Ten days passed in a blur of agony and granite.
In the Western Waste Chute, the rocks were stained with Liu Bao's blood and sweat.
He had stopped crying on Day 4.
He had stopped vomiting on Day 7.
By Day 10, he had stopped speaking entirely, communicating only in grunts and nods.
He wasn't faster. He wasn't leaner. In fact, he looked heavier. Under Jin Ryeong's guidance, and fueled by the dangerous "Adrenaline/Poison" cocktails, Liu Bao's "Sponge Constitution" had compacted. His fat was no longer soft blubber; it was high-density ballistic gel.
Jin Ryeong stood on the edge of the ravine, watching Liu Bao practice the core movement of the Toppling Mountain Art.
Liu Bao stood before a massive oak tree. He didn't punch it. He stepped in, slammed his shoulder against the trunk, wrapped his arms around it, and twisted.
GROAN.
The tree didn't snap. It was uprooted. The soil around the base heaved as the massive root system was dragged inch by inch from the earth.
"Stop," Jin Ryeong commanded.
Liu Bao let go. He was panting, steam rising from his red skin. "Did I... do it?"
"You moved it two inches," Jin Ryeong said coldly.
"Enough to destabilize a man. Not enough to topple a master."
Jin Ryeong tossed him a towel. "But for the Outer Sect trash? It will suffice."
Jin Ryeong checked his internal clock.
[Tournament Countdown: 0 Days.]
"Clean yourself up, Liu Bao. Today, you stop fighting trees. Today, we go hunting."
The Grand Square of the Blue Dragon Sect
The atmosphere was electric. It smelled of cheap meat skewers, unwashed bodies, and palpable anxiety. Thousands of Outer Disciples gathered around the massive stone platforms raised in the center of the square.
This was the Outer Sect Tournament. It happened once a year. It was the only chance for the "Trash" (Outer Disciples) to be promoted to "Human" (Inner Disciples). There were 2,000 participants. Only 10 would be promoted.
Jin Ryeong stood in the spectator area, wearing his grey servant robes. He blended perfectly with the background noise. His eyes, however, were dissecting the crowd.
[System Scan: Area]
Average Level: Qi Condensation 3-5.
Threats: None detected in the general pool.
Hidden Variables: 3 Inner Sect Elders observing from the VIP tower.
Jin Ryeong looked up at the tower.
He saw Elder Tang (The Disciplinarian) sipping tea. He saw Elder Baek looking nervous. And he saw Mei, standing with her squad, looking down at the commoners.
Mei's tournament (The Inner Sect Bracket) would start tomorrow. Today was for the rabble.
"Group 7! Enter the ring!" the referee bellowed, his voice amplified by Qi.
Jin Ryeong looked at the roster board. Group 7.
That was Liu Bao's group.
The format for the preliminaries was brutal: Battle Royale. Fifty disciples enter the ring.
The last five standing advance to the duels. It was designed to weed out the weak quickly. It favored alliances and cruelty.
Liu Bao stepped onto the platform. He stood out immediately. Amidst the lean, hungry-looking disciples holding swords and spears, he was a mountain of flesh in a stretched robe. He carried no weapon.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Look! The pig is lost!" "Is he the prize? Do we get to eat him if we win?"
Liu Bao didn't react. He walked to the center of the ring and stood there. He planted his feet wide. He lowered his center of gravity.
[Stance: The Mountain Root.]
In the same group, Jin Ryeong spotted a familiar face.
Chen, The Lackey of his Senior disciple Han!
He was holding a jagged dao (saber). He saw Liu Bao and grinned.
"Well, well," Chen shouted, pointing his blade.
"If it isn't the servant's pet pig. Boys!
We have a punching bag to warm up on!"
Three other disciples, sensing an easy target, flanked Chen.
Alliance formed. Target acquired.
"Begin!" the referee shouted.
Chaos erupted. Swords clashed. Fireballs (weak ones) flew across the stage. Screams of the defeated filled the air.
But in the center, the four bullies charged Liu Bao.
"Break his legs!" Chen roared, leading the charge. He slashed his saber at Liu Bao's thigh.
Jin Ryeong watched from the crowd, his face impassive. Don't dodge, Liu. Tank it.
Liu Bao didn't move.
THWACK.
The flat of the blade (Chen twisted it at the last second to humiliate him) slapped Liu Bao's thigh. It sounded like hitting a wet sandbag. The force didn't cut. It dispersed.
Liu Bao's fat rippled, absorbing the shockwave. He didn't even blink.
Chen froze. "What?"
"My turn," Liu Bao grunted.
Liu Bao stepped into the guard. He didn't punch. He opened his arms wide.
[Toppling Mountain Art: The Bear Hug.]
He grabbed Chen. He didn't grab the robe. He grabbed the man. His massive arms wrapped around Chen's torso, pinning the disciple's arms to his sides.
"Let go!" Chen screamed, panic setting in. "You smell like sweat and poison! Get off!"
Chen's allies attacked. Kick. Punch. Stab. They rained blows on Liu Bao's back.
[System Diagnosis: Liu Bao]
Damage Taken: 45.
Damage Mitigated (Sponge): 40.
Actual Damage: 5 (Bruising).
Liu Bao ignored them. He squeezed Chen.
He squeezed with the strength of a man who had uprooted oak trees.
CRACK.
Chen's ribs groaned. The air left his lungs in a wheeze. "I... yield..." Chen gasped.
"Too late," Liu Bao whispered.
Liu Bao lifted Chen off the ground. He used Chen as a weapon. He spun.
[Technique: Human Flail.]
He swung Chen's body into the other three attackers.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
The three bullies were knocked back by the human projectile. Liu Bao released Chen. He threw him. Not at the ground. At the edge of the ring.
Chen flew ten feet through the air, flailing wildly. He crashed into the barrier and tumbled out of bounds.
[Elimination!]
The crowd went silent. The laughter died instantly.
The three remaining attackers looked at Liu Bao. They looked at Chen, who was vomiting on the grass outside the ring. They looked at each other. And they ran.
They ran toward the other side of the ring to fight someone else.
Liu Bao stood alone in his circle of empty space. He looked up at the VIP tower.
He wasn't looking at the Elders. He was looking for a grey servant in the crowd.
Jin Ryeong nodded once.
Good.
The Battle Royale continued for ten minutes. Disciples slashed and burned each other. Whenever the fighting drifted near Liu Bao, he simply stepped forward and stomped the ground. BOOM. The vibration made the lighter disciples stumble. They learned quickly: Avoid the Mountain.
"Time!" the referee shouted. "Stop!"
Dust settled over the arena. Seven disciples remained standing. Wait. Seven? The limit was five.
The referee frowned. "Too many. Two more must fall."
The survivors looked at each other. There were two distinct groups. Group A: Three swordsmen who had formed an alliance.
Group B: Three spearmen who had held the corner. And Liu Bao. Alone.
Both groups looked at the fat man. It was simple math. 6 vs 1.
"Get the fat one!" the leader of the swordsmen shouted.
All six disciples turned toward Liu Bao.
They spread out, surrounding him.
Swords and spears pointed at his throat.
Jin Ryeong's eyes narrowed. This is trouble.
He can tank blunt force, but six blades at once will bleed him out.
Liu Bao looked nervous. He backed up, but hit the edge of the ring.
"Doctor..." he whispered.
Jin Ryeong reached into his sleeve. He couldn't use needles.
Too obvious. He couldn't use the beetle. Too loud.
He looked at his hand.
Qi Projection (10cm).
Useless at this distance.
No. He didn't need to attack the enemies. He needed to buff the ally.
Jin Ryeong picked up a small pebble from the ground.
He coated it in a concentrated dose of Adrenaline/Rage Toxin. He flicked his wrist.
[Skill: Qi Needle (Improvised projectile)]
The pebble flew through the air, invisible in the chaos. It struck Liu Bao on the back of the neck. It stung like a hornet.
Liu Bao slapped his neck. "Ouch!" The toxin seeped into his bloodstream instantly.
[System: Berserk Triggered.]
Liu Bao's eyes dilated. The fear vanished, replaced by a red haze.
The "Sponge" contracted. He didn't wait for them to attack. He roared.
"RAAAAGH!"
He charged the spearmen. They thrust their spears. Liu Bao caught the spear tips. His hands bled, but he didn't let go. He yanked the spears. Three disciples were pulled off balance, flying toward him.
[Toppling Mountain Art: The Avalanche.]
Liu Bao simply fell forward. All 300 pounds of him slammed into the three off-balance spearmen.
CRUNCH.
He flattened them. He rolled over them, crushing the air out of their lungs, and kept rolling toward the swordsmen.
The swordsmen saw a human boulder rolling at them with the momentum of a runaway cart. They panicked. They scattered. One tripped.
Liu Bao rolled over him. The other two jumped out of the ring voluntarily to avoid being crushed.
"Winner!" the referee shouted, stepping in before Liu Bao could crush the fallen spearmen into paste.
Liu Bao stopped rolling. He lay on his back, panting, staring at the sky. The red haze faded. "Did I... did I win?"
The crowd erupted. Not in laughter this time. In roaring cheers.
They loved an underdog. They loved violence.
"THE MOUNTAIN! THE MOUNTAIN!"
they chanted.
Jin Ryeong watched coldly. He saw Elder Tang in the tower lean forward, looking at Liu Bao with interest. He saw Mei looking relieved (perhaps thinking Liu Bao could be a useful shield for her team later).
Jin Ryeong turned and walked away. Phase 1 complete. The Shield was active.
Now he had to prepare for the real danger. Because winning the preliminaries just put a target on your back.
The Infirmary - Post Match
Jin Ryeong entered the recovery tent designated for Group 7. Liu Bao was sitting on a bench, a healer wrapping his bleeding hands.
"You did well," Jin Ryeong said, stepping into the tent.
Liu Bao jumped up.
"Doctor! Did you see? I crushed them! I'm invincible!"
"You're reckless," Jin Ryeong said, checking the spear wounds on Liu Bao's palms.
"If that spear had been an inch higher, you'd be blind. The Sponge doesn't protect your eyes."
He applied some of the stolen Blood-Clotting Salve.
"But you passed.
That's what matters."
A shadow fell over the tent entrance. Jin Ryeong turned.
Standing there was a disciple in white robes. Feng. The Rank 3 Inner Disciple Jin Ryeong had bumped into in the Archives. The one with the lightning sword and the drug addiction.
Feng wasn't looking at Jin Ryeong. He was looking at Liu Bao with disdain.
"So," Feng sneered.
"This is the pig that everyone is cheering for? The Outer Sect really has no standards."
Liu Bao shrank back, his confidence evaporating in the face of an Inner Sect elite.
Feng stepped closer.
"Enjoy your victory, pig. But don't think mass makes you a cultivator.
If you step into the main bracket... I will carve you into slices."
Feng turned to leave, but stopped. He looked at Jin Ryeong.
He sniffed the air.
"You again. The servant."
Feng's eyes narrowed.
"You smell like... ozone. And burnt sugar."
Jin Ryeong's heart beat steady. Burnt sugar? That's the smell of the Adrenaline Pill residue.
"I work in the Medicine Hall, Senior Brother," Jin Ryeong bowed.
"I smell like many things."
Feng stared at him for a long moment. His hand drifted to his sword hilt.
"I don't like coincidences. You were in the Archives.
Now you are here. If I find out you are plotting something..."
Feng let the threat hang in the air. He turned and walked away.
Liu Bao exhaled, trembling.
"That was Feng... The Thunder Sword. He's terrifying."
Jin Ryeong watched Feng's retreating back. He saw the slight tremor in Feng's left hand. Withdrawal symptoms.
"He is terrifying," Jin Ryeong agreed.
"But he is sick."
Jin Ryeong turned to Liu Bao.
"Rest up, Liu. Tomorrow, the Inner Sect bracket begins. We aren't fighting. We are watching."
"Watching?"
"Yes," Jin Ryeong smiled dangerously.
"We are going to watch Senior Brother Feng fight.
And we are going to learn exactly where to stick the needle."