For the following week, Xincheng changed.

  Curfew tightened like a noose. Gates closed earlier, patrols doubled, and every night the streets filled with torchlight and restless intent. Cultivators from the three sects volunteered eagerly to join the constabulary, claiming righteous concern as they searched for the rumored “demon.”

  Instead, they found a man in a fox mask.

  At first, suspicion fell naturally on him. An unknown figure striking from alleys and rooftops, disrupting patrols, vanishing without trace, surely he was the demon himself. Yet no matter how many times they surrounded him, probed him, or unleashed detection techniques, they found no trace of wicked qi.

  He was clean. Infuriatingly so.

  Slowly, unease replaced certainty. This was no beast and someone was harassing them.

  The sects began to realize they were being toyed with. Sabotaged. Still, they had no choice but to play along with the Lord of Xincheng’s rules. At first, each sect was allowed only three cultivators per patrol, accompanied by an official constable. Then came the petitions, the speeches, and the fervent declarations of responsibility and virtue.

  Numbers increased.

  So did the attacks of the fox.

  “He must be a demon!” snarled a Boulder Path cultivator after yet another ambush. “If not, why would he persist when there’s no benefit? This reeks of scheming… of the Lord of Xincheng!”

  He was found later that night, sprawled in an outhouse, face-first in filth.

  “I will capture this madman and prove my sect’s superiority—” declared a Dragon Heart cultivator.

  He never finished the sentence. He, too, was later discovered in an outhouse, face meeting the same undignified fate.

  “We should… lie low,” suggested a Phantasm Star disciple during a tense discussion. “Hunt the fox first, then resume the search for the Meteor Child.”

  He spent the rest of the night violently regretting his lunch and dinner, since someone laced both of them with something earlier that day.

  What began as nightly harassment escalated into daylight encounters. Market squares, rooftops, backstreets… Nowhere felt safe. The fox mask became a symbol of mockery, of resistance, of a hand constantly knocking pieces off the board.

  And no matter how many cultivators they sent out, the fox was always faster!

  The fox was none other than me, Yakuza Man.

  In the beginning, I had been careful. Very careful. That was why I insisted on limiting their numbers at first. With constables embedded into their patrols, I always knew where they were, how many there were, and most importantly who would be slow to react when things went wrong. I picked them off one by one, never cleanly, never proudly, always in ways that left them angry, humiliated, and confused.

  It had been a full week since then.

  A good week.

  I crouched low on the rooftop, my weight balanced perfectly on the balls of my feet, fox mask pulled tight against my face. In my hand was the compass Teng Wen had lent me. It was an innocuous-looking thing, yet its needle never wavered, always pointing toward the nearest constable. Through them, I could track the cultivators shadowing the patrols like parasites.

  Day and night, the harassment never stopped.

  By day, the constables did their part with misplaced documents, wrong directions, sudden inspections, “accidental” confiscations, and endless delays. By night, I became the nightmare that waited for them in the dark. Rooftops. Alleys. Courtyards. Latrines. No place was sacred.

  Since there was no proper leveling ground in this world, I made one.

  The fights forced me to adapt. To fight dirty. To fight smart. I deliberately avoided my flashier moves, forbidding myself from relying on brute-force specials. Instead, I leaned on positioning, timing, and consumables from smoke pellets, adhesive silk strands, and blinding powders. The Heaven-Silk Art proved invaluable. Walls, ceilings, narrow ledges… Everything became terrain I could exploit.

  Pain became familiar. So did growth.

  My status floated calmly before my eyes.

  [NAME: YAKUZA MAN]

  [LEVEL: 154]

  Health: 100%

  Energy: 100%

  Awesomeness: 50 + 8

  Swiftness: 32 + 10

  Toughness: 42

  Life Token: 2 / 3

  The gains were slowing now. Higher levels meant thinner returns, and worse was that my opponents were learning. The days of effortless stun-locks were gone. They watched my footwork, anticipated my angles, and covered each other’s blind spots.

  Good.

  That just meant things were getting interesting.

  I halted at the edge of the roof, lowering myself into a deeper crouch as I peered down.

  Three cultivators moved through the street below, accompanied by a constable.

  [Level 160].

  [Level 158].

  [Level 143].

  They should be within range of my abilities.

  In YKU, anyone within twenty levels was manageable, if you played perfectly. Numbers complicated things, sure, but that was what positioning and timing were for.

  Judging by the color of their robes, mostly white with streaks of red trimming, I immediately identified them as cultivators from the Dragon Heart Sect.

  A sudden, very naughty idea crossed my mind.

  Not long ago, I had acquired a rather entertaining Skill Book from a high-level Phantasm Star cultivator. Normally, my routine was simple: knock one out, vanish, and repeat. It was clean, efficient, and annoying.

  But this time?

  I wanted to wipe them out.

  And while I was at it… why not make them tear each other apart afterward?

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Mwahahahahahaha~!

  The system chimed with cold indifference.

  [-10 Awesomeness]

  I silently reviewed the skill’s description , hoping it would be flashy enough to leave a lasting impression.

  [Starlight Thread]

  [Condense starlight into thin cutting lines.]

  Oh yes. This would do nicely.

  I remained motionless, belly flat against the roof tiles, letting my breathing slow until it was indistinguishable from the night wind. Below me, their footsteps grew closer, perfectly unaware. I swallowed two things in quick succession: a pill Teng Wen had discreetly provided meant to temporarily enhance combat focus and an Adrenaline Booster from the [Shop].

  My muscles tightened. My perception sharpened.

  Just a little stronger. Just enough.

  The cultivators turned left.

  Their backs faced me.

  Perfect.

  Now, strongest or weakest?

  Targeting the weakest was safe and reliable. But safe didn’t end fights quickly, and I didn’t have the luxury of time. Reinforcements would come if this dragged on.

  So I chose violence.

  The [Level 160] cultivator.

  I kicked off the rooftop with Double Jump, the tiles cracking softly beneath my foot as I launched myself downward like a falling star.

  “Oraaa~!”

  My charged basic attack came down hard.

  The blunt sword smashed into the back of his shoulder and neck junction with a dull, satisfying thud. The guaranteed stun triggered instantly, compounded by the height advantage. His body lurched forward, knees buckling as shock rippled through him.

  I didn’t stop.

  “Ora—ora—ora!”

  My blade moved in a relentless rhythm, each strike feeding into the next. As I swung, I activated the stolen technique.

  Starlight Thread.

  Thin, shimmering lines burst forth from my sword, nearly invisible, yet unmistakably beautiful. They carved through the air in precise arcs, lacing around the stunned cultivator like glowing silk. The threads bit into his robe, slicing fabric, scoring shallow but numerous wounds across his body.

  Blood sprayed not enough to kill, but more than enough to confuse.

  Behind him, his two companions froze.

  “What the—?!”

  “Phantasm Star techniques?!”

  Very good!

  The starlight threads didn’t discriminate. A few lines snapped outward, grazing the other two cultivators, one across the forearm, the other along the cheek. The cuts were clean, glowing faintly before fading.

  From their perspective?

  Their rival cultivator from the Phantasm Star Sect had just unleashed a forbidden technique… and hit them. I twisted mid-combo, kicked off his stunned body, and vanished upward with another Double Jump, silk-like energy clinging to the wall as I crawled sideways and disappeared into shadow.

  Below me, chaos erupted.

  “Are you insane?!”

  “You attacked us!”

  “Don’t play dumb, your sword was glowing!”

  I wasn’t done yet.

  I turned back, dropping into a low crouch as my stealth kicked in. The [Level 160] cultivator was retching on one knee, still reeling as he forced his qi back into order. His breathing was ragged.

  The constable beside him whispered anxiously, “Master cultivator… should we flee now?”

  The man snarled, pride flaring brighter than his common sense. “And what? Show my face to my brothers and sisters like this?” He spat blood to the side and barked, “Wu Wen! Lai Bo! Chase after him! I’ll follow once I calm my qi!”

  “Yes, senior brother!”

  “Rest first, we’ll catch him and leave plenty of places for you to bruise him later!”

  The [Level 158] and [Level 154] cultivators sprinted off immediately, charging straight into the fake trail I’d prepared earlier. Hooks, broken tiles, and everything pointing the wrong way.

  Perfect.

  Before Wen Zhihao could finish circulating his qi, I slipped in behind him like a shadow peeling off the wall.

  [Wen Zhihao][Level 160]

  He had already settled into a lotus position, eyes closed, palms resting on his knees. Calm. Focused. Confident that his juniors had things handled.

  I gestured silently at the constable.

  Quiet.

  He swallowed and nodded.

  I raised my blunt sword.

  Heavenly Punishment!

  The strike came down clean and brutal, snapping his focus apart. Before his body even hit the ground, I chained into a multi-hit basic attack.

  “Ora—ora—ora!”

  I stopped deliberately when his health dipped to [5%], watching his body slacken as consciousness slipped away and he was out cold.

  The constable stared, eyes wide. “Impressive, Mr. Fox.”

  I exhaled slowly. “I got lucky.”

  He hesitated. “Uh… should I play dead now?”

  I shook my head. “Scream like you mean it.”

  He nodded seriously, took a breath, cupped his hands around his mouth, and then…

  “Aaaaah~! The fox is here, please don’t touch me! Aaaaaah~! Help! I like women! It hurts! Please! Please, no~! Not there~! The fox is assaulting me, help!”

  He stopped, and glanced at me. “Is that enough?”

  “…”

  Honestly, I wanted to smack him. Why did he have to make it weird? Am I missing something?

  “That’s enough,” I said flatly. “Now play dead.”

  He immediately dropped to the ground, limbs splayed dramatically, eyes squeezed shut.

  I leaned flat against the wall, back pressed to the cold stone where the earlier pair had jumped down.

  As expected, they landed right before me.

  Wu Wen and Lai Bo dropped from above in a rush, boots scraping stone as they spun, searching for me. Their momentum carried them forward just a half-step too far.

  Their backs were wide open.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  “Oraaa~!”

  I surged forward and drove a charged basic attack straight into Wu Wen’s spine. The impact rattled his bones and locked his body stiff mid-breath, forcing him in a stunned state. However, I was not done yet.

  Lai Bo reacted fast, whirling around and drawing his sword, but I was already moving.

  Silk-like energy snapped from the tip of my blade. It was Heaven-Silk Art. The thread hooked the hilt of Lai Bo’s sword with surgical precision. I pulled and his weapon was ripped clean out of his grasp.

  I caught it.

  Lai Bo stared at me, then at his sword, and then back at me.

  “Ora—ora—ora!”

  I went in with a multi-hit basic attack, dual-wielding like a lunatic with my blunt sword in one hand and his own weapon in the other, deliberately striking with the blunt edges. Threads of starlight flared as Starlight Thread danced around his limbs, slicing the air without cutting flesh.

  “Ouch! Ouch!” Lai Bo yelled, stumbling backward. “You Phantasm Star Sect bastards! This is dishonorable!”

  Wu Wen finally shook off the stun, and immediately lost his sword too.

  Another flick of silk and tug, his blade flew from his hand.

  I planted it point-down into the ground between us with a sharp clang. If I didn’t have a mask on, I might’ve wielded it with my mouth just to be disrespectful.

  I turned back to Lai Bo.

  “Ora—ora—ora!”

  The dual-wielding barrage came down on him relentlessly.

  “Hey, hey!” Lai Bo cried. “That’s foul play! Don’t hit me in the groin! Wu Wen, heeeelp~!”

  I laughed as I kept swinging. “Just become a good monk and be a true ascetic!”

  Wu Wen shouted, flustered, “I think you’re misunderstanding something! It’s usually eunuchs who—”

  “Focus, senior brother!” Lai Bo screamed.

  Wu Wen suddenly tripped, thanks to a thin line of silk wrapped around his boot. He ungraciously face-planted into the stone with a pathetic thud.

  I turned slowly toward Lai Bo.

  He froze.

  Hands went up.

  “Uh… I surrender?”

  “Ora—ora—ora!”

  I hit him anyway, until he was knocked out to [Health: 5%]. [Status: Fainted].

  I stopped before Wu Wen who was at [Health: 15%]. However, there was no fainted status. It could only mean one thing. He was just pretending to be unconcious.

  “Hmmm… Sorry, I need my levels…”

  I hit him with a dual-wielding multi-hit basic attacks, until he fainted.

  “Ora—ora—ora!”

  The level-ups came in rather nicely.

  I could feel them settling into my bones, that familiar warmth spreading through my limbs as my strength stabilized. Satisfied, I crouched down and began looting their belongings with practiced efficiency. Spirit coins first, then mortal coins. No storage rings, though. It was unfortunate, but not unexpected.

  I paused.

  “Oh? What’s this?”

  Tucked into Wen Zhihao’s inner robes was a thin, jade-edged booklet. A Skill Book. I flipped it open just enough for my system to react.

  [-10 Awesomeness]

  [Dragon Rend]

  [Manifests a dragon-like claw]

  I stared at the description, and then I slowly closed the book.

  “Mwahahahahahahahaha~!” I laughed quietly, shoulders shaking. “This is gonna be great.”

  Eight more patrol groups were scattered throughout the city tonight. Their numbers varied, but one thing was consistent. Each group stuck strictly to its own sect. What did that mean? It would be easier to manipulate them than I imagined..

  I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “Boulder Path Sect next, maybe?” I muttered. “Kekekekekekeke~!”

  Behind me, the constable cracked one eye open.

  “M-Mr. Fox…” he said weakly. “Y-you’re scaring me…”

  I turned my masked face toward him and grinned beneath it.

  “My dear constable,” I said pleasantly, “stand up. I have a job for you.”

  “Huh?” He scrambled upright. “W-What is it?”

  “This time,” I said, tapping my sword against my palm, “you’re going to run.”

  “…Yes?”

  “And,” I added helpfully, “you’re going to squeal like a pig while I chase you.”

  There was a long pause.

  “…Sir,” the constable said slowly, voice trembling, “may I ask why?”

  I tilted my head, considering.

  “Because,” I answered cheerfully, “we’re about to start a rumor that gets legs!”

  His face went pale.

  “…Understood.”