2026-03-25 19:23:56Quinn sat in the corner of the food hall, chewing on a tofu slice that might’ve doubled as drywall. The silence hadn’t fully returned. There were still whispers, stares, snorts of laughter. One boy pretended to retch every time he looked Quinn’s way.
Someone threw a potato at him. It bounced off his shoulder with a wet thunk. He didn’t flinch. [SP Gained: +3] [Bonus: “Unprovoked Tuber Assault” – +2 SP] [New Title Unlocked: “Canteen Clown” – Social standing: -1, Crowd Control: +10% when singing terribly] Quinn sighed and popped the last bit of tofu into his mouth. “It tasted like betrayal.” [Or possibly actual mold.] [Chance of intestinal distress: 74%] He pushed the tray aside and leaned back against the cracked wall. The ache in his ribs had dulled to a background throb. His left eye still didn’t open all the way. But for the first time since arriving in this insane, pig-scented world, he didn’t feel completely powerless. “System,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk about that skill.” [Choose Your Reward:] A glowing translucent screen hovered in front of him, the options pulsing like tiny neon temptations. A. Spirit Pulse Strike An energy-infused punch that consumes SP. Hits harder if delivered while in pain. B. Endure Reversal Absorbs incoming damage and reflects a portion back at attacker. Requires direct hit. C. Grovel Dodge Instantly dodge attacks targeting below the waist. Automatically triggers yelp sound effect. Quinn stared at the third one. "...Why is that even an option?" [Data shows Host’s groin is a frequent target. Optimizing survivability.] “Remind me to never let you design combat strategies.” [Your sarcasm powers me.] He tapped the second option. B. Endure Reversal. It didn’t make him stronger. It didn’t let him fly or hurl fire. But Quinn had been absorbing hits his whole life, words, fists, fate’s middle finger. Now, finally, he could give something back. [Skill Acquired: Endure Reversal (Lv. 1)] When struck, store a portion of physical impact and convert it into backlash energy. Usable once every 6 hours. Requires standing your ground like a pissed-off tree. [Also unlocked: Passive Notification Fatigue – You are now 11% less annoyed by pop-ups.] “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or just Stockholm Syndrome,” Quinn muttered. He stood up. The dining hall had emptied out, save for a few stragglers and one old disciple picking tofu from his teeth with a dagger. Outside, the moon hung low over Wulan Sect’s crumbling rooftops. Faint glimmers of cultivation light arced in the distance, the disciples training, sparring, chasing power. Quinn shuffled past the training square and toward the servant dorms, each step triggering a protest from his legs. His body needed and wanted rest badly. The path was uneven, lined with cracked stones and broken promises. A lone lantern flickered near the pig pens, casting shaky shadows that made even bushes look judgmental. Quinn’s wooden clog, yes, still only one, clacked against the stone. The other foot was wrapped in a torn rice sack, tied with twine. Fashion in Wulan Sect was cutting-edge like that. He passed a training platform where a trio of inner disciples sparred with gleaming swords. They didn’t see him. Of course they didn’t. He was invisible here. A joke. A “fungus.” Just another cog in the sect’s great celestial meat grinder. But that was fine. Cogs could jam the whole damn machine if you wedged them in deep enough. The dorm creaked when he pushed the door open. The place was basically a stable with beds, slatted bunks stacked three high, reeking of sweat, dust, and despair. Blankets were optional. Privacy was fictional. Most of the others were asleep, snoring softly, some twitching mid-dream. One guy was mumbling about dumplings. Quinn limped to his assigned corner, a bottom bunk with missing slats and a stain he had long since decided not to investigate. He lay down. The mattress was straw wrapped in regret. His bones sank into the uneven lumps with a familiar grunt. [SP Gained: +4 (Chronic Discomfort)] He stared at the ceiling. He reached deep into his robes and pulled out the single treasured item from his starter pack of eternal disappointment, the paper fan with a hole in it. It was torn, stained, and probably cursed. But it was his. He tapped it gently against his chest. “…System,” he whispered. [Listening.] “I don’t get it. Why me?” [Be more specific.] “Why would some ancient cosmic AI choose me to inherit a suffering-powered growth system? I’m not a hero. I’m not smart. I’m not strong. Hell, I’m not even really tall.” There was a pause. [Precisely.] Quinn blinked. “...That’s the answer?” [You’re forgettable. Broken. Disposable. The world already threw you away. That makes you perfect.] “Gee. Thanks.” [You’re welcome.] He chuckled weakly. “You’re a terrible therapist.” [Emotional Wound: +2 SP] [Bonus: Existential Dread – x1.1 multiplier] There was a long silence between them. Outside, crickets chirped. Somewhere in the distance, a spirit boar farted in its sleep. Quinn stared at the wooden beam above him. “I used to think life owed me something,” he said quietly. “Like… if I just held on long enough, something good would happen. Karma. Destiny. All that crap.” [It didn’t.] “No. It didn’t.” Another silence. Then… [You’re here now.] He closed his eyes. Yeah. Yeah, he was. The next morning arrived with all the grace of a brick to the face. Literally. A rock, maybe a large potato, maybe both slammed into his forehead. “Rise and shine, mold-boy,” Lin Fei’s voice sneered from across the dorm. “Breakfast isn’t going to serve itself.” Quinn rubbed the fresh bump. “Not you again. You really like me, huh?” “Like you, what a joke!.” [Ding! SP Gained: +12 Subcategory: Petty Violence / Unjust Wake-Up Protocol] Quinn sat up slowly. His body protested, but a faint pulse stirred in his chest. He stood, straightened his tattered robe, and shuffled toward the kitchen shack. Breakfast duty was simple. Boil rice. Try not to burn your hands. Get screamed at by Elder Mei. Serve disciples who would treat you like disposable cutlery. Quinn did it with a plastered smile and an internal monologue of profanity. He dished out bowls with the grace of someone mentally elsewhere. Spirit rice. Sour r****h. Half a boiled egg for the important ones. Someone sneered at his hunched posture. Someone else asked if the smell of failure was included free. He took it all. [SP Gained: +14] [Status: Building Resentment. Highly Flammable.] When the line dwindled and the trays were empty, he sat on an overturned bucket outside the shack, fanning his face with the holy paper fan. His reflection wobbled in a puddle near his feet. Swollen eye. Bruised cheek. Dirty robes. And a spark of something... else. He’d survived his first few days. He’d been beaten, humiliated, sneezed on by a spiritual pig, mocked, starved, and force-fed tofu shaped like despair. “I’m really tough,” he said to no one in particular. [SP Gained: +2] [Reward: Smidge of Determination – You now taste 0.4% less like defeat.] He snorted. “Don’t let it go to your circuits, System.” [Too late. Running arrogance.] Quinn leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Just to rest for a moment. He planned to begin training the next day…
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Chapter Fourteen: The final trial (Part Three)
There were towering trees, their trunks blackened and cracked, stretched up into a sky the color of dying embers. Shafts of crimson light pierced the canopy, painting the undergrowth in a blood-red glow. The ground underfoot was uneven, strewn with roots that twisted like serpents. Faint motes of golden qi drifted lazily in the air, but the [System] chimed with a cold note: [Warning: Ambient spiritual energy is unstable. Absorption efficiency reduced by 35%.] The ripple passed through the ground though there was no ground to speak of and then one by one, the others appeared beside him. Meiling. Lin Fei. Behind Quinn, the last disciple stepped through. The gate vanished in a ripple of light, sealing them inside. “What the hell is this?” someone asked. No answer came from the elders. No answer came at all. A faint hum rose in their ears, almost like the echo of a thousand whispers overlapping. The first whisper became words in Quinn’s mind, etched into his thoughts: What do
Chapter Thirteen: The final trial (Part Two)
The panther vanished. Then it reappeared and its jaws were a hand’s breadth from his face. Quinn’s world slowed. He saw the curve of each tooth. The ripple of the muscle down its shoulder. The bead of its silver eye narrows into focus. Something deep in his chest shifted like a lock turning in a door. His vision got clearer immediately. He then moved with the surety of instinct awakened. The blade in his hand met the inside of the beast’s jaw, slicing upward through flesh and bone in one smooth arc. The beast howled in pain and staggered back, shaking its head violently. [Breakthrough Detected: Qi Foundation — Level Five Achieved] [All Attributes +10% | Spiritual Sense Expanded] Quinn felt the change as much as he saw it in the System’s overlay. His qi flowed smoother, and cleaner, like water freed from a blocked channel. The crushing pressure of the panther’s killing intent no longer felt like a mountain, it was more like a heavy storm he could still walk through. Elder
Chapter Twelve: The final trial (Part One)
“…no way he makes it past the first stage.” “Sixth place in the last trial, he has to be incredibly lucky, or skilled.” “I heard he barely survived an ambush. If that’s true, he’s finished.” He didn’t bother looking to see who said it. The voices all blurred together, just like they always had, to him they were just background noise, the kind you learned to live with until you were ready to turn it against them. A flicker of motion drew his attention to the far side of the ring. Xin Meiling stood there, hands clasped loosely behind her back, eyes half-lidded but alert. When she noticed him watching, she smiled faintly. What’s up with her, tch. Beside her, Ruo Han’s stance was relaxed, but his fingers rested lightly on his sword’s hilt, the way one might rest a hand on a sleeping predator’s back. The ground vibrated faintly as heavy footsteps approached. Elder Yan entered the arena, flanked by two Inner Sect disciples in dark silver robes. One carried a scroll, the other
Chapter Eleven: Preparations for the Final Trial
The murmurs of the crowd were still thick in the air when Elder Yan stepped forward, his long sleeves swaying with each deliberate stride. His gaze swept over the remaining disciples. “Enough,” he said, his voice carrying over the courtyard like the toll of a deep bell. The noise died instantly. Even the wind seemed to hesitate. “You have endured the Second Trial,” Elder Yan continued, each word precise. “But endurance alone does not make an inner disciple. Tomorrow will be the Final Trial, the one that will strip away pretenses and leave only truth. Strength, yes. Skill, certainly. But above all… adaptability.” His gaze lingered on each of them, pausing on Quinn just long enough to send an involuntary shiver down his spine. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Rest well tonight. At dawn, you will gather here. By tomorrow’s end, only twelve of you will earn the right to step through the Inner Gate. The rest will return back.” A ripple went through the group, it was excitemen
Chapter Ten: Passing the Second Trial
He snorted and moved on, slipping through mossy pathways and ignoring the ache building in his calves. His senses sharpened with each step, his spiritual threads tuned tighter thanks to last night’s cultivation. About an hour later, he stumbled upon a clearing. At its center sat a pond, glassy and still. Floating in the center was a glowing blue orb, Spirit Core, unmistakably real. A thin, near-invisible web of qi surrounded the pond. Traps layered over traps, most meant to slow or snare. But one would kill outright. Quinn dropped to his knees and studied the formation. The pattern reminded him of something from one of his system-granted books, Wind-Thread Entanglement, usually found in beast lairs. He could bypass it. “Okay,” he whispered, rolling his shoulders and focusing. “No pressure. [High risk. High reward. Proceed like you have brain cells.] He laughed under his breath and stepped forward, his foot landing just an inch off-center. The trap flared but he shif
Chapter Nine: Um why???
Quinn focused. That lingering thread of power from the Rotten Root activated in his veins, tightening his reaction time. He twisted past another swing and slammed his palm directly into Bao’s gut. The older disciple flinched. [Qi Interference: Successful. Muscle Lock triggered.] Bao stumbled just for a second. It was enough. Quinn sprang up, using both feet to launch a flying kick straight into the brute’s chest. With a sound like collapsing lumber, Bao staggered backward and over the platform’s edge. There was silence at first. Then cheers. “Winner: Quinn.” Elder Yan arched an eyebrow. [Bonus Objective Complete.] [Hidden Reward Unlocked: Elder Yan is… mildly curious.] Quinn stood there, chest heaving, arms shaking. Bao roared from where he landed, fury in his eyes. Quinn didn’t look at him. He just turned, bowed to the elder, and walked off the platform. His knees almost gave out the moment he was out of sight. [Would you like to activate Recovery Mode?
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