Li Yao was refining a new batch of balm when his enhanced senses screamed a warning. It wasn't a sound, but a shift in the ambient Qi—a controlled, arrogant aura approaching the Vermin's Nest, cutting through the chaotic energy of the slum like a hot knife through butter.
Wang Jin.
He was alone. And he was coming directly for him.
"Gor," Li Yao said, his voice low and urgent. "Take the others and leave. Now."
Gor, who was grinding herbs, looked up and saw the look on Li Yao's face. He understood. "We can fight. There are three of us."
"He's a Late Essence Gathering cultivator now," Li Yao said flatly. "You're mortals. He could break your bodies without touching you. Go. This is my problem."
After a tense moment, Gor nodded grimly. He gathered Fen and Boulder, and they melted into the labyrinthine alleys.
Li Yao stood alone in his makeshift apothecary. He felt a cold calm settle over him. He had known this day would come. He finished sealing the jar of balm and set it aside neatly.
Wang Jin stepped into the cleared space, his fine blue silks immaculate, a stark contrast to the surrounding squalor. He looked at Li Yao with open contempt, his gaze sweeping over the ceramic bowls, the hanging herbs, the organized clutter.
"Playing house, I see," Wang Jin said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You've made yourself quite the little nest down here with the other vermin."
Li Yao said nothing. He just watched, his body relaxed but ready. The System was running multiple combat simulations in the background of his mind.
"Threat Analysis: Wang Jin. Late Essence Gathering Realm. Energy reserves: 450% of Host's. Probable Techniques: Basic energy projection, enhanced physical strikes. Weakness: Over-reliance on brute force, predictable attack patterns based on hierarchical mindset."
"I must admit, I'm impressed," Wang Jin continued, taking a slow step forward. "To go from a piece of trash to... a slightly more organized piece of trash. You even managed to form a core. Tell me, rat. What did you find? An old manual? A dying hermit's inheritance? Spit it out, and I might only break your legs."
Li Yao finally spoke, his voice quiet but clear. "I found motivation."
Wang Jin's smirk vanished. The air grew cold. "You think you're clever? You stand there, in the filth you were born from, and you mock your betters?" He raised his hand, and a visible, shimmering blade of compressed air formed above his palm. It was crude, but it was a manifestation of external energy—a power of the Late Sub-Realm. "Let me remind you of your place."
He flicked his wrist. The air blade shot towards Li Yao's leg, fast and sharp, meant to cripple.
This was the moment. Li Yao couldn't match Wang Jin's power. He couldn't block it. So he didn't try.
The System had predicted this exact attack vector. As Wang Jin flicked his wrist, Li Yao was already moving. He didn't dodge back or to the side. He dropped into a low, forward slide, under the path of the air blade.
The move was ungainly, covered his rags in mud, but it was effective. The blade whistled over his head and shattered a clay pot behind him.
Wang Jin's eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second. That was all Li Yao needed. He came up from the slide within Wang Jin's guard. He didn't throw a punch. He couldn't hope to injure him. Instead, he planted his palm squarely on Wang Jin's chest and released a technique the System had designed for this exact scenario.
[Spiritual Static Pulse].
It wasn't an attack. It was a disruption. A single, high-frequency burst of raw, unfocused Qi, designed not to damage, but to momentarily jam the target's spiritual circulation.
Wang Jin grunted, stumbling back a step. The elegant flow of his energy stuttered. The next air blade he was forming fizzled out in his hand. It was like a singer having their breath caught in their throat. It was deeply unsettling, a violation of the "proper" way to fight.
"You... you dare!" Wang Jin roared, his face contorted with rage and confusion. He lashed out with a wild, energy-infused punch.
Li Yao was already gone, using the enhanced reflexes of his Mid Sub-Realm to dance back out of range. He was breathing heavily. The [Spiritual Static Pulse] had cost him nearly a third of his energy reserves.
The fight was a farce. Wang Jin was a lion, powerful and roaring. Li Yao was a mosquito, evading and delivering tiny, irritating stings. He couldn't win. But he could avoid losing. For now.
He dodged another blast of energy, the force of it tearing up the ground where he'd been standing.
"You can't run forever, rat!" Wang Jin screamed, his composure shattered.
"I don't have to," Li Yao said, stopping suddenly. He pointed behind Wang Jin.
Wang Jin, conditioned by arrogance, half-turned.
It was a cheap trick. A distraction. But in that split second, Li Yao turned and ran, not deeper into the slum, but towards the main city. Towards the crowded markets, towards the guards, towards the light.
Wang Jin realized the deception and let out a cry of pure fury. He gave chase, but Li Yao, fueled by desperation and a profound knowledge of the city's underbelly, was like a ghost. He slipped through gaps Wang Jin couldn't, used laundry lines and low roofs to change direction, and vanished into the bustling evening crowd of the merchant district.
Wang Jin stood at the edge of the slum, his chest heaving, his robes slightly disheveled. He hadn't landed a single blow. He had been made a fool of. By a servant. In front of no one, but he felt the eyes of the entire city on him.
The lesson had been taught, but not by him. The lesson was that the rat was clever, unpredictable, and refused to play by the rules of the hierarchy.
He turned and stalked back into the Vermin's Nest. He found Li Yao's apothecary and, with a roar of unleashed energy, reduced it to splinters and dust.
It was a petty, empty victory. He knew, and Li Yao knew, that the real battle had just begun. And the rat was still out there, learning, adapting, and building his foundation one piece of garbage at a time. The slow burn of the ascent continued, now fueled by a very personal, very cold fire.