Zhao Long was the happiest he'd been in a long while. A genuine smile stretched across his face as he walked through the university grounds, flanked by his two most loyal henchmen.
Two years ago, when he'd first arrived at Tianlong University as a student at the seventh level of Qi Gathering, Zhao Long had quickly understood how things really worked.
Talent and hard work? Those were for fools. What mattered was finding the right connections, and building the right network of people willing to bend or break the rules.
He'd formed his own little gang soon after, a group of like-minded students who helped each other "acquire" cultivation resources from weaker classmates, eliminated obstacles to their growth, and took whatever they wanted from those too powerless to resist. Women included.
For a while, it had been glorious. His cultivation had advanced rapidly thanks to stolen spirit stones and pills.
He'd enjoyed every pleasure the university had to offer, and anyone who complained found themselves nursing broken bones, or worse, dead.
But recently, his luck had dried up. He'd fallen out of favor with some of his more powerful backers after a particularly messy incident that had drawn too much attention from the university administration.
The flow of resources had slowed to a trickle. Now he was in his third year, still stuck at the third level of Foundation Establishment while his former peers advanced past him. The shame of it burned constantly.
Then, out of nowhere, a ray of hope appeared on his phone just a few minutes ago.
An anonymous message, encrypted and untraceable, with an urgent request.
The job was simple. Put the fear of the heavens into a specific freshman. Rough him up, make sure he understood his place in the university hierarchy, and ensure he knew that there were consequences for getting too proud.
And the pay? Generous didn't begin to cover it. Five hundred spirit stones just for intimidating one weakling. Zhao Long had accepted immediately.
He'd called up his two most reliable henchmen. Thugs who asked no questions and followed orders without hesitation.
Now they were heading to the main cafeteria, where his mysterious benefactor had said the target would be eating lunch.
"I'm telling you," Zhao Long laughed, his voice full of confidence, "this is the easiest money we'll ever make. Five hundred spirit stones for scaring a freshman! We'll be done in five minutes."
The shorter of his henchmen, a stocky youth with a broken nose, looked skeptical. "Sounds too good to be true, boss. What if it's a trap? Or what if this freshman is actually dangerous?"
Zhao Long snorted derisively. "Dangerous? The kid's in the fourth level of Qi Gathering. Fourth level! Most freshmen worth knowing are at ninth level or Foundation Establishment by now. This guy is garbage-tier. Probably some rich family's disappointing son who bought his way in."
They pushed through the cafeteria doors, and the noise of hundreds of students eating and talking washed over them.
Zhao Long's eyes scanned the crowd until they locked onto his target. A young man with black hair and striking blue eyes, sitting alone by the windows, eating contentedly.
The face matched the picture that had been included in the message.
"There," Zhao Long said, pointing. "That's him. Wang Hu, smash his table. Let's make an entrance."
Wang Hu, the taller and more muscular of the two henchmen, grinned wickedly.
He cracked his knuckles and began walking towards Ye Chen's table, spiritual energy gathering visibly around his right hand.
The qi condensed and hardened, his fist beginning to glow with a pale blue light as he activated his main technique, Iron Mountain Fist, a basic but effective First Grade combat art.
Students nearby quieted as they noticed the gathering energy and quickly moved away, creating a clear space around Ye Chen's table.
Wang Hu's fist shot forward with explosive force, slamming into the table with a thunderous crash.
Ye Chen scrambled backward, looking up at the grinning thug standing where his table used to be.
"Hello, freshman," Wang Hu said, his voice dripping with malicious amusement as spiritual energy still crackled around his fist.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Ye Chen turned to see another young man walking towards him with the confident swagger of someone used to intimidation.
This one was clearly the leader, with his two companions flanking him like loyal dogs. His eyes held the cold calculation of someone who enjoyed causing pain.
"Who are you?" Ye Chen demanded, eyes narrowing.
The leader laughed. "Me? I'm Zhao Long. Third year student. But all you need to know, freshman, is that you need to pay protection fees if you want to avoid getting hurt."
He cracked his knuckles meaningfully. "Five hundred spirit stones. Right now."
Ye Chen thought about it. This couldn't be a coincidence. He'd only been on campus for a few hours, and already he was being shaken down for exactly five hundred spirit stones?
This had Wu Tao's fingerprints all over it. The professor had wasted no time putting pressure on him, demonstrating exactly how unpleasant life could become without powerful backing.
Ye Chen clenched his fists, weighing his options.
He could refuse, fight back, and make a scene. But he was still only at the fourth level of Qi Gathering.
These three had to be Foundation Establishment cultivators. The gap between realms was enormous. He'd be crushed.
Better to lose this battle and live to win the war. He had the system. He had time. He could afford to bend now and strike back later when he was stronger.
"Fine," Ye Chen said, nodding reluctantly. "I'll pay."
Zhao Long's grin widened, but there was no satisfaction in his eyes, only cruelty.
"You took too long to answer, freshman. So you're going to pay, and get beat up anyway. Consider it a lesson about respect."
He gestured casually to his henchmen. "Boys, teach him some manners."
Wang Hu and the other thug moved simultaneously, their fists glowing with spiritual energy as they launched techniques at Ye Chen from different angles.
Ye Chen's body moved on pure instinct.
He twisted, ducked, and rolled, moving fluidly despite his low cultivation level.
Wang Hu's Iron Mountain Fist whistled past his ear, missing by inches. The other henchman's kick sailed over his head as Ye Chen dropped into a crouch.
The memories and muscle training of this body's original owner were paying dividends.
The previous Ye Chen had been weak in cultivation, yes, but he'd compensated by becoming exceptionally good at one thing.
Not getting hit.
Years of being bullied had honed his dodging skills to a razor's edge.
"What the—" Wang Hu growled in frustration, launching another strike.
Ye Chen rolled sideways, avoiding it by a hair's breadth. The cafeteria had fallen completely silent now, hundreds of eyes watching the confrontation.
Zhao Long's expression darkened with irritation as his henchmen continued to swing at empty air. "Useless! Both of you are useless! I'll handle this myself."
Purple qi began to gather around Zhao Long's right arm, writhing and coiling like a storm.
The spiritual energy took on an ominous quality, seeming to poison the very air around it.
Gasps rippled through the watching crowd.
"That's Scorpion Sting!"
"Zho Long's using a Second Grade combat art against a freshman?!"
"That technique is vicious! The pain is supposed to be unbearable, and it injects poisonous qi that lingers for days!"
Zhao Long's grin turned savage. The purple energy condensed further, forming a toxic coating over his fist that seemed to shimmer with malevolent intent.
Then he activated a movement technique.
His body blurred, crossing the distance to Ye Chen in the blink of an eye, far too fast for someone at Ye Chen's level to dodge.
The purple fist shot forward like a striking scorpion, aimed directly at Ye Chen's chest.
CRASH!