My Cultivation System Runs on Karma

CHAPTER 2: Forced Mercy

I spun around. My hand solidified, but the aching cold remained in my bones as a warning. I bent down, my fingers wrapping around a sturdy, waterlogged bamboo branch discarded in the mud. It was heavier than a sword, terribly balanced, but it would have to do.

I walked toward the men. My footsteps were silent, rolling from heel to toe, splashing no water despite the puddles. 

"Let her go," I said. My voice was raspy, unused. 

The three men turned. The leader squinted at me through the rain, taking in my emaciated frame and the wet bamboo stick in my hand. He threw his head back and laughed, revealing a mouth full of rotting teeth.

"Look at this. A beggar playing hero," the leader sneered, shoving the crying girl to the ground. "You want to die early, trash?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He signaled to the thug on his left. The man rushed me, raising his wooden club for a crude, sweeping strike aimed at my temple.

He was slow. Pathetically slow. 

I didn't block. Blocking wasted energy. I simply tilted my head an inch to the right. The club whistled past my ear, the displaced air ruffling my damp hair. In the same breath, I stepped into his guard. My bamboo branch struck out like a viper. 

I aimed for the temple—a guaranteed fatal blow. 

[Choice Triggered: Kill or Spare]

[Warning: Killing will reduce Karma by 50]

[Recommended Action: Mercy]

My muscles seized. The system wasn't just warning me; it was actively resisting my killing intent. With a violent curse, I forcibly altered the trajectory of my strike. 

The bamboo cracked against the thug's collarbone instead of his skull. The bone snapped with a wet crunch. The man shrieked, dropping his club and collapsing into the mud, clutching his shoulder. 

"You little rat!" the second thug roared, charging at me. 

I sidestepped his clumsy charge, sweeping my leg out to catch his ankle. As he stumbled forward, losing his balance, I brought the butt of the bamboo stick down hard on the back of his knee. He went down hard, his face smashing into the cobblestones. Blood pooled beneath his broken nose.

Two down. Four seconds. 

The leader wasn't laughing anymore. The crude dao trembled slightly in his grip. He finally realized that the emaciated beggar in front of him moved with the precision of a demon. 

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, taking a half-step back.

"Someone who hates leaving a job unfinished," I muttered, my black eyes locking onto his. 

He swung the dao in a wide, desperate arc. I stepped inside the swing, letting the rusted steel pass inches from my chest. I jammed the end of the bamboo stick directly into his solar plexus. The breath left his lungs in a violent rush. As he doubled over, gasping for air, I raised the bamboo high above my head, perfectly aligned with the back of his neck. 

One strike. That was all it would take to sever the spinal cord. It was the correct tactical decision. If I let him live, he would come back. He would bring the rest of the gang. He would be a lingering threat.

My arms flexed, ready to bring the weapon down.

[Warning: Killing will reduce Karma]

[Host personality conflict detected]

[Existence Stability dropping if lethal force applied.]

My jaw clenched. My fingernails dug so hard into the bamboo that my palms bled. My entire body screamed at me to finish the kill, to silence the enemy permanently. It was forty years of survival instinct fighting against a glowing blue screen. 

With a roar of pure, unfiltered frustration, I threw the bamboo stick to the side. It clattered uselessly against a wooden wall. 

"Get out of my sight," I snarled, my voice vibrating with a suppressed bloodlust that made the air around us feel heavy. "Before I change my mind."

The leader fell backward into the mud, scrambling away like a beaten dog. He didn't look back as he dragged his two groaning subordinates to their feet, limping away into the rainy mist. 

I stood there, breathing heavily. Not from physical exertion, but from the mental toll of sparing a life. It felt disgusting. It felt like failure. 

The system chimed happily.

[Good Deed Detected]

[Karma +5] — Protected the innocent.

[Inner Conflict Resolved]

[Minor Merit Acquired]

[Existence Stability: 85%]

I stared at the notification, my stomach churning. Five points. I needed ten thousand to clear my ledger. At this rate, I would have to play the saint of the slums for a century just to survive.

A small tug on my sleeve broke my dark thoughts. 

Kang So-Mi was looking up at me, her large eyes wide with awe and lingering terror. Her face was smudged with dirt and tears. Slowly, she reached into her ragged coat and pulled out a damp, slightly squashed steamed bun. She held it out to me with trembling hands. 

"T-Thank you, Daxia," she whispered, calling me a great hero. 

I stared at the bun. I hated this. I hated her gratitude. I hated the system. But the hollow ache in my stomach was louder than my pride. I reached out and took the bun.

"Go home, kid," I muttered, turning away. 

I took one bite of the cold, flavorless dough. 

Behind me, the sound of splashing water stopped abruptly. I didn't even have time to turn around before the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The heavy, unmistakable killing intent of a trained martial artist washed over the alley.

"So the rumors are true," a cold voice echoed from the shadows of the rooftops above. "The stray dog of the Shadow Hall has gone soft."

I dropped the bun. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The sharp scent of iron and nightshade gave him away. 

Jang Mu-Rak. 

He hadn't found me after years in my past life. How was he here, on my first day back? 

Before I could react, a steel wire wrapped tight around my throat, biting into the flesh, and violently jerked me backward into the darkness.