The mountain screamed as I descended.

  Stone sparked beneath the bat, blue-white streaks flashing every time I shifted my weight. Wind tore tears from my eyes and flattened my blazer against my back like a banner. The rain couldn’t keep up anymore as it streamed backward, shredded into mist by my speed.

  Monkeys came at me in waves.

  They burst from clouds, leapt from unseen ledges, crawled straight out of the fog like nightmares refusing to stay buried. Blue fur. Red eyes. Broken laughter that echoed in my skull.

  I welcomed them.

  Another one lunged from the side. I ducked, twisted my hips, and let momentum do the rest. The bat clipped its jaw with a crunch that vibrated up my legs.

  “Ora!”

  It vanished into mist.

  Two more tried to flank me, blinking in and out so fast it almost scared me. My feet shifted automatically, weight sliding just enough to keep balance while my hands moved freely. I grabbed one by the wrist, yanked it off its leap, and slammed my forehead into its face.

  “Ora!”

  The other slashed my shoulder with a rusty sword. Where did you even get that, you bum monkey!? Pain flared hot and sharp from my shoulder, registering the damage values on my Health Bar. [Health: 82%]

  I didn’t slow down. “Bad move,” I snarled. “Here’s some monkey business, alright!?”

  I seized it mid-air and hurled it downward like trash off a rooftop.

  “Ora—!”

  The slope began to ease, the angle softening as the mountain’s rage finally gave way to gravity’s mercy. Trees appeared through the thinning fog. They were tall, ancient things with trunks thicker than trucks and leaves that shimmered faintly with spiritual light.

  The monkeys stopped coming.

  Their laughter faded into distant echoes, swallowed by wind and forest.

  I rode the bat straight out of the rain and into sunlight.

  The transition was so sudden it almost felt like crossing a border. One moment, the sky was slate-gray and furious. The next, golden light filtered through layers of green, warm and alive. The air grew thick, rich with the scent of sap and earth. My bat scraped once more against stone, then hit soil, and slowed.

  I jumped off, rolling once across damp leaves before coming to a stop on one knee. I’m breathing hard, heart racing, and feeling alive.

  I stood slowly and looked up.

  The mountain loomed behind me, its peak hidden by storm clouds that churned like something angry and intelligent. Rain still fell up there. Down here, the forest was calm, almost serene, as if the storm had never existed.

  “…So that’s the boundary,” I muttered.

  A soft chime sounded.

  The interface blinked into existence.

  [MAIN QUEST PROGRESS UPDATED]

  [FIND CIVILIZATION: PARTIAL COMPLETION]

  [NEW AREA DISCOVERED: VERDANT OUTER FOREST]

  I laughed weakly. “Partial, huh? Figures.”

  I checked myself over. My clothes were torn, soaked, and filthy. My shoulder bled where claws had raked it, but the wound was already closing slowly, but noticeably.

  “Toughness doing work,” I murmured.

  I pulled up my status.

  [Life Token: 2 / 3]

  I wiped rainwater from my face and pushed my sunglasses up slightly, just enough to get a clearer look. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction. Sunlight dappled the ground. Somewhere far off, I heard birds. Their calls were uneven and alive.

  Finally, I heard human voices.

  I froze.

  They were distant but unmistakable. They were arguing, maybe laughing. The sound carried through the trees, rough and imperfect, like people who had lungs and throats and bad habits.

  “Civilization.”

  My chest tightened.

  I followed the sound carefully, bat resting on my shoulder. The forest floor was uneven, roots twisting like snakes, but my steps were silent. After everything I’d endured, this felt almost easy.

  I crested a small rise and looked down.

  A dirt road cut through the trees. Wagons stood parked along it, pulled by shaggy beasts that looked like oxen with too many horns. Several people clustered around a broken wheel, men and women in rough robes and leather armor, arguing loudly.

  Cultivators.

  I could tell instantly.

  Not because of robes or swords, but because of the way they stood with there backs straight, movements economical, and eyes sharp. There was an awareness to them that screamed combat-trained.

  And there were a lot of them.

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  I counted quickly. Eight. No obvious heavy hitters, but at least two had visible weapons humming faintly with strange aura I could only call spiritual energy.

  I stayed hidden.

  “…Wheel’s done for,” one of them said. “We’ll have to camp.”

  “In this forest?” another snapped. “You want to get eaten by spirit beasts?”

  A third scoffed. “Relax. This is outer forest territory. At worst, we’ll see a few mist monkeys.”

  My jaw tightened.

  “Oh, you’ve got no idea,” I muttered.

  As if summoned by the words, a low growl rolled through the trees.

  Every cultivator stiffened.

  Something massive moved between the trunks. Leaves shook. Birds scattered.

  Out stepped a beast.

  It looked like a tiger, if a tiger had grown to the size of a truck, its stripes glowing faintly blue, its eyes burning with cold intelligence. Spiritual pressure rolled off it in waves that made the air feel heavy.

  A spirit beast.

  How could I tell? Well, it had its name plastered for me to see above it.

  [Spirit Beast - Tiger]

  The cultivators drew weapons instantly, formations snapping into place, but I could see the fear. This thing was probably much stronger than they expected.

  The beast roared and the sound hit my chest like a punch.

  I exhaled slowly and stepped out of the trees.

  Every head snapped toward me.

  A man in a torn white blazer, red shirt soaked and stained, sunglasses cracked but still worn, wooden bat resting casually on his shoulder.

  The cultivators stared.

  “…Who?” someone began.

  The spirit beast turned, eyes locking onto me.

  “Guess this counts as civilization,” I said. “Ora!”

  My bat connected.

  The impact rang out like striking a temple bell.

  The tiger’s head snapped back as the wooden bat slammed straight into its nose. There was a brief, almost comedic moment where its massive body continued forward while its brain clearly hadn’t caught up yet. The bat rebounded from the force, vibrating violently in my hands.

  Then instinct screamed.

  I twisted just as the tiger retaliated, a claw the size of my torso tearing through the air in a brutal, horizontal arc. Wind pressure alone stung my skin.

  Why wasn’t I panicking?

  The answer surfaced with unsettling clarity.

  Levels!

  I was Level 100. A yakuza with a bat.

  This thing? It wa sonly at Level 80.

  In YKU terms, that made it an elite mob. Dangerous. Punishing if sloppy. But ultimately… farmable.

  I kicked off the ground and activated Double Jump. My body surged upward unnaturally, boots pushing off empty air as if it were solid. The tiger’s claws passed harmlessly beneath me. Gasps erupted from behind.

  “That footwork—!”

  “Aerial lightness technique?”

  “Cloud-threading steps?!”

  …Cloud what now?

  I didn’t bother processing it. Mid-air, I twisted my hips and brought the bat down in a brutal overhead swing. The basic skill ‘Ora’ could be used in three different ways, namely the single hit ‘Ora’, the multi-hit ‘Ora-ora-ora!’ or the charged skill…

  “Oraaa~!”

  The bat crashed into the tiger’s skull with a dull, bone-rattling thoom. The spirit beast staggered, legs buckling as its eyes glazed over. It was ‘Stunned’, a status effect that would render just about anyone into a dazed state, allowing me to punish it.

  I felt energy drain slightly as I triggered a familiar command, one I’d used thousands of times behind a screen.

  “Bat of the Mad Dog.”

  The world narrowed as I moved.

  There was neither rhythm nor mercy as I unleashed my attack.

  My bat became a blur as I rushed forward, striking again and again from cheek, jaw, temple, and snout, each hit landing with sickening force. Blood sprayed freely, splattering across leaves and bark. The tiger never recovered. Its body shuddered under the relentless barrage until strength abandoned it entirely.

  “Oraaa~!”

  The final strike crushed its face inward as I unleashed a charged basic attack.

  Silence followed as the corpse collapsed heavily onto the forest floor.

  I landed lightly on my toes, breath steady, shoulders relaxed, bat resting casually against my shoulder. I turned toward the cultivators. “Well,” I said, “now that I’ve killed the tiger, it’s time for introductions.”

  Every cultivator stiffened as if I’d just drawn a blade instead of words. Hands tightened around hilts. Some kind of aura flared faintly in alarm.

  …Ah.

  That came out wrong.

  The oldest among them stepped forward anyway, despite the tension. His hair was streaked with gray, his posture rigid but disciplined. He gripped his sword tightly, knuckles pale.

  “I am Tao Fang,” he said carefully, eyes never leaving me. “Elder of the Peaceful Lake Sect.”

  “I like the sound of that,” I replied without thinking.

  They flinched.

  Damn it.

  I meant peaceful! I liked peaceful. That was a good word. A comforting word. But now, with a dead tiger at my feet and blood still dripping from my bat, it probably sounded like I was approving their impending funeral.

  Something clicked in my mind about an old mechanic.

  [Intimidation (Passive): Lower-level enemies experience fear, hesitation, and weakened combat effectiveness in your presence.]

  “…Oh,” I muttered internally. “That’s on.”

  I took a slow breath and consciously tried to rein it in, relaxing my shoulders, loosening my grip, and softening my stance. I didn’t know if praying to a game mechanic would work, but I tried anyway.

  ‘Please. Dial it down. I’m not trying to extort anyone.’

  The oppressive pressure eased just a little.

  Tao Fang exhaled, his grip loosening by a fraction. His shoulders dropped slightly, though his eyes remained sharp.

  “…You are not a beast,” he said cautiously. “So tell me.”

  He met my gaze.

  “Who are you?”

  I could see there level clearly.

  Numbers floated at the edge of my perception, faint and unobtrusive, as natural as reading a health bar in YKU. The cultivators before me were… weak. Most hovered around Level 15 to 20, their auras thin and uneven. The youngest ones barely registered as threats at all.

  The old man in front was different, standing at exactly Level 52.

  Respectable by this world’s standards, I guessed, since people around him clearly depended on him. Still nowhere near Yakuza Man. That imbalance explained everything how I could stand here calmly with a bloodied bat, how I could afford to speak casually after killing a spirit tiger, and how there hands never strayed far from their weapons.

  They probably couldn’t see levels, like the way I could, but they could probably feel it to some biological level if they were this tense.

  I cleared my throat and straightened slightly as I introduced myself. “Name’s Yakuza Man.”

  A ripple went through the group. Someone swallowed audibly.

  “I’m… lost,” I continued, choosing my words carefully. “Came down from the mountain, picked a random direction, and ran into here. I was hoping I could come along with you. At least until I find civilization.”

  My gaze flicked to the wagon behind them.

  One wheel was shattered beyond repair.

  Tao Fang followed my look and sighed inwardly. “We would be honored to provide aid to our benefactor,” he said, voice formal and measured. “However… as you can see, our journey is halted.”

  His eyes hardened with something like principle. “It would be against the righteous path to abandon part of our group or move recklessly forward. So, I hope you understand our situation.”

  I understood immediately that they didn’t exactly want me here.

  Some of them looked at me with awe. Others with fear. A few with outright hostility masked behind discipline. Whatever calm I’d tried to project, the aftereffects of my Intimidation passive and the violent display I’d just put on were still hanging in the air like smoke.

  Still, man… I just saved your asses, okay?

  So I made a decision.

  I reached up and dismissed my bat. The wooden weapon vanished into my [Inventory]. The tension eased just a little.

  “I’m not in a rush,” I said evenly. “I can wait.”

  That earned me a few surprised looks.

  “I don’t even know where to start in this place,” I added honestly. “If nothing else, I’d appreciate a warm meal.”

  That one line did more than anything else I’d said.

  Tao Fang turned and conferred quietly with the others. Their voices were low and urgent. Some glanced my way repeatedly, as if afraid I’d overhear despite the distance.

  Finally, the elder turned back to me.

  “We will be setting camp for the night,” he said. “If you have the patience to stay… we are willing to share a tent and a meal with you.”

  He inclined his head slightly. “That is the minimum we can offer our benefactor.”

  I smiled.

  “Great,” I said simply. “I can wait.”