“Jie Tong, y-you—” Yu Han stuttered as the other boy sprung forward, holding the blade at waist level and stabbing upwards.

The blade rose with a silver flash. Before it could pierce Yu Han’s jaw, he leapt back by sheer instinct. His fat body should not have had such agility, and Yu Han barely kept his balance as the sand shifted.

Jie Tong stabbed again from above. This time it hit, cutting into Yu Han’s nose. Yu Han screamed, shoving Jie Tong away like a sumo-wrestler.

The dagger left a gash, and blood trickled down to his lips. A metallic taste filled his mouth, but there was no pain.

The push sent Jie Tong stumbling back. He tutted.

“Didn’t know you were this strong,” he said.

“Why?” Yu Han asked. “We took you in. We gave you a life!”

Jie Tong spat out the herbs he had been chewing. He tossed the dagger up, then snatched it from mid-air.

“You didn’t know I was from the Bloody Grass Gang, did you?” Jie Tong smiled. It looked exceptional on his handsome face. “We have a deal with the head chef, you see.”

“What deal?”

“It’s simple. You disappear, we get part of the restaurant’s profits.”

Yu Han shivered. Dad, you’re wrong! His brother had saved a snake.

“Does Jie Hua know?” Yu Han asked. Jie Tong’s twin sister was a kind soul, or so she had seemed. Yu Han knelt, his knee giving out, supporting his body with both palms on the sandy shore.

Jie Tong frowned. Was that guilt? He threw the dagger up again, and this time when he snatched it, he was already charging at Yu Han.

“A dead man shouldn’t speak!”

Five metres. Three. The distance shrunk. Jie Tong swung the dagger, eyes wide. Yu Han dug his hands into the sand.

The dagger came down.

Yu Han flung the sand straight at Jie Tong’s face.

“Arrrghhh!” Jie Tong howled, clawing at his eyes.

Yu Han’s fist was waiting. It connected with Jie Tong’s jaw. His head snapped back, but before Yu Han could throw another hook, Jie Tong flailed the dagger blindly.

Can I beat him? I can’t even get close. Even if he did beat him, what would Yu Han do then? Kill him?

Could he?

“I’ll kill you!” Jie Tong snarled, hoisting the dagger in front of him with a shaky grip and rubbing his eye with his other hand.

Yu Han clambered to his feet and stepped back, carrying fistfuls of sand.

“Get back here!” With bloodshot eyes, Jie Tong attacked again. He took out another smaller dagger and held it in a reversed grip.

Yu Han hurled more sand.

“Arrrrgghhhh!” This time, Jie Tong flailed even more wildly.

Yu Han kept his distance. Any random strike from those blades could be deadly, and he wasn’t about to risk it.

He would not last in a battle of attrition either; he was already wheezing as though he had done a marathon.

And Jie Tong, even partially blinded now, would recover soon. His flailing looked random, but it blocked Yu Han’s advance in a skillful manner. The guy might have training in self-defence.

Think, Johan. What can you do?

The sound of the river crashed into his ears, deafening the sound of his beating heart.

Jie Tong could not swim. Johan could. As could Yu Han.

He acted decisively and dived into the water.

An obese body had many weaknesses, but floating wasn’t one of them. Yu Han paddled furiously. Water surged into his mouth, and blood streamed from the gash on his nose. All his wounds stung.

“Coward! Come back and fight like a man!” Jie Tong’s shouts rang from the shore.

A splash nearby—barely inches to Yu Han’s right. A dagger! Yu Han couldn’t afford to focus on that. He had to keep moving.

He swam. More splashes. Jie Tong was throwing anything he could get his hands on. Yu Han expelled as much air as he could from his lungs, then dived under.

Half a minute later, he rose for air, hoping that he had swum more than a couple of feet.

Thud!

A stone hit his shoulder. He bit back a cry and kept swimming for the opposite shore.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The river flowed through the city, and it wasn't the widest. It should have been less than a hundred metres, but it felt like miles.

Yu Han risked a look back. He could see Jie Tong on the shore. The other boy glared like an asura, then ran towards the exit of the cape.

No bridges connected the slums with the proper parts of the city on the other side. But Yu Han wasn’t the fastest swimmer. If Jie Tong ran fast enough, he might reach the other shore in time to catch him.

“Shit,” Yu Han cursed, doubling the strokes.

Soon, he was so tired he was doggy paddling. After what felt like hours, he reached the water hyacinths and reeds on the river bank. He grabbed a bunch and pulled himself ashore.

He was about to collapse. No way in hells could he stay awake. The gash on his nose had also started hurting. The adrenaline must have worn off. It dripped red, and Yu Han grew more light-headed as time passed.

He had lost too much blood. But why could he still move? The fatty Yu Han would have long since—

Pure Qi Assimilated!

Pure Qi: 60/110

Endurance: 5 -> 6

Body Origin: 4.80 -> 5.00

The sudden system-like status message jolted Yu Han to clarity. “This has to be a VRMMO.”

He could not pass out here. He didn’t want to test what would happen if he died, virtual reality or not. Either way, there was no log out button.

He took stock of his surroundings, coming ashore on muddy ground. With each step, bubbles rose like a swamp, accompanied by a shitty smell. This place was called South Street’s Muddy Shore if his memory served right.

To his left, there were a few houses, better than those in the slums, but no noble manors. A small path to the right led towards the city proper.

Some riverside stalls were there, markedly empty of customers. The stall owners gave Yu Han strange looks. Some disdainful, some concerned.

“Young man, are you okay?” an old shopkeeper asked.

“Why… aren’t there any customers?” Yu Han found it strange.

“Haven’t you heard? The folks are off to try their luck with the Lord Cultivator in the central square. They think if they beg hard enough, he might take some young’uns to their fancy sect places. Fools. That’s obviously only for the noble kids. Whole thing is bad for our business, I tell you. But do you need some—hey!”

Yu Han bolted.

That wiry guy with the City Lord had said there was a recruitment going on. And that every kid under twenty-one must be present.

Yu Han pressed his gigantic body into an alley, crawling under a broken fence and climbing out into another street with scraped shoulders, elbows, and knees.

There were so many people here. The colours and smells shocked him. This had to be another world. No game was this detailed.

As if in a trance, he stumbled forward, his legs heavy like lead, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his body. The gash on his nose itched, and there was a constant ache where the stone had hit. A playing kid crashed into him, knocking him over.

“Hey, watch it!” a lady yelled. She splashed Yu Han with a ladle. Probably keeping the dust down.

“He said he was in a gang,” Yu Han muttered under his breath as he pulled himself up. If he ran at full speed, which wasn’t quick, it would take fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the central square.

A horse-drawn wagon whooshed past, and the wheel almost crushed Yu Han’s feet.

“Get out of the way, chubby,” the wagoneer yelled.

Yu Han dodged the vehicle and pushed into the crowded street, weaving through people and animals and raising a chorus of shouts and curses.

Jie Tong wouldn’t know Yu Han’s plans. He would search near the shores and follow the clues from there. All he had to do was ask around for a bleeding fatty. And then he could catch up.

But cultivators, huh?

The NPCs here were assholes. If cultivators here were anything like the stuck-up pricks in those Xianxia stories, they would not appreciate the City Lord misinterpreting their intentions.

Yu Han had no place in this city. He’d offended a gang, and probably the city guards too. This was a gamble. If he had talent, he’d be recruited. And which mortal dares defy a cultivator? The hooded man had said that Yu Han had “awakened his spirit root.” If that meant what he thought it meant, he could flip all these shitters to hell.

Yu Han trudged from one street to another, through alleys and yards, and finally to the main artery of the city.

It was alive with activity, children running in the streets, vendors selling their wares, the clatter of carts on cobblestones.

Yu Han pushed through the throng. He couldn’t slow down, couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t—

A sharp pain shot through his side, and he doubled over, gasping. He clutched his face, which burned like a hot spike had been driven into it. But he kept running. He was so close!

He spotted a narrow alleyway between two buildings and veered into it. It was filled with refuse and discarded trash, the air thick with the stench of rotting food and urine. But it would lead directly to the square!

He stumbled over a mouldy log, nearly losing his footing. But when he tried to balance himself, his other foot slipped on something slick, and he barely managed to catch himself against a wall.

His hands came away wet and sticky. Blood?

No, it was just slime. He wiped his hands on his pants, shivering from more than just the cold.

He pressed on, feeling his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He could see the end of the alley up ahead, and less than a hundred feet from that would be the central square. He could already hear the crowd!

But as he reached it, a shadow moved, blocking his path. Yu Han skidded to a stop, his heart leaping into his throat.

A group of older boys lounged against the wall, each one bigger and tougher than the last. Were they gang members? Same ilk as Jie Tong?

One of them, a boy with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “What’s the rush, tubs?” He sneered. “You lost or something?”

Yu Han’s mind raced. He raised his hands, trying to look non-threatening. “I’m just passing through,” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The scarred boy laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the alley walls. “You’re already in trouble, tubs. You see, we got business here. You gotta pay a toll if you wanna see the Lord Cultivator.”

Yu Han’s heart sank. How long had it been since someone pried money away from his fingers? Too long to count. He took out the coin pouch the Head Chef gave him and tossed it over.

“We got a rich kid here!” The boy laughed. The rest of them cackled along. He opened the coin pouch, then stared at Yu Han for a long moment. Sweat dripped down Yu Han’s face. Or was it blood?

The boy shrugged. “Not enough.”

“Find me tonight, and I’ll give you the rest.”

“Now you’re talking.” The boy grinned, then moved aside. “Go ahead. But you owe us. Where do we find you?”

“Yu Family’s River Diner. I’m the son.”

The boy looked stunned, “You’re that—fuck. Take this back.” He forced the coin pouch into Yu Han’s hand.

“What?” Yu Han was confused. Did the guy have bipolar syndrome?

“Get out of here. I ain’t no ingrate.”

Relief washed over Yu Han, so strong it nearly brought him to his knees. He nodded. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy said, waving him off. “Now beat it before I change my mind.”

Yu Han didn’t need to be told twice. He ran past them, out of the alley and back into the main street.

The central square was up ahead, thousands of people gathered around the perimeter. Behind loomed the City God Temple. In the middle, there was a raised platform where a slender man in elaborate robes stood in front of a crystal ball, and around the platform were the city’s nobles, rich, and powerful, each with youths in tow.

He would make it. Jie Tong, that sucker, if Yu Han got out of here—

“Lookie here,” a voice boomed, and someone pushed Yu Han like a bull. He recognised the voice.

“To whom do we owe the pleasure?” Bushy Beard said, a mocking grin on his face.