The training arena was larger than Gu Wujiu had imagined.
It was a stone platform three hundred paces square, with no walls on any side. Along the edges was a waist-high barrier of black mist. The system said it was a restriction. Going out wouldn't kill them, but they would be marked as "eliminated," and their entire allotment for the month would be canceled.
In other words, leaving meant starving to death.
More than two hundred gray-robed disciples stood in the arena like a pot of water about to boil. Some were loosening their wrists, some were quietly forming alliances, and some had already locked onto their prey with their eyes. The air was thick with restless killing intent, mingled with the smell of sweat and fear.
Gu Wujiu stood at the very edge, with only three steps between his back and the mist barrier.
Zhou Xiao'an stood beside him, his face white as paper and both legs shaking like sifting grain.
"Remember what I taught you," Gu Wujiu said in a low voice, scanning the arena. "Once it starts, stick close to me. Wherever I run, you run. Don't stop, don't look back, and don't make eye contact with anyone."
"B-but—"
"No buts." He glanced at Zhou Xiao'an. "Do you want to make it back alive?"
Zhou Xiao'an nodded hard.
"Then shut up and run."
A gloomy voice rang across the entire arena from atop the high platform, as if seeping out of the stone walls. "The end-of-month assessment begins."
There was no countdown, no warning, not even the sound of a gong.
Just two words, and then the gates of hell opened.
The center of the arena exploded into chaos. The strongest fourth-level Qi Condensation practitioners struck first, blasting spiritual energy outward and blowing crater after crater into the stone platform. Some people screamed, some were sent flying, and some were smashed into the ground before they even had time to react.
Gu Wujiu didn't look that way.
He turned and ran.
Not toward the center of the arena, but along the edge of the mist barrier, keeping close to the black fog, hunched over like a rat slipping along the base of a wall.
Zhou Xiao'an froze for half a second, then took off after him.
"Host," the system said in his mind, its tone carrying a hint of gleeful amusement as it watched the show, "your running technique is probably unprecedented in the cultivation world."
"Only the living are qualified to talk about dignity."
After running about fifty paces, he reached the spot he'd picked out during his earlier scouting—a narrow gap between two boulders in the northeast corner of the training arena. The two rocks were part of the arena's foundation, each more than a person's height. The gap between them was just wide enough for two people to squeeze inside, but from the outside it looked like nothing more than a patch of shadow.
He grabbed Zhou Xiao'an and squeezed inside with him.
The gap was dark and cramped, offering only a small slice of the outside world. In the distance, the battle at the center had already reached its climax. Flashes of spiritual energy lit up the arena, and screams rose one after another.
Zhou Xiao'an's teeth chattered.
"Don't make a sound." Gu Wujiu pressed down on his shoulder, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. "Out there, the lions are fighting. We wait until the lions are done, then it's our turn."
"Our—our turn to do what?"
"Pick over the bones."
He leaned against the stone wall, closed his eyes, and began counting the time.
In his previous life, during that territory dispute in the urban village, he'd hidden inside a concrete pipe for forty minutes. After forty minutes, the people fighting outside had either fallen, grown exhausted, or run away. Those left were all at the end of their rope.
It was the same here. The two-hour assessment would be most intense in the first half. The third- and fourth-level Qi Condensation practitioners would wear each other down, the second-level practitioners would get caught in the crossfire, and the first-level practitioners—
"Host," the system suddenly said, its tone changing. "Someone's coming this way."
Gu Wujiu opened his eyes.
Outside the gap, a figure staggered toward them. His gray robe was covered in blood, and his left arm hung limp and useless, clearly broken. After a few steps, his leg gave out, and he fell less than ten paces from the gap.
Two people followed behind him at a leisurely pace, like cats toying with a mouse.
"P-please... I surrender..." the person on the ground rasped, his voice thick with sobs.
"Surrender?" The taller of the two pursuers chuckled. "Hand over that Qi-gathering talisman you're carrying, and I'll let you lose."
"I don't have one... I really don't..."
The tall man stomped on the person's broken left arm.
The scream rang out loud and clear inside the gap. Zhou Xiao'an curled into a ball and covered his mouth with both hands.
Gu Wujiu didn't move.
His fingers tapped lightly twice against his knee. His eyes remained fixed on the scene outside, his expression as calm as if he were watching a play that had nothing to do with him.
"Host," the system said quietly, "that person is also a Heart-Eater Sect disciple."
"I know."
"He's currently facing a difficulty."
"I know."
"Are you not planning to—"
"I am." Gu Wujiu replied in his mind. "Just not now."
He kept watching.
The tall man searched the injured disciple and, sure enough, pulled out a talisman. Once the two men had gotten what they wanted, they turned and left without much interest, not even bothering to kick him again.
The person on the ground lay there without moving, but he was still breathing.
Gu Wujiu waited another twenty breaths. Once he was certain the two men had gone far enough, he crawled out of the gap.
He crouched beside the injured disciple and lifted one of his eyelids. His pupils still reacted. He hadn't passed out—he was simply in too much pain to speak.
"His left arm is broken, and he may have two cracked ribs. The rest are superficial injuries," the system automatically reported. "He won't die, but if he isn't treated, he can forget about ever using that arm again."
Gu Wujiu pulled a fasting pill from inside his robe—one of the last two he had.
He looked at the pill, then at the person on the ground.
"Damn it."
He stuffed the pill into the man's mouth.
A fasting pill wasn't a healing medicine, but it could at least restore some strength and give him enough energy to crawl to the edge of the arena on his own.
"Host, a fasting pill can't set a bone."
"I know." He tore off part of his sleeve and roughly bound the man's broken arm in place. His technique was far from professional, but at least the bone wouldn't jostle around. In his previous life, he'd seen plenty of people break their hands in fights. Basic first aid was something he knew.
The man sucked in a sharp breath from the pain, but his eyes finally focused and recognized Gu Wujiu's face.
"You..."
"Don't talk. Save your strength." Gu Wujiu pulled him up and propped him against a rock. "Can you move?"
"I can... I can move..."
"Go south along the mist barrier. That's where the fighting is lightest. Crouch at the edge and don't move. Just hold out until the end."
The man opened and closed his mouth, seemingly wanting to say thank you, but Gu Wujiu had already turned and crawled back into the gap.
Ding—
"Merit Points +5." The system's voice rang out, its tone oddly nuanced. "Assisting an injured fellow disciple has been judged a minor good deed."
"Only five points?"
"You didn't heal him. You just stuffed a fasting pill into his mouth and tied a piece of cloth around him. In terms of medical standards, that was roughly equivalent to... a caveman."
"If you're so capable, you do it."
"I don't have hands."
Gu Wujiu couldn't be bothered to argue with it anymore. He leaned back against the stone wall.
The sounds of the battle outside gradually thinned. Through the narrow opening of the gap, the flashes of spiritual energy at the arena's center grew fewer and fewer, while plenty of people lay sprawled across the ground. Most of those still standing were panting heavily, their movements noticeably slower.
It was about time.
"How long has it been?"
"One hour and two quarters."
There was a little more than half an hour left. Less than half the people who had entered the arena were still standing, and most of them were injured. The strongest fourth-level Qi Condensation practitioners had nearly worn one another down and were now occupying their own patches of ground, licking their wounds.
This was the moment he'd been waiting for.
"Zhou Xiao'an." He patted the boy beside him, who was nearly scared witless. "Time to move."
"M-move where?"
"Out."
Zhou Xiao'an's eyes bulged like brass bells. "Out? Now?!"
"Now is the safest time to go out." Gu Wujiu poked his head out of the gap and quickly swept his gaze around. "Those who can fight are exhausted, and those who can't are down. Everyone still standing is busy catching their breath. No one has the energy to bother with us."
"B-but what if—"
"If someone comes looking for trouble," Gu Wujiu stood and brushed the dust from his clothes, "you stand behind me and shout one sentence."
"What sentence?"
"'Brother Ma Kui, this is the guy who stole my spirit stones!'"
Zhou Xiao'an stared at him blankly. "But... Ma Kui isn't here—"
"Whether he's here or not doesn't matter." Gu Wujiu's lips curled. "What matters is that whoever comes looking for trouble won't know whether he's here. They'll only think—does this kid have someone backing him? Is it worth provoking an uncertain problem over a first-level Qi Condensation nobody?"
He paused.
"The answer is always no. The assessment is almost over, and everyone only wants to protect what they've won. No one wants to cause extra trouble at the last moment."
Zhou Xiao'an stood there with his mouth open, looking as if he'd just attended a class on a subject he'd never heard of before.
"Th-this works?"
"In my previous life, there was a saying: 'The fox borrows the tiger's威.'" Gu Wujiu stepped out of the gap. "The tiger doesn't have to be there for the fox to use its power. The key is making everyone else think the tiger is there."
When they emerged from the gap, no one looked at them.
Everyone was busy with their own affairs—tending to their wounds, searching through the spoils, or continuing their wary standoffs. Two first-level Qi Condensation nobodies emerging from a corner were completely outside everyone's field of vision.
Gu Wujiu led Zhou Xiao'an slowly along the edge of the arena, neither hurried nor slow, his posture relaxed, like two people out for a stroll.
After about a hundred paces, he saw a familiar figure.
Ma Kui.
The bald, scar-faced man was leaning against a chunk of rubble. His gray robe was torn in several places, and there were a few more bloodstains on his face, but he still looked reasonably energetic. One of his two lackeys was missing, while the remaining short, fat man crouched beside him with a bluish complexion.
Ma Kui saw Gu Wujiu too.
Their eyes met for an instant across twenty paces.
A flicker of surprise passed through Ma Kui's eyes—this first-level Qi Condensation newcomer was still standing? Then came a trace of wariness, which finally shifted into an odd, indescribable expression.
He didn't move.
Neither did Gu Wujiu.
The two of them stared at each other for two seconds, then looked away at the same time, like two stray dogs passing each other in a narrow alley. They sniffed each other, decided the other wasn't worth biting, and went their separate ways.
"Host," the system said, unable to hide the amusement in its voice, "translated into plain English, that eye contact between you and Ma Kui just now meant: 'I won't mess with you, so don't mess with me. We're all just trying to survive.'"
"That's called rapport."
"That's called cowardice."
"The difference between cowardice and rapport is the outcome." Gu Wujiu continued walking. "A coward who lives is being strategic. A brave man who dies is just an idiot."
The final half hour seemed to stretch on forever.
Gu Wujiu led Zhou Xiao'an to a corner along the edge of the arena and crouched down, their backs against a rock, watching the last few scattered conflicts in the center slowly die out.
Zhou Xiao'an's legs had stopped shaking. He sneaked several glances at Gu Wujiu, moving his lips a few times before finally giving in.
"G-Gu, uh..."
"Don't call me Big Brother. It makes me sound like I'm in a gang."
"Then what should I call you?"
"Use my name."
"Gu Wujiu." Zhou Xiao'an said it earnestly, then added in a small voice, "Thank you."
Gu Wujiu didn't turn around.
"Thank me for what? You're my investment. Who am I supposed to collect my losses from?"
Zhou Xiao'an smiled. It was a tiny smile, like a weak little flame in winter.
That gloomy voice rang across the entire arena again. "The assessment is over."
Gu Wujiu stood and stretched his legs, numb from crouching.
He looked around. People were scattered across the ground, some moaning and some completely motionless. Only around seventy or eighty were still standing, and every one of them was injured, exhaustion and relief written across their faces.
As for him, he hadn't lost a single hair.
Ding—
The quest panel popped up:
Quest complete: Survive the Heart-Eater Sect's end-of-month assessment. Reward: Merit Points +20, fragment of a cultivation method (2/?) ×1. Additional assessment: Assisted an injured fellow disciple during the assessment. Merit Points have been settled. Note: Host completed the entire assessment with zero combat, zero injuries, and zero expenditure (except for one fasting pill). The system says... impressive. :)
Gu Wujiu stared at the final line, the corner of his mouth lifting before he realized it.
"Impressive? You do know how to compliment people?"
"That wasn't a compliment. It was shock." The system's tone was as complicated as a spice rack knocked onto the floor. "An assessment with two hundred people, and you were the only one who didn't throw a single punch from beginning to end. In the Heart-Eater Sect's three-hundred-year history, this is probably a first."
"Should I feel honored?"
"You should feel lucky." The system paused. "Because there's another assessment next month."
Gu Wujiu's smile froze on his face.
"And," the system continued, sounding cheerful enough to make someone want to strangle it, "next month's difficulty will be adjusted according to this month's performance. You didn't fight, but 'survival' itself counts as a performance. The system predicts that the probability of you being targeted next time will rise significantly."
"Why?"
"Because everyone will notice one thing—the first-level Qi Condensation newcomer walked out of the assessment arena without a scratch." The system's tone was meaningful. "In the Heart-Eater Sect, being too weak gets you bullied, while being too strong makes people wary. But the most dangerous thing is being impossible to read."
Gu Wujiu fell silent.
He looked at his clean gray robe, then at the disciples around him, all covered in blood.
Indeed. In the middle of such a mess, the only clean person was actually the most conspicuous.
"Damn it."
He cursed under his breath, then made a decision.
He bent down, grabbed a handful of bloody dirt from the ground, and smeared two streaks across his face. Then he rubbed his robe against the dirt a few times, adding several filthy patches.
Zhou Xiao'an's eyes widened. "W-what are you doing?"
"Putting on a show." Gu Wujiu straightened up. The mud and blood on his face made him look considerably more bedraggled. "Remember, in a place like this, being clean is a crime."
He limped toward the exit—his limp was fake, but he made it look convincing. After all, in his previous life, pretending to limp to avoid debt collectors had been basic training.
The system fell silent for a long time.
Then it said something without mockery or sarcasm, even sounding unusually serious—a tone Gu Wujiu had never heard from it before.
"Host, you're a truly interesting person."
Gu Wujiu didn't answer.
He limped into the mist, with Zhou Xiao'an following behind him, trying to imitate the limp but looking utterly ridiculous.
There was only one fasting pill left in his robes. Thirty-five Merit Points. Two fragments of a cultivation method. And one tagalong.
His situation was a tiny bit better than it had been three days ago.
Just a tiny bit.
But for Chen Hao, a tiny bit was enough.
The person who stays seated at the poker table the longest has never been the one with the best hand.
It's the one who knows how to wait.