Something shifted inside me without warning.

  The next moment, I lost control of my body.

  It felt like being sealed behind a sheet of glass, conscious but untouchable, watching my own reflection move without my consent. I could see. I could hear. I could think. But I could not command a single muscle.

  Yakuza Man had taken over.

  He did not hesitate.

  The chopsticks in our hand ignited in dark flames, the fire writhing like oil-fed serpents. With a sharp flick of the wrist, he hurled them straight at Da Wei’s eyes, aiming to blind.

  Strangely, beneath my shock, I felt a faint sense of familiarity toward this man in white and gold. Not trust exactly, but something close to friendliness, like recognizing a face from a distant memory.

  Yakuza Man felt the opposite.

  What surged through him was raw irritation, old and festering, layered with anger that had not cooled with time.

  The flaming chopsticks struck Da Wei’s eyes.

  They bounced off with a metallic clang as if his eyeballs were forged from divine steel.

  Yakuza Man moved instantly. He kicked the table upward, sending it flipping toward Da Wei’s face. Plates, bowls, and half-eaten food flew with it in a chaotic arc. The heavy wooden table crashed down over Da Wei’s upper body.

  Without pause, Yakuza Man summoned the bat, his reliable weapon materializing in his grip. Dark flames engulfed it, roaring hotter than before.

  He drove the bat downward, stabbing straight through the overturned table.

  A resounding clang rang out again.

  The impact vibrated violently up our arm.

  Da Wei did not move.

  The recoil shattered bone.

  Our right arm trembled, then twisted unnaturally as a wet cracking sound echoed through the gazebo. Blood burst outward in a gruesome spray as the forearm split under the backlash.

  Pain exploded through my senses.

  “This wasn’t the deal,” Yakuza Man growled through gritted teeth.

  Da Wei brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve and sighed theatrically. “Come on, old friend. Don’t be so cold. Besides, it’s not my fault your merits aren’t high enough.”

  “You trapped me in that place,” Yakuza Man snapped. “It was humiliating.”

  “Buddy, all of that was for you.”

  “I don’t care about any wishes. You should have left me alone.”

  “And let you drown in your own karma?” Da Wei tilted his head, still smiling faintly. “There was another way out. Redemption cannot exist without bad people, you know. There is no need to punish yourself when the rest of the universe is more than willing to do it for you.”

  I did not understand a single concrete detail of what they were arguing about.

  But they clearly knew each other.

  This was not a first meeting.

  I tried to wrest control back, pushing against the invisible wall trapping my consciousness. Nothing budged. It was like clawing at polished glass.

  Fine, I thought bitterly. If he wanted to waste his precious thirty minutes fighting an indestructible lunatic in silk robes, that was technically beneficial for me.

  Still, curiosity was eating me alive.

  Yakuza Man abruptly shifted tactics.

  He pivoted and unleashed a vicious, dark flame-coated kick straight at Da Wei’s groin.

  There was another metallic boom.

  Our leg bent at the wrong angle.

  The tibia cracked.

  I screamed internally.

  Come on, man. I am the one who has to live in this body afterward.

  Da Wei did not even flinch. He looked mildly inconvenienced, as though someone had flicked a pebble at him.

  Yakuza Man, however, was not finished.

  Perhaps realizing brute force was pointless, he went petty.

  He grabbed a bowl of spilled braised pork and flung it directly at Da Wei’s face. Sauce splattered across pristine white robes. Rice followed. Then vegetables. Then fish.

  Within seconds, Da Wei was covered in sticky glaze and soy-dark streaks.

  Yakuza Man leaned forward slightly, blood dripping from our shattered arm, and smirked.

  “How’s that?” he asked coldly. “Feels sticky, doesn’t it?”

  Da Wei merely waved his hand.

  Golden flames blossomed around him, warm and radiant, utterly different from the violent darkness Yakuza Man wielded. The braised pork sauce, the rice grains, the duck grease, all of it evaporated in an instant. His robes returned to pristine white and gold, not a single wrinkle or stain remaining.

  He looked down at himself, then back at us.

  “Are you done?” he asked mildly.

  Yakuza Man slumped back into the chair, our broken arm hanging at a grotesque angle, blood dripping onto the wooden floor.

  “Yeah,” he snarled. “So what?”

  Da Wei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you let me talk with your—”

  “Yes!” Yakuza Man barked immediately.

  Da Wei blinked. “Oh. You are insufferable.”

  The world flickered.

  Control snapped back to me so abruptly that I nearly pitched forward. Pain flooded in, sharp and nauseating, reminding me that my arm and leg had been shattered in the world’s most pointless display of bravado.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “That was extremely painful.”

  Da Wei waved his hand again.

  Warmth washed over me. Bones realigned. Flesh knitted. Blood vanished. Within seconds, I was completely healed, as if the previous violence had been nothing more than a dramatic rehearsal.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I flexed my fingers cautiously. No lingering ache.

  I looked up at him. “What’s next?”

  Part of me still wanted to grab the bat and try again, but Yakuza Man had already demonstrated how futile that would be. If dark flames and brute force did nothing, my mortal-level problem-solving skills were unlikely to succeed.

  Normally in isekai stories, you met the god or goddess at the beginning. There would be a grand explanation, a dramatic apology for truck-related incidents, and then a neat bundle of cheat abilities before you were tossed into adventure.

  You did not meet the cosmic administrator halfway through the campaign.

  I leaned back and folded my arms. “So what is this? You forgot to give me the complimentary orientation package? Maybe a few more cheats to help with my clearly bizarre situation? What exactly is your deal?”

  Da Wei laughed, amused rather than offended. “Unfortunately, this is not my story.”

  He rested his chin on his hand again. “What do you think of this world so far? In game terms, you have experienced the demo version.”

  I scowled. “That is a weird way to put it. What now? Do I need to pay to unlock the full version? Because honestly, I am considering going home. I would like to enjoy modern plumbing, stable internet, continue streaming, chase my dreams, and maybe get married before I turn thirty.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Da Wei said sincerely. “Fine. I will send you back.”

  I blinked. “Wait. What? That easy?”

  “But first, you have to listen to what I have to say.”

  “No,” I replied immediately. “I just want to go home.”

  “You can still do that,” he said calmly. “However, you have two options before you.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Option one: you go home right now. Clean break. No epilogue.”

  “And option two?”

  “You accept a quest from me. Upon successful completion, you will be granted one wish. After that, you return home.”

  I frowned.

  That sounded suspiciously generous.

  “What are the chances you are lying?” I asked bluntly.

  Da Wei’s expression shifted into something almost apologetic. “You cannot know. That is the nature of trust, isn’t it? From your perspective, this is a gamble. It is not as though we can call in a lawyer to draft terms.”

  I considered it for a moment. “How about a Binding Vow?”

  Da Wei winced and shook his head. “Dude. I do not swing that way.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

  Da Wei covered his mouth as if suppressing a laugh. “Never mind. You will figure it out eventually.”

  Before I could press further, a familiar presence stirred inside me.

  Yakuza Man spoke, his voice steady and sharp. “I will act as witness. We will make this a proper contract.”

  Da Wei’s eyes shifted slightly, as though he were looking past me and directly at the other presence within. “That is fine by me,” he said casually. “To make things fair, I will add a clause. If you die during the duration of my quest, I will send you back home immediately.”

  That sounded absurdly generous.

  It was the kind of offer that screamed trap.

  If I were smarter, I would have rejected it outright. Yet if I refused now and this opportunity vanished forever, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Between a godlike stranger and the devil I already knew, I trusted the devil more.

  I knew Yakuza Man from countless hours of gameplay. I understood his logic, his rage, and his character. Da Wei, on the other hand, was an unknown variable wrapped in silk and gold.

  Since Yakuza Man had volunteered to witness the contract, that had to mean something.

  Da Wei flicked his wrist, and a parchment materialized in midair. The material looked ancient yet pristine, its surface faintly shimmering. A quill appeared beside it, ink already pooled at its tip.

  “Here is the contract,” he said lightly.

  I took the parchment and read it carefully, line by line. The language was precise. No obvious loopholes. No hidden trick phrasing that I could detect. The clause about death returning me home was clearly written.

  After finishing, I hesitated only briefly before signing both my name and a signature.

  Inside, I asked, “He did not cheat me, right?”

  Yakuza Man answered without hesitation. “He did not. The contract is fair.”

  I exhaled slowly. “So what is this quest exactly?”

  Da Wei clasped his hands behind his back. “Protect the Meteor Child until she grows strong enough to fight off the Star of Calamity.”

  I frowned. “What even is the Star of Calamity?”

  “It is better that you do not know,” he replied.

  That was not comforting.

  “That is too abstract,” I protested. “How am I supposed to know when Xue Hai is strong enough? What is the benchmark? What counts as ‘able to fight’?”

  “I will summon you when the task is complete,” Da Wei answered smoothly.

  Of course he would.

  I looked down at the parchment once more, then handed it back. “Done. Now what?”

  He smiled, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Out of curiosity, what wish are you planning to make?”

  I did not intend to be vague and risk being outmaneuvered later. “Bring my mother back to life. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “I can.”

  “That is enough for me.”

  For the first time, his smile faded slightly. Something almost like sadness crossed his face.

  “I am sorry,” he said quietly, “but you cannot remember this conversation. Yakuza Man will remember. You will not.”

  My chest tightened. “Why?”

  “There is a particular destiny within you,” he replied. “One I wish to borrow. For it to unfold properly, you must remain ignorant of my involvement.”

  “So you are going to erase my memory.”

  “Yes.”

  I stood there for a moment, processing that.

  Strangely, I did not feel anger. If anything, I felt resignation. If this was the price, then so be it. The contract was signed. The wish was real. The path forward was chosen.

  I let out a long breath and nodded. “Do it.”

  Da Wei snapped his fingers.

  The world fractured into white and that was the last thing I remembered.

  …

  ..

  .

  I yawned and lifted my head from the table.

  I stared at the half-eaten dishes in front of me, my cheek faintly imprinted with the wood grain. Did I fall asleep while eating? That was not like me. I was many things, but passing out mid-meal was not one of them.

  “That is just weird…” I muttered.

  I stretched and rubbed my eyes. A faint sense of something missing lingered at the edge of my thoughts, like trying to recall a dream that dissolved the moment you reached for it.

  “Yakuza Man,” I called inwardly, “did something strange happen?”

  Silence.

  Of course he ignored me.

  I clicked my tongue and looked down at the table again. My confusion deepened. The spread of food looked… fuller. There were more plates than I remembered ordering, and steam still curled lazily from several dishes as if they had just been cooked.

  Braised pork belly glistened under a caramelized glaze, fat and lean layered in perfect harmony. A whole steamed fish lay bathed in soy sauce, scallions and ginger releasing a fragrant aroma. Stir-fried greens shimmered with garlic oil. Golden roast duck rested beside fluffy white rice, and bamboo baskets of sweet buns were stacked high.

  By xianxia standards, this was mortal food. No spiritual herbs. No beast meat infused with qi. No century-old wine distilled from immortal peaches.

  But it was rich. Hearty. Honest.

  “Well,” I said, picking up my chopsticks, “I am not complaining.”

  I dug in.

  The pork melted in my mouth, savory and sweet. The duck skin crackled between my teeth. The fish was tender, delicate, and perfectly seasoned. Even the plain rice tasted absurdly satisfying.

  “This is the stuff…”

  As I ate, a familiar sensation stirred within me.

  A notification flickered at the corner of my vision.

  Level up.

  Then another.

  And another.

  I froze mid-bite.

  “Whoa. That is just unreasonable…”

  Each mouthful sent a faint surge of warmth through my body, like invisible EXP points being shoveled directly into my system. My stats ticked upward steadily, the growth smooth and continuous.

  I narrowed my eyes at the plate.

  “Are you serious?”

  I increased my pace.

  If the food was feeding me experience, then I was going to exploit it. I shoveled rice. Devoured duck. Scooped vegetables. Drank the soup straight from the bowl. Table manners could wait; optimization could not.

  By the time I finished, I leaned back heavily, stomach full to bursting.

  Power pulsed through my limbs. My breathing felt deeper. My senses sharper. It was as though every cell in my body had been upgraded.

  I yawned again, unexpectedly drowsy.

  Was leveling up supposed to make you sleepy?

  Shouting cut through the haze.

  I turned.

  Meng Rong appeared just a step away from me, eyes wide, breath uneven.

  “Yakuza Man, it is an emergency!”

  I waved a hand lazily. “Calm down.”

  “No, I cannot calm down.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Meteor Child is missing!”

  The words hit wrong.

  Before my mind consciously processed it, my body moved.

  The bat materialized in my hand from my inventory, golden aura erupting as I unleashed Heavenly Punishment in one smooth arc. The gazebo flooded with radiant light.

  A fan met my strike.

  Metal rang against metal.

  The golden aura splintered against lacquered ribs reinforced with hidden steel. The figure before me blurred, the illusion of Meng Rong shattering like glass.

  In her place stood a different woman, clad in dark robes, her expression twisted in irritation. She staggered slightly from the impact.

  I followed immediately with another special move, not giving her space.

  However, the enemy was quicker.

  Needles punctured multiple points along my body in the same instant. Shoulder. Neck. Lower back. Thigh.

  My limbs locked.

  I could not move.

  Another figure stepped into view, a man carrying an array of fine needles between his fingers like a macabre musician.

  “Xin Chin,” he said calmly, “I will leave him to you. The elder’s orders are to wipe out everyone. Preferably no survivors.”

  The woman scowled. “Just go.”

  He disappeared without another word.

  Xin Chin who was finally freed from the residual stun of my Heavenly Punishment, leaped back cautiously, putting distance between us. Her eyes burned with hatred.

  “How did you find out?” she demanded. “My illusion was perfect.”

  It was because she called Xue Hai the Meteor Child. Meng Rong would never have said it like that in panic after the scolding she got. She would have said ‘Xue Hai’ instead, because she was a consistent person and would carry through things she decided was correct.

  Moreover, there had been no Binding Vow mark on her wrist.

  That had been the final confirmation.

  But I did not give her the satisfaction of hearing that.

  Instead, I curled my lip and smiled with deliberate cruelty.

  “Ah,” I said lazily, despite being frozen in place, “Meng Rong is prettier. That’s why.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “You are just an ugly cunt,” I continued evenly. “That is how I knew. Do not scowl like that. You will get more wrinkles. You are already ugly as you are. No need to make it worse.”

  Her face flushed with fury.