"Boss, we dragged a beggar out of the river. He's lying unconscious in our territory," a scar-faced youth reported, standing stiffly before the burly figure lounging in his chair with a woman draped across his arm.
The man in charge—thick-necked, broad-shouldered, his grin half cruel and half careless—snorted and waved him off.
"Why bother me with this?" He pulled the woman closer, lips grazing her cheek as she twisted away with a playful laugh.
"Can't you see I'm busy?"
The scar-faced youth, Xu Feng, didn't flinch.
"Boss, the beggar's just a child. I was thinking… maybe we take him in."
"Let him join our gang."
That finally earned him a glance. Wang Da, the gang's leader, leaned back, stroking his stubbled chin as if weighing something far beneath his notice.
After a beat, he shrugged. "Do as you see fit."
His attention slid back to the woman, laughter rumbling low in his chest as he pressed his advance.
Xu Feng bowed his head slightly and slipped out, closing the creaking door behind him.
The stench of smoke and damp earth clung to the narrow path as he crossed to another hut, its thatched roof sagging from the weight of rain.
Inside, on a straw-stuffed bed, a boy lay half-dead to the world. His skin was pale, his hands raw with scars, leaves tangled in his matted hair.
His clothes were drenched, as though the river itself had tried to claim him.
Xu Feng crouched down, tapped the boy's cheek.
"Hey. Can you hear me?"
"Mm!" A faint sound escaped.
Zhao Yan's eyelids trembled, then lifted just enough for him to catch a blur of shadows and the stranger's scarred face hovering above.
His lips cracked open. "Where… am I?"
"Who are you?"
In his reckless joy, Zhao Yan had pushed his Phantom Step beyond his limits, misjudging the dark terrain. One slip sent him plummeting into a ravine, battered and broken until unconsciousness claimed him.
Now, blinking through the haze, his gaze flickered sideways—and there it was again, faint and spectral, the system window hovering at the edge of his vision.
Zhao Yan
Age: 15
Cultivation: None (+)
Techniques: Phantom Step Technique - Beginner (0/5) (+)
Revulsion Points: 800
Pity Points: 3
Inventory : 20 Gold, 200 Silver
Now—he remembered. Right before the fall, when excitement had carried him too far, he had spent ten Pity Points to unlock the inventory.
That was his last act before darkness swallowed him whole.
"System, can I unlock more sections with points?" Zhao Yan asked inwardly, his voice trembling inside the silence of his mind.
At once, the hovering panel shivered, light pulsing across its surface.
New symbols flickered into being, shifting and reshaping before his eyes as fresh options unfolded on the screen.
Zhao Yan
Age: 15
Cultivation: None (+)
Techniques: Phantom Step Technique - Beginner (0/5) (+)
Revulsion Points: 800
Pity Points: 3
Inventory : 20 Gold, 200 Silver
Aptitude: None - Locked (50 Pity Points)
Constitution: None - Locked (1M Pity Points)
Divine Powers: None - Locked (10M Pity Points)
Faith Points: None - Locked (100B Pity Points)
Dao: None - Locked (1B Faith Points)
Zhao Yan's eyes widened as he stared at the five locked sections on the glowing panel, his mind reeling.
"Hey, what are you staring at?" Xu Feng's voice cut through, sharp and impatient.
Zhao Yan turned toward him, still dazed, and asked, "Who are you?"
"Where am I?"
He tried to rise, but Xu Feng pressed a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.
"Calm down."
"You were found unconscious, washed up by the river," Xu Feng explained.
The words struck Zhao Yan, dragging back the memory of tumbling into the ravine, the crash into darkness, and his body carried helplessly downstream.
He clenched his temples, forcing the ache from his head, and whispered, "Thank you for saving me."
"But I need to reach Florence City… please, let me go." He brushed aside Xu Feng's grip and pushed himself upright.
Xu Feng's eyes narrowed, his tone turning cold.
"You beggar."
"We dragged you out of the river, saved your worthless life, and instead of gratitude, you talk about running off?" He folded his arms, voice swelling with self-righteous arrogance.
"Fine. You can leave—after you pay the price."
Zhao Yan's eyes sharpened as they swept over Xu Feng's ragged shirt and fur-lined pants, realization striking him like lightning.
"You… you're the bandits!" he exclaimed.
Xu Feng's chest swelled with pride as he puffed himself up.
"Yeah! We are the Fire Stone Bandits," he declared, as if wearing the title like armor.
Without a moment's hesitation, Zhao Yan tapped the (+) sign beside his cultivation.
Boom.
A heavy, radiant energy erupted around him, illuminating the dim thatched hut.
Xu Feng's bravado shattered instantly; he dropped to his knees, eyes wide with terror.
"A cultivator!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the mountains.
The cry sent a ripple through the forest.
Bandits hidden among the trees perked their ears, alert and eager, and began converging on the hut where Zhao Yan stood.
Yet, amidst the surge of power, Zhao Yan felt a pang of frustration.
The Qi coursing through his body was immense, yet it seeped away slowly, like sand through his fingers.
He was strong, yet painfully weak.
"What's happening?" he murmured, eyes fixed on the glowing status window, a mix of confusion and concern tightening his chest.
Zhao Yan
Age: 15
Cultivation: Qi Condensation (1st layer) - Temporary (0/20) (+)
Techniques: Phantom Step Technique - Beginner (0/5) (+)
Revulsion Points: 790
Pity Points: 3
Zhao Yan's eyes flicked to his status window—Qi Condensation, First Layer. But the word temporary glowed beside it.
"Temporary? Why is my cultivation temporary?" he muttered, a lump forming in his throat.
The thought of losing this fleeting power made him want to cry.
Yet, the clatter of weapons outside reminded him of the danger. He quickly calculated how long he had before it vanished.
'I need to do something,' he realized.
With a commanding voice, he called out, "Benefactors! I am truly grateful for your help in rescuing me."
"I wish to speak with your boss in private." Without waiting for a response, he strode past the kneeling Xu Feng and stepped into the open, exuding calm authority.
His gaze swept across nearly a hundred men, armed to the teeth. Spears and swords, butcher knives and staffs, gauntlets glinting in the sunlight—each one a potential threat.
"Who is the leader of this mountain?" Zhao Yan demanded, his voice carrying over the tense silence.
From the back of the group, a tall, robust man emerged, the weight of gauntlets on his hands emphasizing his strength.
He bowed deeply and said, "Wang Da greets the senior."
One by one, the rest of the bandits mirrored the gesture, their eyes fixed on Zhao Yan with a mix of caution and respect.
Zhao Yan's voice cut through the tense air, calm yet carrying weight.
"Since you saved me, I won't be heartless to you."
"Tell me, do you wish to walk the path of cultivation?"