Dean's legs burned as he sprinted up the jagged slopes of Iron Claw Mountain, the morning mist clinging to his tattered robes. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he didn't dare stop—not with Vera's voice ringing in his head like a caffeinated cheerleader with a vendetta.
"Faster, cupcake!" Vera, Queen of Swagger, barked through the Ultimate Flex System. "You think you'll impress the sect looking like a soggy noodle? This training montage is your ticket to glory, so move!"
Dean groaned, dodging a low-hanging branch. Three days. He had three days to prove himself to the Iron Claw Sect, or Young Master Kai—the Spirit Tier prodigy with a glare that could curdle milk—would make him regret ever reincarnating. The memory of Kai's cold aura in the courtyard sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He wasn't just fighting for respect; he was fighting to protect Lian, the sect sister who'd looked at him like he wasn't trash, and maybe even Brock, the dim-witted disciple who'd started trailing him like a loyal puppy.
"Vera," Dean panted, "this quest—Impress the Sect in Three Days—what even counts as 'impressing'? Can't you be specific?"
Vera's laugh was sharp, like a whip crack. "Oh, darling, specifics are for losers. You need to dazzle the elders, stun the disciples, and make Kai choke on his own ego. Step one: get stronger. Step two: flex hard. I've got a mini-quest for you: Conquer the Thousand Steps in Style. Reach the peak, strike a pose, and inspire awe. Reward: 30 Flex Points and a Speed Buff. Fail, and I'll make you jog in circles while I sing opera."
Dean grimaced. "Please, no opera."
"Then hustle!" she snapped.
The Thousand Steps were a brutal staircase carved into the mountain, each step pulsing with faint spirit energy that tested a cultivator's stamina. Mortal Tier disciples like Dean rarely made it halfway. But with Vera's Starfall Kick still fresh in his memory—and Gao's defeat earning him a sliver of respect—Dean felt a spark of determination. He wasn't the "Trash Young Master" anymore. Or at least, he wouldn't be.
Halfway up, his legs screamed for mercy. The air thinned, and the steps seemed to hum, resisting his climb. A few disciples training nearby snickered, whispering, "Trash Young Master's at it again." Dean ignored them, focusing on the rhythm of his breath. Inhale. Exhale. Protect Lian. Prove them wrong.
"Vera," he muttered, "any chance of a boost?"
"You've got 50 Flex Points from Gao's beatdown," she purred. "Want to spend 20 for a Spirit Surge Buff? Ten minutes of enhanced stamina. But you'll owe me a fabulous pose at the top."
"Do it," Dean said, gritting his teeth.
Energy flooded his body, like chugging a cosmic energy drink. His steps quickened, the hum of the stairs fading as his Mortal Tier cultivation pulsed stronger. The snickering disciples fell silent, their eyes widening as Dean powered past them, his tattered robe flapping like a flag of defiance. By the time he reached the peak, the sun was high, bathing the summit in golden light. A small crowd of trainees had gathered, drawn by the commotion.
Vera's voice was smug. "Now, darling, pose. Make it epic."
Dean hesitated, his old self—Banana Boy—screaming that he'd look ridiculous. But the crowd's stares, a mix of shock and curiosity, pushed him forward. He planted one foot on a boulder, raised a fist skyward, and flashed a grin he hoped looked confident. "The Thousand Steps?" he called, voice carrying. "Just a warm-up for the Trash Young Master!"
The crowd erupted, some cheering, others murmuring in disbelief. Vera cackled. "Quest complete! 30 Flex Points, plus that Speed Buff for your swagger. You're at 60 points now—spend them in the Swagger Shop tonight, or I'll pick something garish."
Dean's chest heaved, but a thrill ran through him. For the first time since his humiliating death, he felt alive. He descended the steps, ignoring the stares, and found Lian waiting at the base, her green robes pristine despite the dust. Brock, a hulking disciple with a goofy grin, stood beside her, clapping like Dean had won a tournament.
"Dean, that was incredible!" Lian said, her eyes bright. "How did you climb so fast?"
"Uh, practice?" Dean lied, scratching his neck. Vera snorted in his head, but he ignored her. "Just… trying to keep up."
Brock thumped his chest. "Brother Dean, you're no trash! Train with me tomorrow—I'll show you my Iron Bear Fist!"
Lian frowned, glancing at the horizon. "Be careful, Dean. Kai's been watching you since the courtyard. He doesn't like surprises."
Dean's stomach twisted, but before he could reply, Vera chimed in. "She's not wrong, cupcake. Kai's got a stick up his robes, and you're his new target. Mini-quest: Master a New Technique by Tomorrow. Reward: 40 Flex Points and Thunderclap Swagger Strike. Fail, and I'll make you wear a sparkly sash."
Dean groaned inwardly. Another quest? But Lian's worried expression steeled him. He'd train, flex, whatever it took to keep her safe. "Thanks, Lian," he said. "I'll be ready."
That evening, in his cramped hut, Dean opened the Swagger Shop. Vera's voice guided him through a glowing interface, offering skills, items, and buffs. He spent 50 Flex Points on a Cultivation Boost, feeling his Mortal Tier energy pulse closer to a breakthrough. But as he lay down, exhaustion pulling at him, a shadow flickered outside his window.
A cold voice cut through the night. "Trash Young Master," it hissed, unmistakably Kai's. "Enjoy your little spotlight. It won't last." Footsteps faded, but a chilling pressure lingered, like a storm about to break.
Dean bolted upright, heart racing. Vera's tone turned deadly serious. "Oh, darling, that's no empty threat. Kai's planning something nasty. You've got two days left to impress the sect—or he'll crush you. Ready to flex for your life?"
Vote my book.