“Home, you say?” Meng Rong repeated, her tone thoughtful rather than mocking. “I believe you mentioned something about wandering before.”

  I didn’t answer immediately.

  I weighed the words in my mouth as if they carried real weight, because here, they did. Saying too much could brand me a madman. Saying too little might close the only door I’d found so far. For a moment, I considered laughing it off, turning it into a joke, but this wasn’t the kind of woman you joked with when stakes were involved.

  In the end, I decided on measured and careful honesty.

  “Rather than wandering,” I said slowly, “I’m lost.”

  Her gaze sharpened.

  “I don’t know how I ended up in this domain, or where the way back is. I don’t even know what back looks like from here.” I paused, then added, searching for the right phrasing, “The distance between this place and my home… I suspect it’s so far that I couldn’t hope to find it alone.”

  That was the truth. Or at least, the version of it I could safely share.

  I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe I could rely on the system forever. I didn’t know its intent, its origin, or whether it even had one. For all I knew, this could have been nothing more than cosmic bad luck, a freak phenomenon that scooped me up and dropped me here like a misplaced piece on the wrong board.

  But… What if things turned out to be the worse?

  I’d die, respawn at that damned mountain, and run for another city. Yeah, that sounded reasonable, considering I still have [Life Token: 2/3].

  If anything, it was an actionable backup plan that I could use anytime.

  Meng Rong grimaced. “This feels like I’m handing you a blank check,” she said. “How hard could it possibly be?”

  She extended her hand.

  I hesitated for half a heartbeat, since handshakes probably weren’t exactly universal customs across worlds, but then I took it and shook.

  Pain flared at my wrist.

  I sucked in a sharp breath as a mark bloomed across my skin: a thin band of moon and stars, circling my wrist like a living bracelet. It shimmered once, then sank into my flesh.

  Meng Rong tightened her grip. “That’s a Binding Vow,” she said calmly. “A contract of the soul. Fail to fulfill your promise, and you can say farewell to your soul.”

  “…You could’ve warned me first,” I muttered.

  “To be clear,” I said, meeting her eyes, “what I want is for you to help me find my way home.”

  “In exchange,” she replied without hesitation, “you will protect my precious family.”

  She emphasized the next words deliberately.

  “My blood.”

  That was… broad.

  Very broad.

  I frowned. “That’s pretty open-ended. Do I have to guard your ancestral grounds too? Sweep the graves while I’m at it?”

  She scoffed. “This contract is divine. It comes from techniques my master recovered from ancient records, methods once used between Supreme Beings in the Lost Epoch. It’s foolproof.”

  Her eyes bored into mine. “Don’t even think about cheating me.”

  I swallowed.

  “If you’re worried you’ll be bound to protect my family in the afterlife,” she continued, “don’t be. The vow is woven into the soul, yes, but it adapts. It subtly influences your intent and actions. The only way it fails is if a greater destiny intervenes, something so overwhelming it can ignore the contract entirely. Natural death, exhaustion of lifespan, things like that.”

  She stepped closer.

  “I want you to understand one thing, Yakuza Man,” she said quietly. “My family is everything to me. I will hold nothing back to protect my flesh and blood.”

  I looked down at the faint, warm imprint around my wrist.

  …Well.

  No pressure, right?

  Ah. Fuck.

  I might’ve seriously underestimated cultivator powers, because that sounded terrifying.

  In hindsight, though… I’d secured at least one path forward. If the vow was as binding as she claimed, then I might’ve just gained an unwitting ally, one who literally couldn’t abandon me halfway. That was… comforting, in a deeply unsettling way.

  Cool.

  Meng Rong finally released my hand. I rubbed my wrist, wincing as the faint warmth lingered beneath my skin. Canonically, Yakuza Man had plenty of tattoos, ink earned through blood and poor life choices, but none of them were visible beneath his suit. This one, though, wasn’t ink at all. It felt heavier, like it had sunk past skin and bone and settled somewhere deeper.

  A constable approached us cautiously. “Lady Meng, we found something that may be of interest to you.”

  “What is it?” Meng Rong snapped, her patience already worn thin.

  The constable handed her a thin, worn journal. She flipped through it briskly, eyes scanning the pages as she hummed under her breath. After a moment, she closed it and handed it to me.

  “What is it?” I asked, taking it.

  “A gift,” she replied. “Perhaps you can learn something from it.”

  I nodded and tucked it away, deciding to skim it later.

  Her expression hardened. “What is your plan now?” she asked. “You talk a big game, but that is easier said than done. For security reasons, I cannot disclose anything further. The situation remains the same. There is someone I do not want our guests to get their hands on.”

  Her eyes flicked to me meaningfully.

  “If the worst comes to pass, I am willing to give this person up,” she continued, “but it would be preferable if that did not happen. I have yet to see the full extent of your ability. Your eloquence is promising, but words alone are not enough. Tell me, do you have a plan?”

  Whoever this person was, they clearly weren’t family. At least not by blood, if she was willing to sacrifice them when pushed.

  “I do,” I said. “Give me a week, and you’ll see results.”

  She didn’t interrupt, so I went on.

  “I can’t promise I’ll kick them out of Xincheng myself,” I admitted. “But I can make sure they don’t have the time or energy to go digging for your person.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Another constable entered, bowing. “We’ve scoured the premises, collected all relevant evidence, and begun processing it at the office, my lady. Witnesses are being handled, and the evidence will be examined for further complications. Anything requiring immediate attention will be reported to the lord and to you. It will, however, take some time.”

  Meng Rong nodded. “Fine. You are dismissed.”

  The constable bowed again and withdrew.

  She turned back to me. “The same goes for you, Yakuza Man. We will speak again after I finish reviewing the spider demon matter. I will be expecting you, preferably tomorrow.”

  Meng Rong turned and walked away.

  Now that I finally had time to myself, I pulled up my gains.

  No loot. No shiny drops. No rare materials.

  Just levels.

  Still, I couldn’t complain.

  [Level 111] → [Level 136].

  Twenty-five levels in one fight.

  I didn’t know how EXP was calculated in this world, whether it factored danger, level disparity, or just how close I’d come to dying. However, I knew this much: this was a lot! More than I’d ever gained at once.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I spent the points immediately.

  [NAME: YAKUZA MAN]

  [LEVEL: 136]

  Health: 100%

  Energy: 100%

  Awesomeness: 50 + 5

  Swiftness: 32 + 10

  Toughness: 32 + 10

  Life Token: 2 / 3

  [INVENTORY]

  [SHOP]

  The changes settled into my body almost instantly.

  My breathing felt smoother, and my movements lighter. When I clenched my fists, there was a density there that hadn’t existed before, like my bones and muscles had learned how to brace themselves properly.

  Still, the fight against Min Chow replayed in my mind whether I wanted it to or not.

  I’d won—but it hadn’t been clean. It hadn’t been stylish. No flashy finish, no overwhelming dominance. Just raw execution, timing, and the grim understanding that if I made one mistake, I’d be dead.

  I felt the limitations clearly now.

  My Energy pool had been razor-thin. One more failed combo, one more mistimed guard, and I wouldn’t have had enough left to end it. The legendary gear carried me harder than I liked to admit. Without it, that fight would’ve been suicide.

  And still…

  I sighed.

  For something that felt like a boss battle, it hadn’t looked like one. No grand techniques, no earth-shattering moves. Just blunt force, blood, and a monster that refused to stay down until it finally did.

  So much for spectacle.

  A sudden commotion snapped me out of it.

  Echoing through the shattered remains of the House of Cherry Blossoms was the crying of courtesans.

  I turned toward the sound just in time to see several constables emerge from the building, their expressions grim. Behind them, barely wrapped in cloth, was a body. It was thin and desiccated, with skin clinging to bone as if all vitality had been drained away long ago.

  The women of the courtesan house collapsed into sobs at the sight.

  “Madam—!”

  “Lady Weng…!”

  Their voices broke as they reached for the corpse, only to be held back gently by the constables.

  Weng Xia.

  Or rather… what was left of her.

  Weng Xia had been dried and emptied, like a husk discarded once it had served its purpose. I could almost imagine the face ripped off her, so that the spider demon could wear it.

  So Min Chow hadn’t been lying after all.

  I left without a word.

  I didn’t think anyone noticed at first. The crying swallowed everything from the wails of the courtesans, the shuffling boots of the constables, and the low murmur of orders being issued. I slipped through the gaps like I’d done a thousand times before, head lowered, and shoulders tight.

  “Senior!”

  Tao Fang’s voice caught up to me before I reached the street.

  He jogged over, slightly out of breath. “Is something wrong?”

  I forced a smile. One I’d practiced for years, the kind that convinced chat and sponsors alike that everything was under control.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I said lightly. “I’m just tired. Let’s go back to the inn.”

  He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. You did well today. Another heroic deed.”

  Heroic.

  I didn’t say anything to that.

  On the walk back, my thoughts refused to quiet. The idea that I could’ve done better kept surfacing, again and again. Maybe if I’d noticed sooner. Maybe if I’d been more ruthless. Maybe if I hadn’t wasted time playing talent judge.

  But I knew the truth.

  This wasn’t something I could’ve fixed cleanly. Even if I’d arrived earlier, there was no guarantee Weng Xia would’ve survived. The world didn’t bend just because I wanted a better outcome.

  “Excuses,” the Yakuza Man inside me sneered. “Weak mind.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  That voice was getting louder and clearer, recently. Less like a borrowed persona and more like something that was growing roots inside my head. It irritated me. No, worse… It unsettled me.

  This was the first time I’d killed something intelligent. Something that thought, planned, and remembered. So yeah, it was unpleasant.

  If I was given the same situation again, I knew I’d still swing the bat.

  But knowing that didn’t make it simple.

  Back in my room at the Red Ember Inn, I shut the door and slid down to sit in the corner, my back against the wall. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that made thoughts echo.

  I took out the journal Meng Rong had given me.

  The cover was plain, worn, and was nothing special.

  Inside was Min Chow’s life.

  She wrote about the Dark Forest, about being a weak spider, hunted by stronger kin, and was forced to flee. About being captured when she was young, refined like a material instead of a living thing. Dark arts. Forced transformation. A body stolen from its own nature.

  A demonic faction that wanted everything from her.

  I didn’t feel sympathy.

  But as I kept reading, I felt something else creeping in.

  It was pity.

  Was it her fault to be born a spider demon?

  I couldn’t forgive what she’d done. I wouldn’t. But I couldn’t deny that her life had been a chain of choices made by others.

  Then the word appeared again.

  “Meteor Child.”

  She’d come to Xincheng to wait for it.

  A year and a half ago.

  However, something changed.

  The entries that followed talked about Weng Xia. About taking her place. About learning how to run the House of Cherry Blossoms. About the women there, how they laughed, how they argued, how they shared tea and complaints and small joys.

  It sounded… peaceful.

  I frowned and turned a page, only to realize the journal was thicker than it should’ve been. There was magic here, preserving more than ink.

  She wrote about suppressing her hunger. About learning restraint. About growing used to Xincheng.

  No wonder.

  When I fought her, she’d felt off. Strong, but not at her peak. I’d thought it was just my gear, and my combos.

  Maybe it was also because she’d starved herself.

  I flipped to the back.

  It was filled with doodles such as clumsy sketches of spiders, flowers, and crooked faces with exaggerated smiles. The kind of drawings a child might make when bored.

  My chest felt tight.

  I closed the journal slowly.

  Every person in this world had a story. Even monsters.

  Since I’d arrived here, I couldn’t pretend this was just YKU with better graphics.

  This world was real, just as much was the world where I came from.

  When I flipped to the next page, the journal twitched.

  That was the only way I could describe it.

  The paper rippled like disturbed water, the ink rearranging itself into dense geometric patterns. There were circles within triangles, spirals intersecting straight lines, and symbols layered over symbols, as if someone had tried to cram an entire philosophy into a single page.

  My vision blurred as the system reacted.

  [Heaven-Silk Art]

  I blinked.

  “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Skill books existed in YKU, sure, but this? This was way too on the nose. The journal wasn’t just a diary. Instead, it was a disguised cultivation manual. No wonder Meng Rong had handed it to me so casually. That woman never did anything so simply.

  I focused, and the description unfolded in my mind.

  [A secret art created from the fusion of a Spider Demon’s innate web-weaving bloodline arts and the Heavenly Demonic Cult’s heaven-defying qi method. This art allows the wielder to refine silk-like energy with adhesive and binding properties.]

  My lips curled despite myself.

  “That’s… actually kind of sick.”

  So this was Min Chow’s real legacy. Not just trauma and blood, but something she’d refined, something she’d left behind deliberately.

  Then the cost appeared.

  My expression froze.

  In YKU, learning special moves always came at a price in the form stat points. They were shaved off to pay for power. I’d hated it then, but at least there were items, exploits, and grind routes to compensate.

  Here?

  Here, stats were my body.

  I hesitated.

  Losing stats now wasn’t just numbers going down. It was becoming slower. Less sharp. Less me.

  But the level cap was gone. Growth wasn’t boxed in anymore. If there was ever a time to gamble, it was now.

  I exhaled slowly.

  “…Fine.”

  I accepted.

  The system didn’t hesitate.

  [-5 Awesomeness]

  [-10 Swiftness]

  Pain lanced through my legs, sharp and immediate, like someone had poured lead into my muscles. My balance wavered, and I had to brace a hand against the wall.

  “Yeah,” I muttered through clenched teeth, “that hurts.”

  When the sensation passed, I checked my status.

  [NAME: YAKUZA MAN]

  [LEVEL: 136]

  Health: 100%

  Energy: 100%

  Awesomeness: 50

  Swiftness: 32

  Toughness: 42

  Life Token: 2 / 3

  I flexed my fingers.

  The loss was real, but something else pulsed beneath my skin, thin and tensile, like invisible threads coiled around my qi.

  Curious, I stood and pressed one foot against the wall.

  Qi flowed instinctively.

  The moment my sole touched the surface, something stuck.

  “…Oh?”

  I took a step and another.

  Soon, I was walking up the wall as casually as if it were the floor, my coat hanging downward, gravity politely ignored. I kept going until my head brushed the ceiling, and then I was upside down, staring at my own room from a new perspective.

  A short laugh escaped me.

  “This is… actually fun.”

  The silk-like energy hummed, anchoring me effortlessly. For a brief moment, the heaviness in my chest lifted.

  Then my Energy tanked, fast.

  “Ah—shit.”

  The threads destabilized. My footing vanished, and the world flipped violently as I lost control of the technique.

  I fell, face first.

  The impact knocked the breath out of me, and I groaned into the floorboards. My cheek throbbed, dignity bruised beyond repair.

  “…Worth it,” I muttered.

  I planted a hand against the floor, rolled with the momentum, and flipped back onto my feet in one smooth motion. Reflex. Muscle memory. At least that hadn’t left me.

  I looked at the journal in my hands.

  Min Chow’s art.

  Yeah.

  Hunting that spider demon had been worth it after all, regardless the heartache it caused me.