006 Still the Mountain is a Mountain
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A man blocked the way, brandishing a gleaming watermelon knife. He asked, “Kid, got any money? Lend me some!”
Though he called it a loan, it was clearly a mugging.
Yang Tang felt a jolt of tension but didn’t reply immediately. Instead, using the faint light in the distance, he took a quick look at the assailant and realized it was two delinquent students, unfamiliar faces, likely from a nearby school.
“What’s this? Not talking? If you’re silent, that means you’ve got money.”
The student with the watermelon knife moved closer to Yang Tang, the blade flashing before his eyes in a blatant threat.
To say Yang Tang wasn’t afraid at all would be a lie. Even though he had been reborn and carried twenty more years of life experience, facing a reckless teenager with a knife still made his heart pound. But he wasn’t as fearful as an ordinary student might be in this situation. In fact, he was evaluating whether these two were alone, or if there were more waiting in the shadows.
If it was just these two, Yang Tang could try grabbing the knife and fighting back, or simply dash away. But if there were others, that strategy probably wouldn’t work. The idea of taking on a whole group flitted through his mind for a moment before he dismissed it outright—such an act wasn’t wise. Even if he managed to seriously hurt one, he’d likely be injured himself, potentially get a demerit at school, and jeopardize his college entrance exams.
However, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—if only he had Bruce Lee’s skills, he wouldn’t have to fear this predicament. That thought brought back the strange realization he’d had earlier.
What the heart seeks: to escape danger and protect one’s life!
Unable to help himself, Yang Tang muttered, “Why just survive? What I want is—”
“Bang!” The student with the knife punched Yang Tang hard on the shoulder. “What’s your problem? I asked if you have money. Want me to cut you?”
“I don’t have any!” The pain snapped Yang Tang back, and his temper flared. He shot back, “Besides, these streets belong to Shi High. Da Fei and his crew run this area. Who are you?”
“Oh? You know Da Fei?” The knife-wielding student, about to hit Yang Tang again, suddenly let out a strange laugh and reached out to slap Yang Tang’s cheek, sneering, “I know Da Fei’s mother, too!”
Smack!
Yang Tang slapped the student’s dirty hand away, only to get kicked in the rear by the other delinquent behind him. Fury surged within him, along with a sudden realization: true invisibility is blending in, not standing out with maturity or stoic restraint that makes him different from other high schoolers. Right now, facing a knife-wielding thug, fighting back is the real answer.
With this clarity, Yang Tang was just about to strike when a shadow darted out from the roadside. With a flying kick, the newcomer struck the knife-wielding student in the side, then pounced, raining heavy blows on the student’s head. “You know my mother, do you? Know my mother, do you?!”
“Da Fei?!” Yang Tang instantly recognized the figure.
“Come on!” Da Fei called to Yang Tang, snatching the watermelon knife from the attacker and dashing toward Shi High.
Yang Tang hurried after him. They’d only run a few steps before hearing a group of students cursing from the roadside, “Son of a bitch! Da Fei actually beat up the punk with the knife for that kid. Is he crazy?!”
“Chase them! Hack them both up!”
Damn, there really are more of them!
Swearing inwardly, Yang Tang ran even faster.
Da Fei, whose real name was Cheng Yufei, was already a top sprinter at Shi High, and Yang Tang had also stood on the podium for the 400 meters at the school games. The two of them ran for their lives, and not even the group of delinquents could catch up as they dashed into the school gates.
The school security guard saw Da Fei carrying the watermelon knife and was startled, gripping his baton. “Which class are you two from?”
Da Fei didn’t bother explaining. He tossed the knife to the guard, along with two cigarettes. “Why so many questions?”
The guard, recognizing both boys as students from his school, wisely said no more and let them pass.
Once they’d walked a ways into the school, Yang Tang said, “Thanks, Da Fei. But you don’t live in the dorms—what if those guys ambush the gates after night class? What will you do then?”
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I’ll call Jian Ren and the others. Nothing will happen,” Da Fei replied, unconcerned.
Hearing the nickname “Jian Ren,” Yang Tang winced. Jian Ren’s real name was Luo Jian. He was a repeat student, practically a fifth- or sixth-year senior, a genuine lowlife. He relied on his father, Shi High’s dean, to stay in school for years, doing nothing but recruiting other aimless students for some so-called future big plans.
Yang Tang had no desire to associate with such people and wanted to advise Da Fei to stop hanging out with them. But in the end, he simply said, “All right, let’s leave it for today. I’ll treat you to a meal next time.”
“Whatever. By the way, is your burn on your chest okay now?” Da Fei asked, then hesitated. “About the two hundred I borrowed yesterday, I might not be able to pay it back next week.”
Yang Tang had almost forgotten—the day before, after being burned and receiving compensation, he’d given Da Fei two hundred out of the two thousand yuan. He waved it off, unconcerned. “It’s fine.” With that, he headed toward the dormitory.
Don’t think Yang Tang was paying Da Fei protection money. Their relationship was far more complicated than that, and after the college entrance exams in his previous life, Da Fei had basically repaid all the money he’d borrowed in one go. Yang Tang didn’t care about such trivialities.
When Yang Tang returned to the dorm, his roommates Tang Xun and the others were still at evening study. Not waiting for them, he washed up and went straight to bed, planning to get some early rest. Little did he know, his absence from evening study would later be seen by Panda Li as “hopelessly unmotivated.”
Lying in bed, Yang Tang pressed his chest where the burn had been. There was no pain at all.
He was genuinely amazed. He’d just heard from Da Fei that he’d been burned yesterday, yet today he was fully healed. That defied explanation.
“Damn it, the wound is really better. But it hurt so much yesterday—it definitely wasn’t faked. Something’s strange here!”
“Wait a minute, that realization—what the heart seeks, holding the Ksitigarbha…”
“Might as well try. If nothing happens, it’s fine.”
Muttering to himself, Yang Tang pressed his hand in the darkness over the Ksitigarbha brand that had healed on his chest.
“Hmm, nothing’s happening.”
“Wasn’t it supposed to lead to a dream?”
“Looks like it was all in my head…”
He mumbled, and before he knew it, had fallen into a deep sleep.
Two merit points automatically converted into one Samsara Point, meeting the requirements to open the dream!
One Samsara Point consumed!
Verifying temporal phase…
Timing does not match. Only test dream mode can be activated!
Test dream mode opening count: zero. Activation possible!
Test dream mode commencing!
Dream opening…
“Huh? What is this…”
Yang Tang opened his eyes and found himself standing upright. Without thinking, he looked down—and was shocked to discover he had no legs.
“My legs—where are they?”
Startled, he twisted around and realized, to his horror, that he was floating in midair, legless.
No way, how is this possible? Wait, on my shoulders—those are…
It took him more than ten minutes to figure out his new identity.
He had become a male Asura assassin—specifically, he was now inside an ancient online game from his past life: Xuan Yuan Sword NN!
No way, hadn't it been almost twenty years since he played this game? How did he end up inside it?
Enlightenment surged up.
What the heart seeks: to escape danger and protect one’s life!
Because this was a test dream, the skill copying limit was set to five.
Searching for survival skills…
A string of realizations left Yang Tang dumbfounded. Is this for real? As he puzzled over this, a player named Eastgate Ruthless—a fellow Asura martial artist—ran over and double-clicked him.
Skill search complete. Killing the enemy, hiding oneself, enhancing defense, stunning the opponent—all could ensure survival.
Not necessarily, Yang Tang thought to himself.
Skills locked. Total of five: Scar Strike (Hidden Form), Camouflage (Hidden Form), Precision Shooting (Hidden Form), Tiger Subduing Skyward, Iron Cloth!
Tiger Subduing Skyward and Iron Cloth both needed to be copied from Eastgate Ruthless, requiring forty-five seconds per skill, multiplied by the current Samsara multiplier of one—forty-five seconds in total. He had to keep the player engaged for forty-five seconds without interruption.
Upon hearing this, Yang Tang, who vaguely remembered how Xuan Yuan Sword NN worked, silently cursed his luck. As a quest-giver NPC, he could only interact with players if they picked up his quest. How was he supposed to keep someone talking for forty-five seconds? The dialogue could be scrolled through instantly, or players could just click confirm or cancel. What now?
But soon, Yang Tang realized how clever he was. When Eastgate Ruthless double-clicked him, he replied, “Hmm, you! Ah, never mind!”
Eastgate Ruthless, catching on, selected the option to help Yang Tang. “Elder, do you need my assistance?”
“There is a task I need someone to complete,” Yang Tang replied.
Eastgate Ruthless was delighted. “What task?”
“First, let me test your patience,” Yang Tang said, switching to a trickster’s tone. “Remain silent for one minute.”
Sure enough, Eastgate Ruthless believed him and began waiting obediently.
At the same time, another realization surfaced in Yang Tang’s mind.
Iron Cloth copied!
Tiger Subduing Skyward copying in progress.
Ten seconds left to copy Tiger Subduing Skyward—nine, eight, seven, six…