"Ah—!"
"Yaaah!"
Ratatat! Ratatat!
"Sergeant Komatsu! Sergeant Komatsu! Private First Class Yamada! PFC Yamada! Respond if you hear me! Respond!"
The infantryman crouched under a tree, trembling as distant gunfire erupted—then fell silent, swallowed by the forest along with the screams. His voice shook as he called out, but the channel stayed dead. It was as if the black woods were a beast, devouring his comrades without a sound.
"Sergeant! Ser—"
Suddenly, a severed head rolled to his feet like a bowling ball.
"AAAH!"
Ratatatat!
He emptied his magazine, shredding the head into pulp.
Then a black shadow dropped from above. A flash of blue steel. The long blade slid along his helmet's edge, slipped through the gap in his SBS exoskeleton, and punched straight into his chest. His lungs filled with blood before he could even gasp. He collapsed, twitching, and the shadow yanked his helmet, tore the blade free, and sliced his head clean off.
Li Pan split open the skull, ripped out the brain-jack socket, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned to the woman before him.
"Come on. Next target."
Honestly, this red-robed woman was damned useful. In the pitch-black forest, where even night vision was nearly useless, she was a beacon of crimson that he could track instantly. Every time she pointed, there was prey: a cadet soldier to ambush, flank, and decapitate.
Blade flashing blue, Li Pan stalked and cut them down. One slash, one kill. Heads flew, limbs fell, screams split the night.
These were just cadets—no system assistance, no cybernetic augmentations. Once, even before graduating, Li Pan could handle three at a time. Now, with his second transformation of Nine Yin Body Refinement, his stats crushed theirs completely. None survived more than a single strike.
Seventeen… eighteen kills. He was drenched in blood, drunk on the slaughter, when the red woman suddenly pressed a cold hand to his shoulder.
"What?"
He wiped his face with his sleeve—and froze. The "Hairband" on his wrist had tightened like steel wire, strands slicing into his flesh, embedding in bone.
The red woman leaned across his shoulder, ice spreading through his marrow. His right hand went numb, Onikiri slipping from his grip to the ground.
"Tch. Damn ghost…"
Barely a platoon killed, and the Hairband was already going out of control. Gritting his teeth, he retreated, found a thicket, and sat cross-legged. He forced his cultivation, trying to burn away the freezing aura.
He blinked—and the world changed.
Now he stood naked in a traditional bridal chamber. Before him, a mountain of spirit tablets. On the altar, two red candles as thick as human thighs burned with blinding brilliance. Yet the names on the tablets were unreadable.
On the bed sat the red-robed woman—no, the bride—draped in a crimson veil, embroidered shoes peeking beneath the hem. Her hands twisted nervously at her gown, like a timid bride on her wedding night.
Li Pan sucked in a breath and spun toward the door—but it wouldn't budge, sealed shut under invisible weight.
"Husband, aren't you going to lift my veil?"
The voice was cold, ancient, utterly at odds with her petite figure.
Li Pan slammed his shoulder into the door, eyes wide as the bride rose from the bed, gliding toward him.
"Wait! Wait! Calm down! I've got no house, no car, just debt! We're not a good match!"
"I don't mind."
"Well I mind! Look, how about this—I'll introduce you to some rich young master! Or help you reincarnate into a pretty C-rank body! Male, female, whatever you want—we can talk terms!"
"Heh."
She laughed, then lunged, her gown fluttering like a great red butterfly.
"Shit!"
Li Pan rolled aside, hurled a chair—shattered in her palm. She lunged again, claws like steel reaching for his shoulder. He countered with a grappling lock—but her strength was monstrous. She broke free effortlessly, seized his shoulder, and dragged him like a sack before the spirit tablets. Forcing him down, she made him kowtow three times. Then she conjured a wine dish, lifted her veil slightly, sipped, and shoved the cup to his mouth, forcing the lipstick-stained liquor down his throat.
"By honoring the ancestors and sharing nuptial wine, you are mine. Come, husband. The bridal chamber awaits."
"Like hell it does! This is murder!"
"Ten years to share a boat, a hundred to share a bed. Accept it. For this night, I'll grant you sixty years of cultivation."
She sat on him, pressing strange, chaotic energy into his body. His Nine Yin qi scattered, leaving him numb, wracked with agony. She demanded he lift the veil, taunted him, absorbed his energy while planting her own into him—an endless, torturous cycle.
Li Pan clenched his teeth, barely hanging on.
Then—sudden change.
Wind howled outside. The spirit tablets rattled. The double-happiness seal on the door tore away in a shriek of storm.
The bride froze, horrified. "Quick! Lift my veil!"
"Are you blind? I'm pinned here!" Li Pan thought furiously.
The doors burst open. Wind roared. The altar collapsed.
"AAAAH!"
The bride screamed, clawing at the air as an invisible hand pressed her veil tight. Her skull distorted, cracking with grotesque pops, blood spraying beneath the red silk. Bones snapped. Her body twisted, folded, crushed down into a ball—then a bloody palm-print—before being forced into Li Pan's abdomen.
A flood of searing qi surged into him, overwhelming, threatening to burst him apart. Veins bulged, blood seeped from pores, his head thundered.
He roared in agony as the energy was rammed through his meridians, refined by his Nine Yin, until—
Pop!
His old skin sloughed away, steaming on the ground.
Li Pan opened his eyes beneath the night sky, breath ragged.
He turned—and saw his shed husk sitting cross-legged nearby.
Nine Yin Body Refinement—third transformation complete.
.
.
.
⚠️ 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.
🔗 patreon.com/DrManhattanEN