“Another spell?!”

Qin Lu stared at the [Ignition Technique] shimmering on his status panel. A jolt of realization hit him. He finally understood the mechanism behind the panel’s skill progression.

“I cast Ignition Technique eleven times just now, and the counter sits at eleven. That implies a one-to-one ratio. One cast, one proficiency point…”

Qin Lu bolted upright from his bed. Ignoring the hollow ache of his depleted spiritual energy, he snapped his fingers together, channeling the last dregs of his qi.

Snap!

A wisp of flame sprouted from his fingertip. Weak and flickering like a dying lighter, the firelight cast dancing shadows across his face.

“Extinguish.”

With a mere thought, the flame vanished. He immediately summoned the status panel.

“Just as I thought!”

Ecstasy washed over him. The proficiency count, previously sitting at eleven, had ticked over to twelve.

“Excellent! I can grind the numbers just by practicing. It’s currently at the Novice level. Once it breaks through, the power of the Ignition Technique should skyrocket!”

Qin Lu clenched his fist, a fierce light burning in his eyes.

He had arrived in this world abruptly, isolated and helpless. His singular goal was self-preservation. Only the living had a future; the dead had nothing.

But now, with this system, the equation had changed. As long as he kept his head down and ground out his proficiency, he could survive this hellscape.

“Once I pay off these debts, I’m going to live more freely than anyone else!”

Just as he solidified his resolve, a thick, enticing aroma drifted past his nose.

“Hmm? The rice is ready!”

Qin Lu rubbed his empty stomach. He approached the stove and lifted the lid of the wooden steamer.

“It smells incredible!”

A wave of steam rolled out, carrying a fragrance unlike anything he had ever experienced. He licked his lips, his mouth watering instantly. The hunger in his gut roared to life.

He grabbed a porcelain bowl and shoveled in a heap of the steaming grain.

Steamed to perfection, the Spirit Rice had turned translucent. Each distinct, plump grain glistened like white jade—a feast for the eyes alone.

Ignoring the scalding heat, Qin Lu raised his chopsticks and shoveled a mouthful in.

The texture was exquisite—tender, delicate, and perfectly glutinous. As the flavor bloomed across his tongue, he felt light enough to float on clouds.

“So delicious!”

Qin Lu’s eyes widened. He had originally planned to stir-fry some beast meat as a side dish, but he hadn’t expected the Spirit Rice to be this flavorful on its own.

Who needed meat? He could devour this entire bucket plain.

His chopsticks became a blur as he attacked the porcelain bowl.

Before long, the entire bucket of freshly steamed spirit rice was gone. Scraped clean.

So satisfying…

Qin Lu collapsed onto his bed, rubbing his stomach. A warm, heavy contentment settled over him.

Maybe this hellhole isn’t so bad. At least the food hits the spot…

Huh?

He paused. The spiritual energy he had drained casting the Ignition Technique was trickling back.

Wait.

Qin Lu bolted upright. A fragment of memory sparked in his mind.

Digestion. Meditating immediately after a meal of spirit rice maximized absorption.

I can’t let this go to waste.

He scrambled off the bed and moved to the room’s solitary piece of furniture—a worn yellow cushion—and dropped into a cross-legged position.

No conscious effort was required. As soon as his hands formed the seals, the cultivation method engraved in the original owner’s muscle memory took over. He closed his eyes.

The technique cycled. Dormant energy stirred.

Hmm? So this is the dantian?

It was a marvel to Qin Lu. A warm current erupted in his lower abdomen, surging through his meridians like a river of heat. It was intoxicating. He surrendered to the flow, letting the instinctual rhythm guide the circulation.

……

Two hours evaporated.

Qin Lu’s eyelids fluttered open. His reserves were full, brimming with vitality. A grin tugged at his lips.

His first true session of Qi refinement had gone off without a hitch. And with his tank refilled, he could get back to practicing the Ignition Technique.

On a hunch, he summoned the interface.

It really went up!

Delight washed over his face.

[Technique: Mystic Sun Mantra (Novice): 83/100]

The proficiency of the Mystic Sun Mantra had nudged forward.

Just as he suspected. Repetition equaled proficiency. Proficiency equaled levels.

It hit the exact dopamine receptor Qin Lu had cultivated through years of MMO gaming. Motivation flooded his veins.

Luck is a lie. Pay-to-win is a trap. Only the grind is eternal!

His gaze hardened. Focus sharpened.

He cast the Ignition Technique, draining his Qi to the dregs. Then, immediate meditation to recover. Full bar. Cast again. Drain. Recover.

He repeated the cycle with robotic precision. Over and over.

Time dissolved. Before he knew it, the sunlight had bled away, replaced by the heavy silence of the dead of night.

……

Night.

Inside the cramped room, Qin Lu’s face had drained of all color. His spiritual energy was running on fumes, barely sustaining the faint wisp of flame dancing between his fingertips.

Since dawn, he had cast the Ignition Technique nearly a hundred times.

Between the spellcasting came the recovery—eight full cycles of two-hour meditation to replenish his qi.

The intensity of the grind left his skull throbbing, a pain worse than pulling ten consecutive all-nighters. With a flick of his wrist, he extinguished the flame. Qin Lu cradled his forehead in one hand and exhaled a long, heavy breath.

I can’t go on. I have to stop here. Any more and I’ll drop dead. But by my count, it should have leveled up…

With a mere thought, he summoned the interface. The translucent blue panel shimmered into existence.

[Name: Qin Lu]

[Lifespan: 35/102 years]

[Cultivation: Qi Refining Layer 2: 62/100]

[Technique: Mystic Sun Mantra (Novice): 91/100]

[Skills:]

Spells:

Ignition Technique (Proficient): 1/200

[Talents: None]

From Novice to Proficient!

The exhaustion melted away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. The grueling labor had finally paid off.

Huh? My cultivation improved too…

Qin Lu rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing to slits.

It seems the constant cycle of draining and replenishing spiritual energy acts as a form of brute-force cultivation. At this speed, wouldn’t I be able to break through to the third layer of Qi Refining in less than two months?

He shot up from the meditation cushion.

The original owner of this body had spent over a decade stuck in a bottleneck, unable to reach the third layer. Yet here he was, poised to smash through that barrier in sixty days.

Qin Lu swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper. He took a step toward the table and reached for the porcelain cup, only to find the teapot bone dry.

Grabbing the pot, he shuffled into the small kitchen and lifted the wooden lid of the water bucket.

His hand froze in mid-air.

Staring back at him from the rippling surface was a stranger. An indescribable dissonance washed over him.

The features weren’t delicate. They were rugged, the jawline sharp and distinct. His skin held a healthy, wheat-colored tan that radiated a raw, masculine vitality.

A bit of a scoundrel’s face. Ugly-handsome, as they say. But this mouth… it really is huge. No wonder they call me Qin Big Mouth.

Memories surfaced—the original owner’s list of unflattering nicknames. The Heaven-Swallowing Python. The Man-Eating Monster. All tributes to his cavernous maw.

Qin Lu felt a wave of helpless amusement. He leaned over the bucket and grinned at his reflection, baring his teeth.

Two rows of pearly whites flashed back, transforming the rugged face into something surprisingly approachable.

The mouth is wide, sure. But it’s still a hell of a lot more handsome than I was in my past life.

Back on Earth, a face like this would have been prime capital. He could have easily passed for one of those handsome, mature types—the domineering CEO straight out of a drama.

Qin Lu tore his gaze away from the reflection. He reached down, scooped up a handful of clear water, and scrubbed his face vigorously. The biting cold against his skin chased away the last dregs of sleep.

He dipped the teapot into the bucket to refill it, then tilted the spout directly into his mouth.

Ah.

The cool liquid washed down his throat, drawing a long, involuntary sigh of satisfaction from his lips.

Standing there, he could feel the subtle hum of his spiritual energy recovering. He raised his right hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

Whoosh.

A flame ignited instantly between his digits, bright and luminous.

It was no longer the weak, flickering candle spark of before. This was a condensed fireball, roughly half the size of a fist, radiating a heat that pricked at his skin. The increase in power was undeniable.

This is the Proficient realm of the Ignition Technique.

Delight surged through him. Unable to resist the urge to test it, Qin Lu flicked his wrist, hurling the fireball downward.

Thud.

The impact was dull but heavy. The earthen floor was instantly gouged, leaving behind a small crater ringed with scorched, blackened soil.

This power is no joke.

He stared at the charred pit, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. But as his gaze drifted upward, the smile froze, then slowly slid off his face.

The wooden door hung loosely on its hinges, a pathetic, broken thing.

Yesterday morning, Fang Hu had kicked the panels to splinters. In his exhaustion, Qin Lu had merely propped the wreckage back into the frame without bothering to attempt repairs. Now, the snapped crossbar and the gaping hole in the wood seemed to mock him.

The cold reality of the slums rushed back in, extinguishing his momentary joy. Qin Lu shook his head, muttering helplessly to the empty room.

This… if they come to collect the debt tomorrow, there is no hiding behind that.