Dawn had not yet broken when the frantic knocking began.
Chang Le bolted upright in his narrow bed, heart hammering violently in his chest. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then memory flooded back in a chaotic rush—pain, fear, blood, the strange system, the pills.
And the trouble he'd gotten himself into.
The pounding came again, louder this time.
"Chang Le! Open up!"
His stomach dropped.
"They've come for me already…?"
He rolled off the bed and landed lightly on his feet, adrenaline sharpening every sense. Barefoot, he crept across the cold floor and pressed his ear to the wooden door.
Another shout followed, older and rougher.
"Chang Le, you alive in there? It's me—Village Chief Zhao!"
The words loosened the knot in his chest just a little.
Letting out a breath, Chang Le slid the wooden bolt aside and opened the door a cautious crack.
An elderly man stood outside, wrapped in a faded coat, his face weathered by years of wind and worry. The Village Chief looked him over from head to toe, eyes lingering on his pale face and thin frame.
"You look worse than usual," the old man muttered as he stepped inside.
The hut was barely more than a shack—one room, a rickety table, a broken chair, and a straw bed. Cold air seeped in through the cracks in the walls.
The chief sighed. "You know why I'm here."
Chang Le's fingers tightened.
"Tax collection," the old man continued. "It's that time again. You have until the day after tomorrow. No delays."
The words struck like a hammer.
Tax time.
The village demanded grain or its monetary equivalent every season. Fail to pay, and the consequences were absolute—forced labor, conscription, or worse.
Chang Le forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Chief… could I have a little more time? Just a few days. I—"
"How many 'few days' have you already asked for?" the old man snapped, patience finally cracking. "This isn't my decision. Rules are rules. If you can't pay, you'll be registered for labor duty."
He paused, then softened slightly.
"I've done what I can. The rest is on you."
With that, he turned and left, the door creaking shut behind him.
Silence flooded the hut.
Chang Le stood there, staring at the door as if it might come crashing back open.
Tax grain…
If he had that kind of money, he wouldn't have ended up selling fake miracle tonics in the first place. He wouldn't have been beaten half to death and left in a ditch.
His gaze drifted to the small embroidered pouch hidden beneath a loose floorboard. The coins inside were the last of what he had—pitiful, but still something.
He knelt, pried up the board, and stared at the pouch for a long moment.
Then he clenched his teeth.
"I've got the system now," he muttered to himself. "If I still live like this, I might as well be dead."
He buried the pouch deeper and replaced the board.
There was no retreat left.
The village boxed him in. The tax collectors were coming. The gang that had beaten him would return once they realized he hadn't fled. And somewhere inside him—hidden in a place that didn't quite feel real—were thousands of strange pills with absurd effects.
Every path forward was blocked.
Unless he gambled.
Chang Le straightened, eyes burning with resolve.
"I sell them," he said quietly. "Then I disappear."
Not tomorrow. Not slowly.
Today.
By midmorning, the loose market on the outskirts of town was already bustling.
Wandering traders, small-time warriors, mercenaries, and drifters filled the open square. Crude stalls lined the dirt road, selling weapons, herbs, trinkets, and occasionally outright scams.
Chang Le arrived carrying nothing but a folded mat and a wooden board.
He laid the mat down in a corner where foot traffic was thick and, with quick strokes, wrote his sign in bold black ink:
[DRAGON VITALITY PILL]
[One pill equals one hundred days of hard training!]
[Guaranteed results or full refund!]
[Below it, in smaller writing:]
[Must be taken on the spot. Maximum three pills per person.]
[Price: One energy stone per pill.]
He leaned back and waited.
The effect was immediate.
People slowed. Some laughed. Others stared in disbelief.
One energy stone for a pill claiming a hundred days of progress?
It was absurd.
A burly man with scarred arms squatted in front of the stall, eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Kid," he said, "you trying to die? That kind of claim will get your legs broken."
Chang Le didn't flinch. He clasped his hands and bowed slightly.
"Sir, if it's fake, you can smash my stall and beat me however you like. I won't resist."
The man snorted. "Big words."
Chang Le continued calmly, "You don't even have to trust me. Take one now. Right here. If it does nothing, I'll refund you double."
Murmurs spread through the small crowd gathering around them.
Someone whispered, "If he's lying, he's dead meat."
The burly man hesitated. One energy stone wasn't much. And the kid looked like he could be snapped in half.
He pulled a dull, glowing stone from his pouch and tossed it down.
"Fine. Let's see your miracle."
Chang Le handed him a pill—small, pale, unremarkable.
The man popped it into his mouth.
For a breath, nothing happened.
Then his body stiffened.
His eyes widened. Veins bulged along his arms as a rush of warmth surged through him. He staggered back, then burst into laughter.
"It's real!" he shouted. "It's actually real!"
Energy flooded his limbs, smooth and pure, like months of training condensed into seconds.
The crowd erupted.
"Give me one!"
"I'll take three!"
"I'll pay double!"
Hands shot forward, voices overlapping.
Chang Le raised his hands quickly. "One at a time! Everyone gets a turn! Pills must be taken on the spot—no exceptions!"
Energy stones clinked as they piled up in front of him.
Someone tried to buy in bulk.
"I'll take everything you have."
Chang Le shook his head firmly. "No. My family rule—medicine is meant to help, not hoard. Everyone gets a chance."
In truth, he couldn't afford to let anyone leave without taking the pill. The moment they did, his entire plan would collapse.
Pill after pill disappeared.
Faces flushed. Eyes shone. Excited shouts rang through the market.
"This is insane!"
"I feel lighter already!"
"Best deal I've ever had!"
Chang Le worked quickly, sweat trickling down his back, heart pounding louder with every exchange.
He didn't dare slow down.
He knew exactly what would happen once the effects wore off.
The pills didn't grant permanent strength.
They induced an intense, irresistible sleep.
A long one.
By the time people realized something was wrong, he needed to be far, far away.
At last, the pile of pills in his possession dwindled to nothing.
He glanced around—the crowd was buzzing, too distracted by their own excitement to notice him slipping away.
He rolled up the mat, shoved the remaining stones into his robe, and shouted loudly,
"That's it! All sold out! Come early tomorrow!"
Then he turned and ran.
He slipped through the throng like a shadow, darted down an alley, and didn't stop running until the market noise vanished behind him.
Only then did he slow, chest heaving, laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.
A heavy pouch bounced against his side.
"So many stones…" he gasped, half in disbelief.
He glanced back once, grinning wildly.
"Sleep well, everyone," he murmured. "A year-long nap is good for the body, right?"
And with that, Chang Le vanished from the town—richer than he'd ever been, and officially the most wanted man in the district.