The door was barred. The windows were covered with thick rags to stifle the light—and the screams.
Jin Ryeong laid his tools out on a strip of clean white linen. The thirty silver needles glinted in the dying firelight like the teeth of a small, metallic beast. Beside them sat the vial of Fire Ant Oil, glowing a viscous, sinister red.
"Senior Brother," Jin Ryeong whispered, shaking the sleeping mound of muscle on the bed.
Ma Goo snorted, swatting the air with a meaty hand. "Five more minutes... I don't want to train..."
"Senior Brother," Jin Ryeong hissed, his voice cutting through the fog of sleep. "If you want to be lightning, we must begin now. The treatment takes hours, and the sun will rise soon."
Ma Goo's eyes snapped open. The word "lightning" bypassed his brain and went straight to his greed. He sat up, groggy but eager, wiping a string of drool from his chin.
"Is it time?" Ma Goo asked, his voice thick with sleep. "Do you have the stuff?"
"I do." Jin Ryeong held up a single silver needle. It was long, thin, and terrifyingly sharp.
Ma Goo paled, shrinking back against the grimy headboard. "Needles? You didn't use needles before. You just used your hands."
"To fix a bone, I use hands," Jin Ryeong explained, adopting the cold, clinical tone of a master physician—a persona he had perfected to manipulate the arrogant. "But to rewire your nervous system? To make you react faster than a striking snake? I need to go deeper. I need to stimulate the 'Gate of Life' meridians directly."
"Will it hurt?" Ma Goo asked, looking like a scared child trapped in a giant's body.
Jin Ryeong uncorked the vial. The smell of sulfur and concentrated chili pepper filled the small room, stinging their eyes. He dipped the tip of the needle into the red oil.
"Pain is the body's way of saying it is changing, Senior Brother," Jin Ryeong said softly. "If you want to be a Core Disciple, you must embrace it. The Dragon sheds its scales in agony to grow new, harder ones. Are you a Dragon, or are you a worm?"
Ma Goo swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed. His fear warred with his ambition. Ambition won.
"I am a Dragon," Ma Goo declared, though his voice trembled. "Do it."
Ma Goo stripped off his tunic and lay on his stomach. His back was a broad landscape of muscle, fat, and old scars from years of clumsy fighting.
Jin Ryeong took a deep breath. He focused his mind, activating his greatest weapon.
[System Activation: Diagnosis Eye]
The world shifted. The dim room was overlaid with a holographic grid. Red lines appeared over Ma Goo's back, highlighting the hidden rivers of Qi and the nervous system flowing beneath the skin.
[Target: Ma Goo]
[Objective: Increase Agility / Reaction Speed]
[Method: Nervous System Overclocking]
[Catalyst: Fire Ant Oil (Stimulant)]
[Risk: High. Excessive stimulation can cause permanent tremors or nerve damage.]
Jin Ryeong read the risk assessment and dismissed it. He didn't care about tremors. He cared about the win. Ma Goo was a rental car; Jin Ryeong intended to drive him until the engine exploded.
He held the first needle. He didn't have much Qi—only 1 point remaining after the market escape—but the needles acted as conductors. They would focus his energy into microscopic points, bypassing the need for brute force.
Prick.
He inserted the first needle at the base of Ma Goo's neck, right into the C7 vertebra gap.
"Gah!" Ma Goo flinched violently, his back arching. "It burns! It feels like a bee sting!"
"Stay still," Jin Ryeong commanded, his voice turning iron-hard. "If you move, the needle might slip and paralyze you. Do you want to be a cripple?"
That froze him. Ma Goo lay rigid, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white.
Prick. Prick. Prick.
Jin Ryeong worked with terrifying speed and precision. He inserted needles along the spine, down the lats, and into the heavy muscles of the hamstrings. He was creating a circuit—a new roadmap for energy to flow faster than nature intended.
The Fire Ant Oil seeped into the pores, inflaming the nerves, putting them on a hair-trigger alert. The skin around the insertion points turned an angry, inflamed red.
[Item Synergy Detected: Silver Needles + Fire Ant Oil]
[Effect: Nerve Conductivity +15% / Pain Sensitivity +50%]
Ma Goo was biting his pillow to stop from screaming. His muscles rippled and spasmed under the silver forest growing on his back. Sweat pooled on the floor beneath him, smelling of fear and toxins.
"It's too hot!" Ma Goo muffled a scream into the fabric. "My back is on fire! Take them out! Please!"
"That heat is the speed entering your body," Jin Ryeong lied, wiping sweat from his own brow. "Focus on the fire. Push it to your limbs. Own it."
Jin Ryeong placed his hands over the array of needles. Now, he had to activate the circuit.
[Innate Ability Activated: Wicked Healing.]
He poured his remaining 1 point of Qi and a massive chunk of his physical stamina into the needles. The sickly green light of his healing flared, conducting through the silver, mixing with the red oil to create a disturbing, pulsating purple aura.
ZZZZT.
A visible spark of static electricity jumped from Ma Goo's skin to Jin Ryeong's fingers.
[Ding!]
[Procedure Successful: Nerve Overclocking.]
[Target: Ma Goo]
[Result: Agility +2 (Temporary: 24 Hours) / Reaction Speed +10%]
[Side Effect: Target will suffer muscle spasms after the duration ends.]
[Reward: +70 XP]
Jin Ryeong pulled his hands back, his vision swimming. He swayed, catching himself on the bedframe to keep from collapsing. He was exhausted. His stamina bar was blinking red, warning of imminent fainting. He felt hollowed out, as if he had run ten miles.
"Done," Jin Ryeong wheezed.
Ma Goo lay there for a moment, panting, steam actually rising from his back in the cool night air. Then, he twitched.
He moved his hand to scratch his nose.
It happened so fast it was a blur.
Ma Goo froze. He looked at his hand. He moved it again. Swish.
He sat up, his movements jerky, unnatural, but terrifyingly fast. Like a marionette pulled by a manic puppeteer.
"I..." Ma Goo looked at Jin Ryeong with wide, crazed eyes. "I feel... jittery. Like there are bugs under my skin. But... I feel fast. I feel like I can catch a fly in mid-air."
"You are fast," Jin Ryeong said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his chest heaving. "Rest now. Let the oil settle. Tomorrow... you will tear them apart."
Ma Goo nodded, admiring his vibrating hands. He didn't even thank Jin Ryeong. He just lay back down, staring at his fingers, dreaming of glory.
Jin Ryeong closed his eyes, darkness taking him. He didn't sleep peacefully. He dreamed of being a spider, weaving a web of silver needles, waiting for a fly big enough to feed him.
The next morning, the atmosphere in the arena had shifted completely.
The riff-raff had been eliminated. Only the Top 8 remained. The stands were no longer filled with just rowdy outer disciples and servants.
High above, in the VIP box shaded by azure silk awnings, sat the Elders.
They wore the azure robes of the Inner Sect, embroidered with silver dragons that seemed to writhe in the sunlight. Their presence pressed down on the arena like a physical weight. They were the scouters. They were looking for the next generation of elites to bring glory to the Blue Dragon Sect.
Jin Ryeong stood in the servant's pit, squinting against the sun. He looked terrible. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. He had eaten a stale bun for breakfast to recover some stamina, but his Qi was still at 0/1. He hadn't used a pill; he was saving them for an emergency.
"Next Match: Quarter-Finals!"
"Ma Goo (The Iron Fist) versus Zhao Feng (The Gale Kicker)!"
Ma Goo stepped onto the stage. He was vibrating. Literally vibrating. His neck twitched to the left every few seconds. To the uninitiated, it looked like intense battle spirit, an overflowing of Qi. To Jin Ryeong, it looked like a side effect.
Zhao Feng was a tall, long-legged fighter known for his aerial kicks. He looked at Ma Goo with disdain, crossing his arms.
"You got lucky yesterday with that stumble, fatty. Do you really think tricks will work in the Quarter-Finals?"
"I don't need tricks," Ma Goo twitched, his voice tight and strained. "I am lightning."
"Begin!"
Zhao Feng leaped. It was a beautiful, soaring arc. He aimed a heel drop at Ma Goo's head—a technique known as the 'Falling Eagle'. It was fast. Faster than Li. It was a move that usually ended matches instantly.
Usually, Ma Goo would brace and tank the hit with his thick skull.
But today, Ma Goo's nerves were screaming. His body reacted before his brain even registered the threat.
Zip.
Ma Goo didn't just dodge; he convulsed sideways. It wasn't a technique; it was a spasm. The kick slammed into the dirt where he had been a millisecond before, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Zhao Feng landed, his eyes widening in surprise. "What—"
Ma Goo was already there. He didn't wind up. He didn't use a stance. He just snapped his fist forward, powered by the spasming muscles in his back.
BAM.
It was a short jab, but the unnatural speed added kinetic mass. It caught Zhao Feng in the ribs.
Crack.
The sound of fracturing bone echoed through the silent arena.
Zhao Feng gasped, his eyes bulging, folding in half as the air left his lungs.
Ma Goo didn't stop. The oil was burning him. The energy trapped in his nerves needed a release. He became a blur of violence.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
A flurry of punches. Sloppy, uncoordinated, ugly... but blazingly fast. Zhao Feng was overwhelmed. He couldn't find an opening to kick because Ma Goo was swarming him like a cloud of angry hornets. Every time Zhao Feng tried to move, Ma Goo twitched and struck him first.
"Ring out!" The referee shouted, stepping in to save the kicker from permanent damage.
Ma Goo's final punch sent Zhao Feng tumbling out of the ring boundaries, coughing up blood, clutching his shattered ribs.
"Winner: MA GOO!"
The crowd roared, but this time, the roar was different. It wasn't amusement. It wasn't mockery. It was shock. It was fear.
"Since when is Ma Goo that fast?"
"Did he eat a pill?"
"Look at his eyes! He looks possessed!"
Ma Goo stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, his hands still trembling uncontrollably. He looked up at the VIP box, searching for approval.
Up in the box, an Elder with a long white beard leaned forward, his tea cup pausing halfway to his lips.
Elder Baek. The Master of the Medicine Hall.
His eyes weren't looking at Ma Goo's fist. They were looking at Ma Goo's back. Even through the robes, his experienced eyes—honed by fifty years of medical cultivation—could see the unnatural tension in the meridian lines. He could see the faint, lingering trace of inflammation.
"Interesting," Elder Baek murmured, his voice barely audible over the crowd. "That is not natural cultivation. That involves... stimulation."
He shifted his gaze. He looked past the victorious, twitching brute. He looked down into the dirt pit where the servants stood.
He saw a frail boy with bandaged arms, looking at the ground, trying desperately to be invisible. A boy whose aura was strangely depleted, as if he had poured his life into someone else.
Elder Baek's eyes narrowed. He recognized the look of a craftsman admiring his work.
"Boy," Elder Baek whispered to himself. "What did you do to that bear?"