Chapter 9: The Butcher's BoyThe walk back to the village was a parade of stares. Lin Wu dragged the rolled Ironhide Boar hide behind him, the massive pelt leaving a deep furrow in the muddy path. Slung over his shoulder was a makeshift pole, from which hung several leaf-wrapped bundles of meat and the two curved tusks, each gleaming with a faint, metallic sheen. He was covered in dried blood—some his, mostly the boar's—and his clothes were torn and filthy. He looked like he had crawled out of a massacre. Which, technically, he had. Old Widow Guo was the first to see him. She was weeding her garden when she heard the heavy scrape of the hide on the path. She looked up, saw the blood-soaked apparition that was Lin Wu, and promptly dropped her trowel. Her mangy dog let out a low, uncertain whine. "Lin... Lin boy?" Her voice was a trembling whisper. "What... what have you done?" Lin Wu paused. He was exhausted, his muscles screaming, his mind foggy from the adrenaline crash. But he recognized a reputation opportunity when he saw one. "Boar," he said simply, gesturing with his chin at the tusks. "Ironhide. It was prowling near the eastern woods. Won't bother anyone anymore." He continued walking, leaving Widow Guo staring after him with her mouth hanging open. By the time he reached the village center, a small crowd had gathered. Word spread faster than wildfire in a dry season. The Lin boy, the talentless orphan who had made Chen Gou bleed, had killed an Ironhide Boar. Alone. With an axe. Lin Wu ignored the murmurs and the pointing fingers. He made his way to the village's only general store—a cramped, dusty establishment run by a nervous, bespectacled man named Old Mao. Old Mao bought and sold everything: herbs, tools, beast parts, and occasionally information. The bell above the door jingled as Lin Wu entered. Old Mao looked up from his ledger, saw the blood-soaked boy, and went pale. "Spirits preserve us," he breathed. "Is that... is that an Ironhide pelt?" "Juvenile," Lin Wu confirmed. He dropped the heavy hide onto the counter with a dull thud. "I want to sell the meat and the hide. Keep the tusks and the core. What's your offer?" Old Mao's eyes widened. He ran his hands over the pelt, his expression shifting from shock to professional appraisal. "The hide is damaged—multiple cuts, some tearing. But it's still Ironhide. Tough as stone, even from a juvenile. And the meat... village hasn't had spirit beast meat in months. I can offer you..." He named a price. It was modest, but fair. Lin Wu, who had no frame of reference for this world's economy, simply nodded.
"Throw in a set of sturdy clothes and a better whetstone," Lin Wu added. "And any books you have on beast anatomy or local herbs." Old Mao blinked at the strange request but complied. A few minutes later, Lin Wu walked out wearing a clean, if slightly oversized, tunic and trousers. He carried a small bundle containing a quality whetstone, a thin, worn book titled Common Beasts of the Ambira Lowlands, and a second, even more tattered volume called A Farmer's Guide to Medicinal Weeds.
Skill books. The world has skill books. This changes everything. He made a mental note to scour every book stall and library he could find in the future. Knowledge was power, and in this world, knowledge had a literal, quantifiable value. As he walked home, he passed the butcher's shop. Chen Tao was standing outside, his massive cleaver in hand, watching Lin Wu with a complex expression—anger, confusion, and a grudging flicker of something that might have been respect. Beside him, Chen Gou stared at the tusks slung over Lin Wu's shoulder. The young cultivator's face was pale, his usual arrogance replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. Lin Wu met Chen Gou's gaze. He didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He simply nodded once, a curt acknowledgment, and continued walking. The message was clear: I killed something that would have given you trouble. What do you think I'll do to you in twenty days?
Lin Wu allowed himself a small, private smile. Psychological warfare. The best debuff was one that cost no mana and required no casting time. DAY 11 OF 30He woke before dawn, as always. But this time, he had a new priority.
He sat cross-legged on his cot, holding the Beast Core in his left hand and the Null Crown fragment in his right. The core was a rough, milky-white sphere about the size of a quail's egg. It pulsed with a faint, erratic warmth—wild, untamed Qi that most cultivators would spend weeks purifying before absorption. Lin Wu couldn't purify Qi. He couldn't even store it. But the Null Crown fragment could leech it. EXPERIMENT INITIATED: DIRECT QI LEECH FROM INANIMATE SOURCE. He pressed the fragment against the core. Nothing happened. He focused, trying to will the fragment to activate. Still nothing. Frustration bubbled up. It only works on contact with living Qi systems. The boar was alive. The core is just a battery. Dead. He was about to give up when he remembered the garden stone. The warm pulse it gave when he was exhausted. The way it responded to his state, not his will. He closed his eyes. He thought about exhaustion. About pain. About the edge of death. He summoned the memory of the boar's tusks punching through his gut, the white-hot agony, the darkness closing in.
Contamination. A debuff. Of course. Nothing is free. But eight seconds of a minor buff was still a buff. And the core had dimmed only slightly. He estimated it contained perhaps fifty units of Qi in total. Enough for twenty-five short bursts of enhancement. A consumable resource. A mana potion, essentially. I can use this in the duel. He tucked the core into his pocket, next to the warm garden stone. Two mysteries. Two sources of power. One he understood, one he didn't. DAYS 12-17 OF 30The next six days blurred into a relentless rhythm. MORNING: Running laps. [ENDURANCE NOVICE] progress climbed slowly. By Day 17, he was at 31% to Adept. The 10% stamina boost was becoming noticeable; he could run longer before collapsing. MIDDAY: Axe drills. Swinging at the ironwood log, focusing on precision and speed. [AXE ADEPT] progress: 14% to Expert. He also began experimenting with the Ironhide Tusks. They were heavy, curved, and wickedly sharp. He lashed one to a sturdy branch, creating a crude but deadly spear.
Weapon diversity. Good. Gives me options. AFTERNOON: Strength training with stones. [STRENGTH NOVICE] progress to Adept: 5% (a long road ahead). And reading. He devoured the two books during his rest periods. The beast book taught him the anatomy of common Ambira creatures—where to strike for maximum damage, where to cut for the best materials. The herb book was drier, but it unlocked a new understanding of the plants in his mother's garden.
EVENING: Garden tending. Watering, weeding, observing. The plants were visibly healthier now. More tomatoes had ripened, and the drooping bean vines had begun to climb their stakes with renewed vigor. The stone in his pocket grew warmer each evening, as if pleased. DAY 18 OF 30A breakthrough in the garden. He was kneeling in the soil, pulling a stubborn weed from beside the tomato plants, when his fingers brushed against something hard. Another stone. This one was smaller, flatter, and cool to the touch. It was carved with a single, simple symbol—a stylized leaf.
Lin Wu looked around the garden. His mother had planted these vegetables. But she had also buried stones. Why? He dug carefully around the spot where he found the first warm stone. Nothing else. He dug around the second. Still nothing. Then he sat back and looked at the garden as a whole—the arrangement of the plants, the spacing between the rows.
The plants weren't randomly placed. They formed a pattern. A rough circle, with the tomato plants at the center, surrounded by beans, then peppers, then herbs at the outer edge. And the stones... the stones were at the cardinal points of the circle. A formation. A garden formation. For what purpose? He didn't have an answer. But the notification that appeared made his heart beat faster.
Four stones. Two found. The garden is a puzzle box left by my mother. He spent the rest of the evening searching, but the third and fourth stones eluded him. They were buried deeper, or hidden in spots he hadn't thought to check. He would need a higher Botany skill—or a higher Perception—to find them. DAY 20 OF 30Ten days until the duel. Ten days since the boar hunt. Lin Wu's body had transformed. The skinny, hollow-cheeked farm boy was gone. In his place stood a lean, wiry young man with rope-like muscles and calloused hands that could grip an axe for hours without faltering. His eyes, once dull and defeated, now held a sharp, calculating light.
He stood in the yard, shirtless, performing his final axe drills as the sun set. Each swing was precise, economical, and powerful. The ironwood log, which had once resisted his every blow, was now a shattered, splintered wreck. He had gone through three logs in the past ten days. Chen Gou had been training too. Lin Wu had seen him practicing with his father in the butcher's yard. The young cultivator's sword forms were sharper, his Qi flaring brighter. He had probably consumed spirit pills and received personal instruction. His growth was steeper, faster, more conventional. But Lin Wu had something Chen Gou didn't. He had died to learn the boar's patterns. He had a Beast Core full of emergency power. He had a Qi-leeching artifact strapped to his axe. And he had ten days left to prepare a few more surprises. As the last light faded, Lin Wu looked toward the village. Somewhere out there, Chen Gou was probably confident. Arrogant. Certain that his Qi would crush the talentless mortal. Lin Wu smiled. It was the smile of a gamer who had found an exploit and was about to break the game. Ten days. Let's make them count. DAY 20 COMPLETE. 10 DAYS REMAINING. |
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Chapter 8: The Warm-Up Boss DAY 8 OF 30 The notification about the Ironhide Boar had changed his calculus. Grinding for base stats was still essential, but now he had a specific, imminent target. A boss fight. And any gamer worth their salt knew you didn't walk into a boss fight blind. You scouted. You prepared. And if necessary, you died a few times to learn the mechanics. Lin Wu woke before dawn, as had become his ritual. His body still ached, but the pain was becoming familiar—a background hum rather than a screaming alarm. The [Masochist] title was earning its keep. HP: 98/100 Stamina: 100/100 Soul Sync: 18% ...
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