It might seem easy to save one hundred lives from certain death, but in reality, it's one of the most difficult challenges a monk faces.
Why?
Because each of those one hundred lives must be guaranteed casualties—not just "endangered" or "wounded," but on the brink of death, with no possibility of survival unless the monk intervenes.
Like now.
You Ying had set his sights on Wang Xian. The monk standing protectively in front of him might think he was doing his duty, but in truth, his effort was meaningless.
Because Wang Xian was never in real danger.
If the target wouldn't have died, the monk's intervention didn't count. And worse—if someone purposefully staged a near-death situation just so a monk could "rescue" them, the mission would fail immediately and permanently. No retries. No second chances.
The path to becoming a Buddha was brutal.
Ten stages.
The first stage—save one hundred souls from death—was the easiest. The tenth? A nightmare.
When the requirements of the tenth stage were leaked in the previous life, the entire world went silent:
From the beginning of digitization, to the completion of the transfer quest, you must not kill a single creature.
Not one.
No monsters. No enemies. Not even by accident.
It sounded impossible. And to most people, it was. But it was real.
The only way to gain experience under those constraints? Meditation.
Not simple, either. Sitting and chanting wasn't enough. The system had to verify that you'd entered a true meditative state—and only then would it grant a slow trickle of experience.
For most monks and Taoists, this method was agonizingly slow. Only the patient, the devout, and the stubborn ever got far. Some elderly players managed it. Most didn't bother trying.
And yet, in the previous life, monks became the spiritual backbone of the Long Kingdom, revered for their unshakable commitment to healing and peace.
Wang Xian wasn't going to spoil that.
He knew the requirements. He knew how impossible they were. But if he revealed them now, no one would try. There would be no flood of benevolent monks bringing light to a world darkened by war.
So, he kept quiet.
And let the monk try to save him.
"Donor, the little monk will protect you!" the bald man declared, stepping forward.
"Good luck with that," Wang Xian muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.
He'd seen it before. Monks, when desperate to finish their first ring, turned into stubborn lunatics.
Seconds passed.
Still no sign of You Ying.
The air was thick with tension. Above, the celestial star was now only a few hundred meters from the ground—blazing like a falling god.
Then—
A flicker of light.
Cold steel slashed across Wang Xian's throat.
A critical strike.
And then…
–0
The number floated above Wang Xian's head.
The world froze.
Even Wang Xian blinked.
The others stared in disbelief.
Did they see it right?
Zero?
How was that possible?
Then, another number popped up—this time over You Ying's head:
–294
And that wasn't all.
He stumbled, a grimace spreading across his face. Two icons appeared over his health bar.
[Heaven's Wrath]
[Divine Aura]
Both status effects.
Both cursed.
Both… for three days.
One reduced all attributes.
The other slashed his experience gain rate.
Permanently—for the next seventy-two hours.
You Ying's face twisted in shock.
His stats had taken a huge hit—but more than that, losing three days of XP gain? In this early stage of digitization, it was a death sentence.
Experience was everything.
And what had caused it?
Why couldn't he even scratch this so-called weakling mage?
He glanced at Wang Xian's profile again.
Low defense. Low HP. Low magic.
It didn't make sense.
He'd hit him with a fatal assassination skill. His weapon was enchanted. The blow was flawless.
So why—?
A bolt of lightning crashed down from the sky.
Wang Xian's staff pulsed with magic as he cast [Lightning Strike]—a basic spell of mages, one that barely took a thought to activate.
–2494
The number exploded above You Ying's head as the thunderclap rang out.
The others finally snapped out of their stunned silence—only to be shocked all over again.
That kind of damage?
From a basic spell?
"How the hell is his attack so high?" someone whispered.
Wang Xian blinked at the number. "Huh? That's… low."
Low?
That was low?
He expected 3,000 at least.
"Something's wrong…" he murmured. "Must've resisted more than I thought."
Shrugging, he followed up with a quick [Wind Blade], hoping to finish You Ying off.
–0
"…Excuse me?"
Even Wang Xian was baffled now.
"Locked HP?" he muttered.
He was right.
You Ying had activated a Blood Lock ability—either a talent or a hidden class skill. For a short time, his HP couldn't drop below its current value. Every hit became null.
But that didn't mean he was done fighting.
The assassin's body flickered into view for a split second—his blade darker than pitch, his figure transparent as a ghost.
"Die," he growled.
He vanished again.
In the blink of an eye, his ethereal form sliced clean through Wang Xian.
–7544
A dark red number burst into the air.
A critical hit.
A lethal blow.
Ten times the usual damage.
Wang Xian staggered from the force. The air around him shimmered.
The crowd gasped.
Blood dripped.
But…
He didn't fall.
Not yet.
And now, all eyes turned to the one question on everyone's minds:
What kind of monster was this "ordinary mage"?