalpel, cleaning his fingernails with it. The sunlight glinted off the blade.
Han remembered the feeling of his staff rotting in his hands. He remembered the fear. If he admitted he was beaten by the fat kid, his reputation was dead. If he argued, the "Doctor" might finish the job.
Han gritted his teeth. He stood up shakily, dusting off his robes.
"Yes," Han rasped, glaring at Liu Bao. "I slipped. Clumsy of me."
Han limped away, shoving past his stunned lackeys.
"Move, idiots! Show's over!"
The crowd dispersed, whispering excitedly.
The legend of "The Pig's Rebellion" had begun.
Jin Ryeong turned to Liu Bao.
"Pick up the herbs," he said quietly.
Liu Bao scrambled to gather the scattered plants.
"Did you see that? Did you see? I threw him!"
"You relied on your face to tank a hit," Jin Ryeong criticized, though his tone was mild.
"Against a sword, you would be dead. But..."
Jin Ryeong patted Liu Bao's massive shoulder.
"...it was a good throw."
Liu Bao beamed. For the first time in his life, he stood tall.
"Come to the ravine tonight," Jin Ryeong whispered.
"We need to work on your grip. If you had held him tighter, you could have broken his collarbone upon impact."
Liu Bao's smile faltered slightly at the casual mention of breaking bones, but he nodded. "Yes, Doctor."
Jin Ryeong walked away. He had successfully tested The Shield (Liu Bao). The "Sponge Constitution" was better than he thought. It was a natural counter to blunt force.
Now, he just needed to survive the next ten days. Because in the Inner Sect, they didn't use fists. They used swords. And poison.
[System Notification]
[Saga Quest Progress: The Puppet's Strings.]
[Subject Liu Bao Confidence: High.]
[Reputation Gained: 'The Medicine Hall Weirdos'.]
Later that Evening - The Archives
Jin Ryeong used the jade token Mei had given him to enter the Inner Sect Library. He wasn't looking for attack skills.
He had the Venom Hand and the Needles. He was looking for something specific for Liu Bao. A manual that complemented a fat/heavy build.
He scanned the rows of "Low Tier" techniques—the ones ignored by the elites who favored speed and elegance.
[Diagnosis Eye: Scan Mode]
Flying Swallow Sword (Too fast).
Iron Fist (Too generic).
Gale Step (Useless for a tank).
His eyes stopped on a dusty, grey scroll on the bottom shelf. It looked water-damaged.
[Manual: The Toppling Mountain Art (Incomplete)]
Grade: Yellow (Low).
Description: A grappling technique designed for heavy laborers to move rocks. Focuses on center-of-gravity manipulation and "Rooting."
Flaw: Requires massive body weight to be effective. Users cannot jump or dash.
"Perfect," Jin Ryeong grinned.
It wasn't a martial art for heroes. It was a martial art for a boulder. He took the scroll.
As he turned to leave, he bumped into someone. A disciple in white robes. Jin Ryeong apologized and stepped back.
"Watch where you're going, servant."
Jin Ryeong looked up. It wasn't just a disciple. It was a young man with sharp features and a sword strapped to his back that hummed with faint lightning.
[System Activation: Diagnosis Eye]
[Target: Disciple Feng (Inner Sect Rank 3)]
[Affiliation: The Heavenly Sword Faction.]
[Status: Prodigy.]
Feng brushed off his sleeve where Jin Ryeong had touched him.
"Disgusting. Why do they let Outer Sect rats in here?"
Feng walked away, heading toward the "High Tier" section.
But Jin Ryeong noticed something. On Feng's neck, just above the collar. A faint, purple rash.
[Diagnosis Eye: Zoom]
[Analysis: Early Stage 'Purple Cloud Fever'.]
[Cause: Overdosing on Thunder-Attribute pills.]
Jin Ryeong's eyes narrowed. Rank 3 Prodigy. Drug addict.
He didn't say anything.
He just filed that information away.
In the Tournament, information was deadlier than a blade.
He clutched the Toppling Mountain Art and left.
The pieces were all falling into place.