Chapter 04 - The Bullies

Wherever the white-robe clad cultivator went, the crowd of adolescents parted like the red sea did for Moses. Suddenly, it was crystal clear who amongst us was native and who was a player.

The NPCs bowed reverentially as the cultivator passed them by. In contrast, the players treated him like some kind of spectacle—or quest event—staring, whispering, even laughing.

A few scoffed at his robe, calling it tacky, as if he were part of a low-budget cosplay parade.

Then, just as I thought the players couldn’t get any more idiotic, an eighteen-year-old with spiky, neon-yellow hair strutted into the street, wearing a shit-eating grin like he was proud of it. The moment he crossed into the cultivator's path, the surrounding NPCs visibly paled—many pressing their faces against the floor.

Unlike the majority of the spectating players, they knew what was coming.

Subsequently, the yellow-haired idiot did the unthinkable.

With all the grace of a drunk toddler, he brandished a sturdy... stick—and lunged at the cultivator. No plan, no foresight, not even a proper weapon.

Just blind confidence and the kind of delusion that made one question the intellect of humanity.

He attacked a high-level NPC—a cultivator.

In the middle of town.

Before I could even facepalm, a blur of movements seized my undivided attention.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, the cultivator was strolling calmly down the street. The next, he was holding an ornate sword—drawn so fast I hadn't even seen it leave its sheath.

Then, the yellow-haired player's head suddenly sailed through the air in a graceful arc, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

Somewhere, a woman screamed as the severed head hit the ground—only for the blood, body, and head to disintegrate into a cascade of shimmering pixels. Within seconds, there was no trace left of the yellow-haired player.

It was as if his existence had been completely erased from this world.

A grim silence descended on the street, even the youngest of players held their breath, watching the white-robed cultivator with stunned expressions.

The NPCs, however, unanimously looked down, as if they were unworthy to even look at the cultivator.

But everyone knew what had just happened. A person—a player—had just been beheaded, in the middle of a town nonetheless.

In the middle of a supposed safety zone.

Dread swept over the crowd as the cultivator indifferently looked around, searching for something—or someone. When he presumably didn’t find what he was looking for, he sheathed his sword and continued to saunter away, acting as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t just beheaded a man in cold blood—even if it was just a player.

When the cultivator finally vanished from view, it was as if a spell had been lifted from the crowd.

In an instant, chatter erupted. Players buzzed with nervous, outraged, our excited energy, dissecting the spectacle they'd just witnessed.

A low-level player had been killed by an NPC in the middle a safety zone. From the perspective of VR gamers, this was practically unheard of.

Some condemned the cultivator's actions, insisting that towns were meant to be safezones. Others laughed, shrugging it off as natural selection in action. Provoking a cultivator, they claimed, was as good as signing your own death warrant.

Safezone or not—he got what he deserved.

I found myself siding with the latter opinion. If you willingly log into a xianxia game, adapting to the culture seemed like a no-brainer.

Then again... a public beheading? In a game as realistic as this one? It felt a bit much.

Sure, the game had an eighteen-plus rating, but even so—this wasn't exactly a cutscene.

One person—apparently a friend of the recently decapitated idiot—began shouting for a gamemaster, his voice cracking with disbelief and horror. He ranted that what had happened had to be a bug, that no developer in their right mind would program NPCs to act like that in a safezone.

I found myself agreeing with him.

Would a game company really allow this kind of NPC behaviour?

But I didn't think it was a bug.

No. Watching the NPCs' petrified reactions to what had transpired, I suspected it was actually a feature. When the company claimed that Cultivation Online was a hyper realistic VR world, they meant exactly that.

Fortunately for him, the yellow-haired player would respawn soon—albeit with a nasty debuff that would linger for a few hours.

From what I'd understood from the Guide, Cultivation Online had a relatively forgiving death penalty—at least while you remained a mortal. But once you started cultivating—actually building up your qi reserves—death became a whole different beast.

Depending on how you died, you could suffer serious setbacks. In the worst cases, you mighte ven become crippled, losing the ability to cultivate altogether.

Though knowing the xianxia genre, no affliction was truly without remedy—not in a world with immortals in it anyhow.

Sighing softly, I made a quiet vow to steer clear of cultivators from now on—at least until I'd become one myself.

Sure, the death penalty was lenient for now—but that didn't mean I was eager to experience it first hand.

I couldn't help but to touch my arm, the one aching from my spar with Hou Wen.

Still, what unsettled me the most about the public beheading wasn't the violence—no, it was the sheer ease with which the cultivator had killed someone. Like a farmer cutting down wheat.

With that sobering thought lingering in the back of my haed, I followed the flow of teenagers and resumed exploring the town.

…

Eventually, I reached the far side of town where the White Tiger Sect's recruitment would be held.

There, rising from the eart like an altar, stood a large, elevated platform built from meticulously chiseled sstone. The structure commanded attention—grand yet cutting in its symmtery.

In front of it, a sign read:

“The White Tiger Sect’s annual recruitment starts at noon each day until the summer solstice. Only youths between the ages of thirteen and eighteen may participate. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.

Puzzled, I started looking for an NPC who might be able to answer a few questions.

Luckily, not far from the platform, tucked away at a quiet corner, I spotted an elderly woman manning a modest food stall. She had kind eyes and a warm smile, and was selling crab cakes for a copper apiece.

Seeing as no one else was crowding her stall at the moment, I decided to try my luck.

“Good evening.” I said, offering a fist-cupped greeting. “Any chance I could buy a crab cake... and maybe a few answers along with it?”

The grandma's eyes twinkled as she focused on me. "Depends," she said with a knowing smile, watching as I fished out one of my precious copper coins. "On the nature of your questions, young man."

“I’m hoping to participate in the White Tiger Sect's recruitment tomorrow," I said, handing over the coin as she passed me a steaming crab cake. "Got any tips for a newcomer?"

“Do as they say.” The grandma replied at once, her tone firm. “The White Tiger Sect does not have much patience for disobedience.”

I nodded quickly, and she continued without prompting.

“I’ve seen many of their recruitments in my time, dear—though my years are but a blink compared to the immortals." She sighed wistfully, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the crowded streets.

"And since what I'm about to tell you is no secret, I don't mind sharing it with a well-mannered boy like yourself. Heavens know we need more of you."

I smiled at the compliment, unsure if I deserved it. I wasn’t even a teenage boy, after all.

“Did you know," the grandma said, leaning in slightly, "that Durnatel isn't the only town blessed with hosting the White Tiger's annual recruitment?"

Seeing the surprise on my face, she chuckled softly.

"Indeed," she continued, handing me a napkin for the crab cake, "the White Tiger Sect's domain stretches far beyond the contested borders of our little kingdom."

Again, the grandma continued before I could say anything.

“The recruitment is always overseen by two immortals," the grandma pointed out, lowering her voice slightly. "And though they may look young, don't be fooled—I'd wager they're older than I am... and I've been selling crab cakes since before your mother was born."

I nodded along—showing I'd understood.

“Using one of their crystals, they will check if you have what it takes to join their ranks.” The grandma said with a weary sigh. “Most... do not pass this test.”

“So there really is an aptitude test.” I mused, frowning thoughtfully at the discovery.

The grandma must’ve noticed the concern on my face, because she added quickly.

“But lately, they've been accepting more and more disciples," she said, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "To my memory, I can't recall a day when they took as many as they did yesterday."

I froze, realizing what the grandma was alluding to.

If they traveled through the night, some of the more ambitious players might've indeed reached Durnatel in time for yesterday's recruitment.

"But they must've run nonstop to get here that fast..." I mused inwardly. Still, a day's head start wouldn't matter much in the long run. Attaining immortality was a marathon, not a sprint—or so every xianxia novel I'd ever read insisted.

“I noticed on the sign that they'll keep hosting recruitments until the summer solstice," I said. "When is that, exactly?"

The old woman raised an eyebrow, giving me a curious look. My question seemed to have caught her off guard.

“Tomorrow, of course.” She said slowly, as if wondering whether I was joking or just daft.

Handing the old lady another of my precious copper coins, I asked her one final question.

“And what happens to the ones who get accepted?”

The grandma smiled, tucking the coin into her pouch with practiced ease. "As you'd expect, they're given a letter of acceptance and direction to the sect."

Looking around, she added in a whisper, “But I’ve heard that many don't make it all the way to the Sect. Son, if you truly turn out to be one of the chosen, I implore you—act with utmost caution. Always remember: heaven is jealous of heroic genius."

With much to think about, I clasped my hands in gratitude.

“Thank you, grandmother.” I said, hoping she wouldn't take offense at the term. "You've given me a lot to consider."

“Of course, dear.” She smiled the kind of smile only grandmothers know how to give. “I always try to help my customers.”

Just as I was turning to leave, her elderly countenance suddenly reminded me of someone very similar.

“Oh, before I leave,” I looked at the grandma who was busy preparing another batch of crab cakes. “You don’t happen to have met a young boy around my age who goes by the name of Ye Feng?”

“Ye Feng?” The grandma’s eyes narrowed as she furrowed her brows.

“Yes,” I added hurriedly. “A young man from Easton with an oval-shaped face and a defined chin.” I repeated the description I’d received from the old woman in Easton, knowing perfectly well that I wouldn’t be able to recognise the boy even if he sat on my face.

“Ye Feng… Yes, that name does ring a bell.” The grandma said before shaking her head remorsefully. “But alas dear, I can’t remember where I heard it. It’s not exactly an uncommon name either.”

Thanking her nonetheless, I proceeded to take another stroll around town, savoring my freshly baked crab cake.

…

“The only thing worse than a bully, is a group of bullies.” I thought, shaking my head in disappointment.

As time passed, more and more players emerged from the woodwork. Some arriving late, other logging in after a break. Most knew how to behave around town, but a few strutted about like they were the hottest thing since sliced bread.

At the moment, a group of thugs were taking advantage of the guards' absence to harass two female players.

“Come on, baby,” one of them said, flashing a smug grin at one of the girls. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to snag a room at the inn?" He shook his head dramatically, feigning exhaustion.

“I just need someone to pamper me a little.” He added with a sleazy grin. “I don’t even mind paying for it. How does five copper sound?”

“Five copper?” One of the others chimed in, snorting. “Mate, even I'd drop to my knees for that kind of money. This bitch should be grateful."

Their laughter rang out—ugly and far too loud for the narrow street.

“You’re fucking repulsive.” The girl spat, her voice tremling with fury. Her face had gone pale as parchment. "Come on, Lilac—let's go." She grabbed her silent friend's hand and turned to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey!” One of the thug sidestepped to block her way, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Don’t mind him—Draven's just having a laugh.”

His lecherous eyes swept over them, lingering far too long on the silent girl's chest area.

“How about you Lilac? Oh, and that’s a pretty name by the way. You’d fancy a good time, wouldn’t you honey?”

Just as I was about to step in to knock some sense into the crude bastards, another group of players beat me to the punch. Led by a handsome young man with a pair of angry, blue eyes, the street quickly became very crowded.

“I know some people like to roleplay as villains in VR games," the handsome young man said, looking the hooligan in the eye. “But I guess the role comes natural to some.”

“A villain?” The thug’s eyes widened before looking at his friends for verification. “Is this guy for real? Did this dude seriously just call me a villain?”

The group of thugs chortled

His face red, the handsome player looked ready to draw his sword when a displeased voice cut through the crowd

“What’s going on here? Break it up immediately!” Two armed guards clad in chain mail pushed through the crowd, looking every bit ticked off and ready to fight.

Since the guard seemed to have the situation under control, I decided to move on.

“A lot of players chose to be eighteen, it seems.” I noted inwardly. In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising. If given the choice between playing as an adolescent or a young adult, most would probably choose the latter. Honestly, the main reason I picked a fifteen-year-old avatar was the novelty of playing as a character thirty years younger than my real age.

Realising I still felt hungry—even after finishing my last piece of the crab cake—I understood it wasn't my avatar, but my real body that was complaining.

Sighing, I reluctantly logged out.

…

As soon as I took off my VR HeadGear and looked around my empty bedroom, a wave of overbearing dejecting swept over me.

Compared to the bustling activity, vibrant colours, and constant drama of the VR world, reality felt flat—dull and painfully ordinary.

“And then there’s my body.” Like it or not, all the years of working as an electrician had taken their toll on me. Compared to the sprightly young physique I had in Cultivation Online, my real body was slightly overweight and noticeably rougher around the edges.

I wish I could blame something other than laziness for my unhealthy lifestyle—but the truth was, I really couldn't.

More dejected than I cared to admit, I didn’t hesitate to order some home-delivery to sooth my depression.

Nothing like fast food to fuel the self-loathing.

Checking my phone, I saw that neither of my children had responded to my earlier messages. Still, I told myself they were probably just busy playing Cultivation Online, like I was.

It felt good, knowing they were somewhere in the same world as me.

My son and daughter lived in England with their mother and her new husband, James, while I resided in the US for work reasons. I still saw them from time to time—mainly during the holidays, birthdays, and such—but as they grew older, their old man across the Atlantic gradually slipped further down the prirority list.

I didn’t hold it against them, of course. Wanting to find your own place in the world is a natural part of becoming a young adult. I'd gone through something similar myself when I was eighteen.

I don't know—maybe it's just the years weighing heavier than I'd like to admit—but sometimes, I just wish they'd answer more often.

Even sending an emoji would be enough.

Anything... really.

Just so I'd know I was still on their radar.

…