The alley smelled of stale beer and despair, a fitting backdrop for Wei Chen’s life. At fourteen, he was a walking target—too fat, too quiet, too easy to break. His schoolbag, patched with duct tape, hung heavy as he trudged home, the bruise on his cheek throbbing from a bully’s fist. Another day, another beating, he thought, kicking a crushed can. Above, neon signs buzzed, advertising Eternal Crucible, the VRMMORPG that had the world in a chokehold. Not for losers like me.“Yo, Chen!” Liang Jun’s voice cut through the gloom, sharp and bright. The sixteen-year-old jogged up, his designer jacket a stark contrast to Wei Chen’s faded hoodie. His grin was all confidence, the kind only rich, handsome kids could afford. “Why the long face, little bro? Told you to dodge those punks.”Wei Chen shrugged, avoiding Jun’s gaze. “Easier said than done. They cornered me in the bathroom. And Dad’s probably drunk by now, so…” He trailed off, the weight of home—his father’s fists, his brother’s cruelty, his mother’s indifference—crushing him.Jun’s grin faded, but his eyes glinted with mischief. “Forget that crap. I’ve got a game-changer.” He slung an arm around Wei Chen’s shoulders, ignoring the flinch. “Eternal Crucible. You seen the hype? Cultivation, sects, battles to become a god. It’s like living in a xianxia novel, and we’re gonna dominate it.”Wei Chen snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, right. I suck at games, Jun. I’d just die and rage-quit. And my family’d kill me for wasting time.”Jun’s grin widened, like he’d been waiting for this. “That’s why I got us both VR pods. NexusCorp’s best, delivered to your place today. You and me, carving our names into the Ninefold Continent.”Wei Chen froze, his heart lurching. “You what?” His voice cracked, panic flooding his round face. “Are you nuts? Dad’ll smash it! Mom’ll sell it for cigs, and Tao—god, he’ll make my life hell just for looking at it!”Jun’s expression hardened, but his tone stayed smooth. “Chill, Chen. I paid off your folks. Dropped three grand on their bills—rent, utilities, the lot. Gave your mom extra to shut her up. Your dad won’t touch the pod; I told him it’s mine, and I’ve got lawyers if he tries.”Wei Chen’s jaw dropped, shame and awe warring in his chest. “You… bribed my family?” His voice was a whisper. “Jun, why? I’m not worth that. I’m just… me.”Jun grabbed his shoulders, eyes fierce. “You’re my brother, not ‘just’ anything. I see you drowning in this dump, and I’m throwing you a lifeline. Eternal Crucible is our shot at something bigger. You in?”Wei Chen’s eyes stung, but he blinked hard. His family’s taunts—useless, fat, waste—echoed, but Jun’s faith was a spark in the dark. “I’ll… try,” he mumbled. “For you.”Jun’s grin returned, blinding. “That’s my boy! Tomorrow, we dive in. Now let’s get you home before your devil sisters booby-trap your room again.”Home was a battlefield. The apartment reeked of cheap booze and burnt rice. Wei Chen’s twin sisters, Lan and Xiu, cackled as they rigged a bucket of water over his door. Wei Tao, his thug brother, lounged on the couch, smirking as he flicked cigarette ash onto the floor. Their mother, Liu Mei, counted cash at the kitchen table—Jun’s bribe, no doubt. Their father, Wei Qiang, was mercifully absent, probably at the bar.“Oi, lardass,” Tao called, tossing an empty beer can at Wei Chen’s head. “Heard your rich boyfriend got you a fancy toy. Better not think it makes you hot shit.”Wei Chen dodged the can, his stomach twisting. “It’s Jun’s, not mine,” he muttered, slipping past the bucket trap. Lan and Xiu giggled, whispering about “Fatty’s new game.” Liu Mei didn’t look up, her voice cold: “Don’t break it, or you’re paying for it.”In his cramped room, Wei Chen found the VR pod—a sleek, black capsule like a sci-fi coffin. His heart raced. This is crazy. I’m gonna suck at this. But Jun’s words echoed: Something bigger. He climbed in, the neural interface humming as it linked to his mind.Darkness gave way to light. Wei Chen stood in a misty valley, bamboo swaying under a crimson sky. The air buzzed with energy, like static before a storm. He looked down, expecting a chiseled avatar, but groaned—his pudgy body was unchanged, down to the sweat stains on his shirt. “No character creation? This game hates me,” he muttered, his voice echoing oddly.A translucent screen materialized, its text glowing gold:Welcome to Eternal Crucible, Disciple Wei Chen.
Class: Scribe Cultivator (Uncommon)
Profession: Inscriber
Cultivation: Qi Gathering, Stage 1
Stats: Strength 5, Agility 4, Vitality 6, Spirit 8
Skills: Qi Ward (Level 1), Ink Slash (Level 1)
Warning: Death resets your character. Forge your Dao, or perish.Wei Chen’s stomach sank. “Scribe Cultivator? Sounds like a glorified secretary.” He swiped the screen away, noticing other players spawning nearby—tall, confident figures with glowing swords or crackling spells. They sneered at him, one muttering, “Look at that noob. Trash class, trash body.”The valley was alive with activity: spirit beasts roared in the distance, and a jade tablet nearby offered beginner quests. Wei Chen’s first task was simple: gather five Spirit Herbs from a nearby grove. Easy, right? But his heavy footsteps sank into the mud, and his low Agility made every step a slog. Jun, where are you? he thought, realizing his friend had spawned elsewhere.Halfway to the grove, a rustle in the bamboo made his neck prickle—a tingling, like ants crawling under his skin. What the hell? He froze, heart pounding. A wolf-like spirit beast, its fur crackling with qi, lunged from the shadows. Wei Chen yelped, flailing his hands. “Qi Ward!” he shouted, a faint shimmer blocking the beast’s claws. The ward shattered in one hit, but it bought him a second.Panicking, he grabbed a stick, scribbling a talisman in the dirt as the Inscriber tutorial had taught. Something, anything! His fingers moved on instinct, qi surging through them as he traced the kanji for “Bolt.” The air sparked, and a weak lightning bolt zapped the beast, stunning it. Wei Chen scrambled back, his mind racing. Did I just… make that up?The beast recovered, its growl shaking the ground. Wei Chen’s prickle intensified—Heavenly Instinct, though he didn’t know it yet. With no qi left, he did something desperate: he pointed at the air, channeling the last dregs of his energy, and wrote “Shield” in glowing kanji. A translucent barrier flared, stopping the beast’s next lunge. The system chimed:Achievement: Defying Fate. Hidden Class Unlocked: Sage of the Written Dao.
New Skill: Kanji Manifestation (Level 1). Write your will into reality.Wei Chen stared, dumbfounded, as the beast retreated, wounded. His fingers trembled, the kanji fading. What just happened? He was still a pudgy, weak noob, but something had shifted. The valley felt alive, its qi whispering possibilities. For the first time, Wei Chen felt a spark of hope. Maybe… I can do this.But the grove loomed, and danger lingered. Alone, with no Jun to guide him, Wei Chen took a shaky step forward. Eternal Crucible didn’t care about his excuses. It was time to forge his Dao—or die trying.
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Wei Chen’s legs burned as he trudged through the Verdant Grove, the bamboo canopy casting dappled shadows across the mossy ground. The air hummed with qi, a faint tingle that made his skin prickle, but it did nothing to ease his nerves. His pudgy frame—unchanged from the real world—felt like a lead weight, his low Agility turning every step into a slog. This game is brutal, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. No character creation, a trash class, and now I’m alone in a monster-infested forest.The system’s golden text still lingered in his mind: Sage of the Written Dao. It sounded powerful, but Wei Chen wasn’t so sure. His Scribe Cultivator skills—Qi Ward and Ink Slash—had been weak, and while the new Kanji Manifestation let him write qi-infused words in the air, he’d only managed a flimsy “Shield” against that spirit wolf. His stats were pitiful: Strength 5, Agility 4, Vitality 6, Spirit 8. The only thing keeping him alive was the strange tingling in his neck—Heavenly Instinct, though he hadn’t named it yet—that warned him of danger.The beginner quest was simple: gather five Spirit Herbs. But the grove was anything but safe. A rustle in the bamboo made Wei Chen freeze, his heart pounding. Not again. The tingling flared, sharp and urgent. He dove behind a tree just as a Bamboo Viper—a snake-like beast with glowing green scales—slithered past, its fangs dripping venom. Nope, nope, nope, Wei Chen thought, his hands trembling. He wasn’t a fighter. In real life, he’d run from bullies; in Eternal Crucible, he wanted to run from everything.But running wouldn’t get him Spirit Herbs—or Spirit Stones. I need money. I need to escape Dad, Tao, all of it. Gritting his teeth, he peeked out, spotting a glowing Spirit Herb near the viper’s path. Okay, think, Wei. You’re not strong, but you’re not stupid. His Inscriber profession let him craft talismans, and his new Sage class… maybe it could do more than “Shield.”He crouched, tracing a talisman in the dirt with a stick, his fingers shaky but precise. The system had taught him basic inscriptions, but the Sage class felt different—like he could bend the rules. He wrote the kanji for “Noise,” channeling a trickle of qi. The talisman glowed faintly, and when he tossed it into the bamboo, it emitted a loud crack, like a snapping branch. The viper whipped toward the sound, slithering away from the herb.Yes! Wei Chen scrambled forward, snatching the herb and stuffing it into his inventory. His qi bar—barely 20% full—dipped slightly, but he grinned. Okay, maybe this class isn’t total garbage. Over the next hour, he used the same trick to gather four more herbs, dodging vipers and a scurrying Qi Squirrel that nearly bit his ankle. Each success boosted his confidence, but fighting? That was a hard pass. The game’s pain feedback, even at 80%, made his real-world bruises ache just thinking about it.Then he heard screams.The grove’s edge opened into a clearing, where a group of five players battled a towering mini-boss: a Jadeclaw Boar, its tusks crackling with green lightning. The beast was massive, its hide scarred from countless blows, but it wasn’t slowing down. The players—a mix of Sword Cultivators and Elemental Mages—were in bad shape. One mage’s arm hung limp, his health bar at 10%. A swordswoman shouted, “Focus the legs!” but the boar’s charge sent her sprawling, her health dropping to zero. She screamed as her avatar dissolved, a grim reminder of Eternal Crucible’s death penalty: lose everything, start over.Wei Chen hid behind a bamboo stalk, his stomach churning. They’re getting slaughtered. I should run. But the quest tablet had mentioned bonus rewards for defeating grove bosses, and Spirit Stones were his ticket out of his hellish home. Plus, those players… they were people, like him, chasing dreams in this brutal game. Jun would help them. I have to try.He stepped forward, hands shaking. The boar roared, smashing another player—a tanky Body Refiner—into a tree. The remaining two players, a mage and a swordsman, were barely standing. Wei Chen pointed at the air, qi surging through his fingers. Something simple. Don’t screw this up. He wrote “Bolt,” the kanji glowing faintly as a weak lightning arc shot toward the boar. It struck the beast’s flank, doing about as much damage as a mosquito bite. The mage glanced back, snarling, “Who’s the noob? Stay out of this!”Before Wei Chen could respond, the boar charged, its tusks impaling the mage. The swordsman fell seconds later, both avatars dissolving. The clearing was silent except for the boar’s snorts and Wei Chen’s ragged breathing. Oh no. Oh no no no. The beast’s eyes locked onto him, its lightning tusks flaring. His Heavenly Instinct screamed, a burning prickle down his spine. He dove left as the boar charged, its tusks gouging the bamboo where he’d stood.Think, Wei! His qi bar was at 60%, his health untouched but fragile with only 6 Vitality. The boar was fast, tanky, and hit like a truck. His “Bolt” was too weak, and “Shield” wouldn’t last a second. Talismans took too long to craft in combat. But the Sage class… it let him write anything. He needed something to slow the beast, something to exploit its aggression.He scrambled behind a tree, the boar circling. His Heavenly Instinct tingled, warning of another charge. It’s predictable. It charges straight. An idea sparked. He wrote “Mud” in the air, qi draining to 40% as the kanji materialized a slick, muddy patch under the boar’s hooves. The beast slipped mid-charge, crashing into a bamboo cluster with a thunderous crack. It worked! But the boar recovered fast, its health bar still at 80%.Wei Chen’s mind raced. I need damage. Something big. He’d seen the players’ spells—fire, ice, lightning—but his Spirit stat was too low for massive attacks. The boar charged again, and he wrote “Shield,” the barrier shattering after one hit but buying him a moment. His qi was down to 25%. One shot. Make it count.He remembered a xianxia novel he’d read, where a cultivator bound a beast with chains of qi. Can I do that? The boar was wounded, its left flank bleeding from the players’ earlier attacks. Wei Chen focused, his fingers trembling as he wrote a new kanji: “Chain.” The word was complex, his qi plummeting to 5% as glowing chains erupted from the air, wrapping the boar’s legs. The beast thrashed, but the chains held—for now.Now or never. Wei Chen sprinted to the boar’s flank, his overweight body screaming in protest. He wrote “Pierce,” a simple kanji that formed a qi-sharpened spearhead, and drove it into the boar’s wound. The beast roared, its health dropping to 20%. The chains snapped, and Wei Chen’s Heavenly Instinct blared. He dove, the boar’s tusk grazing his arm. Pain flared, his health dropping to 60%. I’m gonna die!But the boar was slowing, its movements sluggish. The wound. It’s bleeding out. Wei Chen gritted his teeth, writing “Bleed” in the air with his last 5% qi. The kanji sank into the boar’s flank, deepening the wound. The beast staggered, then collapsed, its health bar hitting zero. A golden notification flooded his vision:System: Mini-Boss Defeated: Jadeclaw Boar (Level 5)
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Achievement: Lone Survivor. +50% XP for solo kill.
Level Up! Qi Gathering, Stage 2. Stats: Strength 6, Agility 5, Vitality 7, Spirit 10.
Level Up! Sage of the Written Dao, Level 2. New Skill: Kanji Binding (Level 1). Create temporary qi constructs (e.g., chains, ropes) to restrain enemies. Cost: 20% qi.
Level Up! Sage Inscriber, Level 2. Inscription success rate +5%.
Rewards: 200 Spirit Stones, Jadeclaw Tusk (Crafting Material), Spirit Herb x3.
Warning: Qi depleted. Meditation required to recover.Wei Chen collapsed, gasping. His arm throbbed, his qi bar empty. The boar’s corpse shimmered, loot scattered around it. I… won? The 200 Spirit Stones were a fortune—$20 in real money, enough for a week’s groceries. But the fight had been too close. I’m not cut out for this. Yet the system’s rewards, and the new Kanji Binding skill, sparked a flicker of pride. Maybe I’m not useless.As he sat, meditating to restore qi, a private message pinged:Liang Jun: Yo, little bro! You alive? I spawned in the Crimson Wastes—freaking desert hellhole, miles from you. This game’s insane, right? I’m carving up demonic scorpions with my Void Wanderer class, but it’s rough. How you holding up in the Jade Blossom? Don’t die on me, man. We’ll link up soon, I promise. Hit me back!Wei Chen stared at the message, a lump in his throat. Jun was worlds away, but his voice was a lifeline. I almost died, Jun, he thought, but didn’t type it. Instead, he replied:Wei Chen: Still kicking. Got some herbs, fought a big pig. It’s… hard. Miss you, man. Stay safe.He sent the message, the grove’s qi humming around him. The Verdant Lotus Sect was nearby, a chance to learn, to grow. But the boar’s tusk had left a mark—not just on his arm, but on his resolve. Eternal Crucible was a crucible indeed, and Wei Chen was just beginning to forge his Dao.
