In the end, Li Pan accepted Masako's deep, heartfelt sincerity, took her apology at face value, and granted her a few extra days.
Really, what else could he do? You don't bite the hand that feeds you, and you can't exactly choke someone who's already lying flat out with nothing to offer but their life. At that point, all you can do is let it slide.
Truth be told, most broke people still had a sense of pride and boundaries—hence why they stayed broke. It was the rich who could be truly shameless when it came to playing the deadbeat.
But credit where credit's due: Masako had handled it well. A true corporate-culture savant, she not only treated him to a luxurious seafood feast, she even… "assisted his cultivation" in every possible way, and sent him off with a little gift as a memento.
That "little gift" was a sword—an Akiyama family heirloom, supposedly bestowed by an Oda lord himself: the legendary Onikiri Yasutsuna, one of the Five Swords Under Heaven… or rather, a replica.
The real one was rusting away in the Oda treasury—no one was handing that out lightly. Still, the Oda clan believed swords were meant for killing, and loved gifting replica heirlooms to trusted subordinates: a sword for warriors and ninja, a tea bowl or kettle for bureaucrats and scientists. They even had televised ceremonies where old men wept while holding a bowl. Go figure.
The Akiyamas had been sword instructors, bodyguards, and military advisors to the Oda for generations, so a gifted blade was fitting. And what a blade—faithfully replicated at 80 cm, forged in military-grade alloy. Forget "cutting hair in the air" party tricks—this thing could slice a modern alloy trash can clean in two.
And modern trash cans? Recycled starship-grade plating. That's saying something.
So, full and satisfied, Li Pan swapped contact links with Masako and walked home with the sword on his shoulder.
There's an old saying: hold a sharp blade, and the urge to kill rises. And yeah, carrying that katana did make him itch to test it on a random passerby.
But he resisted—too bloody, too messy, and way too conspicuous in this day and age. Besides, a blade this sharp had to be worth at least a good chunk on the black market, easily enough to cover a loan payment—unless he nicked the edge.
Happy with the haul, he took the subway home. Between the free meal and what he figured was a boost to his Nine Yin Body Refinement, the trip had been well worth it. With Masako's… enthusiastic cooperation, even the lingering zombie qi in his body had been burned away. Keep this pace and he might just hit First Stage by month's end.
That thought led to another problem:
If the Nine Yin Manual could be cultivated with a partner, finding one was easy—you just needed money. But finding a corpse to train with… not so easy.
Maybe a close relative of a zombie would work?
He shot a text.
Broomhead: "You awake?"
K: "?"
Broomhead: "Come over."
K: "Again?!"
Broomhead: "Nah, just missed you."
K: "Get lost."
Well, guess K wasn't in the mood. Next time.
He keyed into his building. The apartment repairs were done—guess the property managers worked fast when the payment cleared.
But as he reached for the door, a familiar scent hit him—Masako's. Not perfume, not body odor, but a subtle blend of medicinal herbs. The kind of custom liniment martial artists used for conditioning, carefully masked but impossible to hide from a trained nose.
He froze, shifted the sword to guard—
Steel flashed. A blade came from behind the door in a head-splitting vertical slash. CLANG! Sparks burst as it bit into his scabbard and kept grinding down, splintering the lacquered wood and screeching along the katana's edge toward his neck.
In that flash, he saw her face—Akiyama Ayako, the ninja who'd robbed the warehouse.
"Motherf—!"
In open space she might've had the edge, but here at the narrow entryway, Li Pan's height and strength kept her cut locked against his katana. That left one hand free—
BANG!BOOM! "Ah!"
She'd triggered her neural accelerator in time to knee his gun arm aside, avoiding a direct hit. But she hadn't expected a Level-5 implosive round. The blast shredded her armor from waist to thigh, leaving mangled flesh and nerve endings screaming at 3,000× sensitivity. Her eyes rolled back in agony.
Li Pan slammed forward, pinning her to the shrapnel-riddled wall, reversing the katana's edge to her chest. He stomped, snapping her shin, jammed the gun barrel into her navel, and—
Sudden pain stabbed through his skull. HUDs flickered. His brand-new ballistic processor went dead.
A hacker. She wasn't alone.
Ayako roared like a wounded wolf, elbow braced on the katana's spine to keep it from cutting deeper, while a hidden blade shot from her left glove, slicing a bloody line across his face, nearly taking an eye.
"Shit!"
Teeth clenched, he wrenched aside, dragging the katana's edge over her shoulder, severing tendons, and smashed the butt of the Black Kite pistol at her face.
She ducked low, swiping for his throat—but the pistol discharged, twin blasts obliterating the wall.
Gunfire, explosions, roars filled the hall.
With error messages swarming his vision and dust raining down, Li Pan pressed in, katana raised. Ayako, even with an arm and leg gone, moved like a master—sliding back through the smoke, then lunging in a suicidal thrust for his carotid.
He didn't budge. She drove her blade clean through him—and he dropped the katana, wrapped her in a crushing bear hug, fingers digging into her shredded waist until blood sprayed. Her spine bent like a bow.
Then—another presence. Weight hit his back, twin blades stabbing into his shoulder joints to sap his strength.
Cold realization: not just one attacker.
No time to think. He charged backward into the apartment, smashing through the newly repaired balcony doors—
CRASH!
Ayako spewed blood as she was slammed over the railing. The ninja on his back slipped, catching the sill with one hand—only for Li Pan to stomp her fingers.
He gripped Ayako's throat, eased her blade from his gut, and consciously engaged Nine Yin techniques to clamp down bleeding.
She trembled under him, spine broken, staring up at the blood-soaked man above her—suit immaculate but for the gore, eyes black voids thanks to hacker interference. A demon out of hell.
Then his chest erupted. A hole where his heart should be—
She barely registered being yanked over the rail, carried away by another figure. Street-level gunshots echoed between the towers.
A sniper? From who?
Didn't matter. She was alive.
Ayako blacked out.
Li Pan's crisis wasn't over.
Flat on his back, coughing blood, he poked at the ragged hole in his chest.
"Son of a bitch… again…"
Same spot as yesterday's hit—only this time a regular round punched clean through.
Cerberus. Those mad dogs were using him for target practice.
He spat pink froth, yanked the kunai from his shoulder, and tossed it aside.
Still alive—credit to his Level-4 bio-frame or the Guardian's protection. Either way, he was spent. Sleep tugged at him.
No. Sleep meant death.
Call K. Call a cab. Stay awake… stay awake—
He snapped his eyes open to find himself sitting in an empty shrine.
Bare altar. Empty hall. Just a single tattered meditation cushion.
Looking down—different body. Not his, but not the serpent form either. A scrawny teenage boy in a ragged black gi, straw sandals… male, at least.
Projection? Or had he died and crossed over?
He stepped outside—
And froze.
In the void above hung something massive and grotesque: a colossal, blood-red lump of flesh, shaped vaguely like an incomplete embryo, hooked and malformed. Satellite-sized. Enough to trigger primal fear.
A low whimper broke his trance.
Following the sound, he found a hole in the wall and pulled out a trembling black puppy.
"Sorry… didn't mean to let you get hurt."
The Guardian—last time a proud old war dog, now reduced to a timid pup.
He scratched its head, carried it around the deserted shrine looking for food. Every room was bare, shelves empty. Only in the back did he find a cracked gourd, sloshing with some thick liquid.
He popped the lid. A medicinal tang blasted through his sinuses, down his throat, lighting him up harder than wasabi.
He shivered, eyed the pup. "This it. You want some?"
The dog covered its nose and shot him a side-eye.
"You lazy mutt—skipping meditation to steal my wine, and before it's ready, no less."
Li Pan turned to see a tall, thin man in a green robe, face hidden behind a shell-like mask with narrow eye slits, hair bound with a jade pin, a jade flute at his waist. One hand clasped behind his back, the other cradling the gourd in a swirl of breeze.
"Uh… sir, do I know you?" Li Pan asked, awkwardly copying a movie salute while holding the dog.
The masked man tilted his head, then bent close—blue light flaring from his eyes, washing over Li Pan like it pierced through lifetimes. The pup whimpered, burying itself in his arms.
Finally, the man spoke.
"You're pathetic—getting wrecked by a few trash mobs. Embarrassing. Still, you won't learn the real skills until Third Stage, so I'll toss you a bone."
He drew the jade flute and tapped Li Pan's body. The contact pulled his limbs along as if on strings, making him drop the dog.
"Hey! What the hell—"
"Shut up. I'm boosting you. Bend your knees, loosen your hands, straighten your back—think like a monkey."
Without moving his feet, the man worked the flute like a stick, prodding and guiding him like a sparring macaque.
Somehow, the motion stirred a warm current through Li Pan's meridians—a pattern wholly different from Nine Yin, yet oddly complementary. Layers of force bloomed like petals in his limbs.
Then—an invisible ripple surged from his fingertips, sweeping forward in a roaring wind-blade that shredded the doors and windows into splinters, sending the pup scrambling.
Holy hell… was this… superpower awakening?
The man sheathed the flute, hands behind his back.
"The Nine Yin Manual is righteous cultivation. Stop relying on dual-cultivation shortcuts. If you're short on true qi—kill ghosts."
"Kill… ghosts?"
The green-robed man stopped at the doorway, lightning in his gaze.
"That's right. Slay ghosts. Nothing under heaven is beyond the blade. Don't kill men—kill ghosts.
Slay the Heaven Ghost, and your path will be complete."
.
.
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⚠️ 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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