My Cultivation System Runs on Karma

CHAPTER 4: The Burning Plaza

[Convert 5 Karma to Spiritual Energy?]

[Yes / No]

Yes.

The number dropped to zero. 

Instantly, a sensation unlike anything I had ever felt bloomed in the center of my chest. It wasn't the sharp, freezing chill of assassin's Qi. It was warm. Uncomfortably warm. It felt like swallowing a spoonful of hot honey. The energy trickled down into my dantian, a tiny, golden drop of pure vitality. 

It spread outward through my meridians. The throbbing in my relocated shoulder lessened. The burning in my throat eased. I wasn't healed—not by a long shot—but the bone-deep exhaustion retreated just a fraction. 

It was a pitiful amount of Qi, barely enough to strengthen a single punch, but it proved the system worked. Good deeds equaled power. 

A cruel, bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You want me to be a saint?" I whispered to the empty shrine. "Fine. I'll play your game."

But to get strong enough to survive Mu-Rak tomorrow morning, I needed more Karma. Fast. 

I forced myself up. The rain was beginning to let up, turning into a miserable, clinging mist. I stepped out of the shrine, my senses extending outward. Without my cultivation, my hearing was dull, but the night in the Beggar District was never truly quiet. 

I smelled it before I heard it. 

Smoke. Woodsmoke, mixed with the acrid stench of burning hair and cloth. 

I followed the scent, moving silently along the edges of the muddy streets. Two blocks down, the narrow alleys opened up into a small, muddy plaza surrounded by leaning shacks. 

Flames licked at the thatched roofs of three adjacent huts. The fire crackled loudly, casting long, dancing shadows across the mud. 

In the center of the plaza stood the Black Dog Gang. There were ten of them this time. 

The leader from earlier—the one whose subordinate I had crippled—was there, his crude dao resting on his shoulder. But he wasn't in charge anymore. Standing beside him was a mountain of a man, easily two heads taller than me, wielding a massive, iron-ringed broadsword. The boss. 

At their feet, kneeling in the mud, were half a dozen beggars. Old men, frail women, and shivering children. Among them was Kang So-Mi, the girl I had saved. She was clutching her grandfather, sobbing silently. 

"I told you," the mountain of a man bellowed, his voice like grinding stones. "You pay the tax, or you pay the price. One of your street rats broke my man's collarbone. You think the Black Dogs will just swallow that insult?"

He raised his heavy boot and kicked an old man in the ribs. The sickening thud echoed in the plaza. The old man collapsed, wheezing, unable to draw breath. 

"Burn the rest of the shacks," the boss ordered, spitting into the mud. "And take the girls. We'll recoup the medical fees at the brothel."

My fingers twitched. My blood ran cold, the familiar, comforting blanket of killing intent settling over my mind. Ten men. One was large, probably touched the very edge of Qi Condensation, relying entirely on brute strength. The rest were garbage. 

If I had my daggers, I could end this in twenty seconds. I would slit the big man's hamstrings first, letting him bleed out while I dismantled the rest. 

I glanced around the alley. Resting against a garbage pile was a discarded, rusted iron sword. The blade was chipped, the hilt wrapped in rotting leather, but it had an edge. 

I picked it up. The weight was familiar, comforting. 

The system window violently erupted in my vision, flashing a blinding, angry yellow. 

[Mass Casualty Event Detected]

[Opportunity for Major Virtue.]

[Warning: Host's killing intent is peaking. Lethal force against mortals will result in severe Karma penalties.]

I ignored it. My thumb brushed the chipped edge of the rusted blade. 

I stepped out of the shadows. 

The soft squelch of my boots in the mud drew their attention. Ten pairs of eyes snapped toward me. 

The leader from earlier went pale. He tugged on the boss’s sleeve. "Boss... that's him. That's the crazy beggar."

The mountain of a man turned, sizing me up. He looked at my soaked, tattered clothes, my bruised neck, and the pathetic, rusted sword in my hand. He let out a booming laugh. 

"This is the demon you were crying about?" The boss scoffed. "He looks like a stiff breeze would snap him in half. Kill him. Bring me his head."

Three thugs charged me, their weapons raised. 

I didn't blink. I let my instincts take over. I sidestepped the first man's wild swing, bringing the pommel of my rusted sword down hard on the base of his neck. He dropped like a stone. 

The second man thrust a spear at my chest. I batted the wooden shaft away with the flat of my blade, stepped into his guard, and drove my knee into his groin. As he folded in half, I grabbed his hair and slammed his face into my rising knee. Cartilage shattered. 

Two down. Two seconds. 

The plaza went dead silent. The remaining thugs hesitated, their bravado evaporating as they looked at their bleeding comrades. 

I walked forward, my eyes locked on the boss. The rusted sword hung loosely by my side. 

"You want my head?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Come take it."

The boss roared, gripping his massive broadsword with both hands. He charged like an enraged bull, the heavy iron rings on his blade clanging loudly. He swung horizontally, a sweeping strike meant to cut me in half. 

I ducked underneath the heavy steel. The wind from the blade ruffled my wet hair. 

I was inside his guard. His chest was wide open. 

My rusted sword lashed out, moving with the speed and precision of a striking viper. I aimed the chipped point directly at the soft hollow of his throat. A lethal, perfect strike. 

The blue window turned a glaring, blood-red. 

[Warning: Lethal Strike Imminent.]

[Karma Penalty: -50 if executed.]

[Current Balance: 0]

[Result: Existence Erasure in 10 minutes.]

My blade stopped half an inch from his flesh. My muscles screamed in protest, trembling violently as I fought the urge to push the steel forward. I was fighting myself harder than I was fighting him. 

With a frustrated roar, I twisted my wrist, dropping the rusted sword entirely. It splashed into the mud. I drove my bare palm into the center of his chest instead, using the tiny drop of Qi I had cultivated to push him back. 

He stumbled, coughing, but he wasn't dead. He wasn't even severely injured. 

The boss looked at the dropped sword, then at my empty hands. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. 

"You hesitate," he mocked, reaching into his thick leather belt. "Big mistake, hero." 

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a hidden, serrated dagger and drove it straight toward my stomach.