Last night, thanks to that little incident with the skintight-suited vampire Kate, Li Pan had stayed at the hotel, enjoyed a bit of life. But tonight, it was time to begin his training.
Training in the Nine Yin Manual.
After all, times were dangerous—one stray bullet and you could be dead before you knew it.
The Formal Suit/Guardian might be his only reliable bulletproof vest right now, and he'd already used up a key to unlock it, so there was no way he'd let it go to waste.
Whether this manual worked or not, he'd give it a shot—maybe he could even re-establish a contract with the Guardian.
So, with the system's help, searching word by word, translating phrase by phrase, Li Pan pieced together the first version of the qigong training method from the Nine Yin Manual. Without overthinking, he started practicing.
Honestly, he didn't believe "training" was possible in this day and age, but as Huang Dahe had pointed out, the net was still full of kung fu movies, xianxia games, and all kinds of meditation, yoga, gymnastics, massage, and qigong masters.
So Li Pan treated it like yoga—if it improved his waist strength, that'd be a nice bonus.
Maybe it was placebo, but after two hours sitting on the sofa practicing, he actually felt a warm sensation in his lower abdomen. A trace of "qi," maybe?
Hmm… or not.
After half a day of this, his only result was more trips to the bathroom.
Clearly, training internal energy in a sci-fi world was absurd—probably just some weird dream he'd had.
He was about to wash up and sleep when he heard a muffled thump-thump-thump from the side of the sofa, near the window.
What was that? And… it sounded like it was coming from the outside courtyard.
The sound insulation in slum apartments was lousy, and he was used to hearing the neighbors' parties, fights, gunshots, and other noises—but the courtyard side rarely made strange sounds. That was why he slept with his head toward the window.
This was the forty-fifth floor, for crying out loud…
He flipped open the acid-rain-proof metal blinds and peeked outside.
Two figures stood there.
Yes—standing on the building's outer wall, at a near ninety-degree angle, completely defying gravity.
They were climbing—no, bouncing—upward, thumping along from the forty-second floor, one behind the other.
It took a while for his brain to catch up. When they got closer, he saw what they were.
Zombies.
Arms outstretched, nails long and sharp like ten steel blades jutting from their fingertips. Their clothes were rotted, barely clinging to them, exposing a dense coat of black fur beneath. From a distance, they looked like upright apes. Up close—thanks to the system's resolution tweak—he could make out their rotting, corpse-like faces. Skin and nose gone, flesh blackened and dried, black smoke pouring from their eye sockets and mouths, with wolf-like fangs jutting from the jawbone.
He rubbed his eyes.
Was he really awake? Two zombies climbing up to the forty-fifth floor?
Thump-thump!
They stared at him.
"Haah—!" A shrill scream—and they lunged, like human torpedoes!
"Holy sh—!"
Li Pan threw himself backward, nearly losing his head to the gale from their leap. He rolled off the sofa, yanked out the Black Kite, and fired—seven rounds, emptying the mag—straight into the face of the one bursting through the window. The shots knocked it back out into the open air.
But despite the hits, a chill spread through him.
Not a dream. Real.
And seriously—this was a hunting pistol with explosive rounds! Enough to blow an elephant's head apart—yet all he'd left were seven neat bullet marks on its forehead.
He grabbed his suit and bolted for the door—but as it opened, another zombie torpedo slammed in. One crossed-palm strike smashed into his chest.
Blood spewed from his mouth. It felt like getting hit by a truck—bones breaking, pain everywhere—and a freezing cold, like an icy wire threading from his lungs into every inch of his body, down to the marrow.
And yet—he was running.
Ignoring broken bones, internal bleeding, the Guardian suit hauled him forward on all fours like a dog, sprinting toward the stairwell.
"Elevator's too slow—stairs!"
The Guardian slid into a sharp turn, diving down the stairwell.
Li Pan swapped mags, turned, and fired a burst of incendiary rounds at the two zombies bursting through the corridor door. Flames roared up, turning them into human-shaped torches—but they kept coming, like Balrogs out of hell.
"Die already!"
Useless. Bullets did nothing. The $800 worth of ammo was gone. The hunting pistol couldn't penetrate their military-grade alloy-like hides. Fire couldn't burn through their fur.
And anyway—they were zombies. They were already dead!
"Wait—they can't keep leaping. They'll have to run!"
The thumping echoed behind him, but the Guardian had already plunged down more than ten floors, leaving them behind.
Still, blood was leaking from his nose and mouth—cold blood, with ice crystals forming in it.
Frostbite damage from a zombie hit? Great.
No more thinking—he was breaking apart inside. If he didn't revert to a save soon, he'd die.
"Tianxing—call K."
She picked up instantly.
K: "?"
He sent her a selfie.
K: "Where?"
"Mop-head": "Apartment. Back door. Fire exit."
K: "OK."
The Guardian crashed through the fire exit, and a golden light flared above.
K swept in—black trench coat, riding a black-and-gold hover bike—Kusanagi. The legendary Takamagahara plasma-engine, fully customized, sixth-tier motorcycle.
"Get on!"
"Oh… Kusanagi?"
Sleek, powerful, dangerous.
"Nice curves…" He meant the bike.
"K, your boyfriend's got taste," another voice said.
"Shut up, Selina!"
An onboard AI. Personality chip. The perfect cyber-waifu.
"Nice to meet you, Selina. I'm Li Pan."
"Hello, kid. Call me S."
K cut them off. "What hit you? Werewolf? Akaten Tengu? Oni? Maelstrom?"
He started to answer, then shut up as she pulled a rack of custom ammo from the bike's side compartment.
"How'd you get here so fast—and so prepared?"
She frowned. "What's that noise?"
Thump-thump—CRASH—Aaah!
The zombies burst from the fifth floor wall.
"What the hell?!"
K emptied her mag—sparks, no effect.
"Your cousins! Let's go—don't scratch the bike!"
Li Pan wrapped his arms around her waist. Selina accelerated, weaving through neon-lit streets as the zombies bounded after them like guided missiles.
"Take me to Monster Corp!"
"K, take him!"
K spun around on the bike, locking her legs around his waist, grabbing ammo and weapons.
"Auto-cruise engaged."
"Oh, you can tap into the traffic control system?"
"Yes, sweetie!"
"Don't flirt with my bike!"
She swapped to a carbine, braced it on his shoulder, and fired.
"They're tougher than alphas—what the hell are they?"
Li Pan coughed blood. "They're called 'jiangshi' in the East—like your vampires' distant cousins. Got any anti-vamp weapons?"
"Stop reading garbage online!"
Selina handed her a mag of glowing violet rounds.
"Ultraviolet Luminescent Protomolecule Cartridge!"
K grabbed the Black Kite, loaded, fired—direct hit. The zombie lit from within, burning in a cascade of violet light until it exploded into purple stardust, darkening the street as every sign shorted out.
Its partner roared in fury, the cry echoing across the district.
"Feed it another!" Li Pan cheered.
"Do you know how expensive these are?!"
She fired again—but missed as it dodged.
Smart zombie. And then—it attacked, black smoke swirling into a coiled, one-horned black dragon.
K fired—blew off a claw—but it kept coming, crushing cars in its path.
"Impossible! Even a thousand-year elder couldn't take that hit!"
Li Pan yelled, "This thing's about to ascend! Two shots, damn it!"
She yanked the glowing mag, transformed it into a high-tech sniper rifle, and braced it on his shoulder.
"Selina, EMP shield! Hold me tight!"
He hugged her.
"EMP mode on."
The ozone smell filled his nose—along with her scent—before a beam of violet fire blasted from the rifle, right into the dragon's head.
No roar, no time to resist—only purple flames consuming it entirely, scattering it into a rain of light.
Half the district went dark from the EMP.
"Nice shot!"
K just scowled—like she'd lost millions on the stock market—then grabbed his collar.
"I'm broke, I can't pay—mmph!"
And then—like in the movies—except she bit him for real, draining blood to heal him and keep her bike clean. Cold, soft, jelly-like lips, little nips of her fangs—strangely stimulating.
"Arrived at destination. Auto-cruise off."
"Mmph—mmph!"
The Guardian walked him off the bike with K still clinging koala-style to his waist.
Security guards stared, guns in hand, eyes burning with jealousy—until she lifted her head, blood on her lips, eyes gleaming like a predator.
Jealousy turned to respect.
"Thanks," he said.
She hopped off, licked her lips, and swung onto the bike.
"Don't die, little dessert."
And then she was gone, tail-light fading into the neon jungle.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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