Steadily Upgrading Everything!
Chapter 18: You Can’t Dodge Forever Rat!

Chapter 18: You Can’t Dodge Forever Rat!

Amidst the carnage, as the last of the Skin and Bone Refinement realm warriors fell bleeding into the forest floor, only two figures remained standing in the clearing, both panting, both wounded, both seething.

John Coral, bleeding from the leg, ribs cracked and sore.

Giant Sorrow, hammer resting on his shoulder, blood dripping down his temple, rage burning in his eyes.

"You’ve taken my men..." the brute growled, his voice like grinding stone. "But you won’t take my life, too."

John didn’t respond.

He was too busy focusing on his breathing, using every ounce of his Level Five Breathing Technique to recover, to endure, to steady the storm in his lungs.

Then Giant Sorrow moved.

Faster than a man of his size had any right to.

He swung the hammer low, then suddenly vaulted it upward in an arc that sent a shockwave of wind screaming toward John.

"Iron Sky Shatter!" he bellowed.

John leapt sideways, the shockwave tearing a trench into the earth where he’d stood.

Dust exploded into the air.

The hammer came again.

"Crumbling Ridge!"

A downward smash so heavy it cracked stone as if it were clay.

John dodged, but the aftershock sent him flying, tumbling hard through the dirt.

His ears rang. His chest screamed.

But he scrambled up again, blade in hand.

"You can’t dodge forever, rat!"

Giant Sorrow roared and charged again.

"Hammer Spiral, Revolving Grief!"

He spun mid-charge, turning the hammer into a deadly cyclone.

John ducked once, twice, on the third swing, the hammer’s edge grazed his back, reopening a wound.

He hissed in pain but forced himself to move forward, inside the spin.

The moment Giant Sorrow slowed, John retaliated, his blade slashing toward the brute’s neck.

CLANG!

The massive hammer blocked the blade, the collision sparking light and force.

Then the hammer came crashing down again.

"Earthquake Collapse!"

The ground quaked violently as the hammer struck it, sending a ripple of tremors outward.

John lost his footing for a split second, and in that second...

WHAM!

The hammer slammed into John’s side, launching him backward like a ragdoll.

He crashed into a tree with a sickening thud, bark splintering.

He coughed violently.

Blood poured from his mouth.

"Still alive?" Giant Sorrow mocked, dragging his hammer across the dirt.

"That was my brother’s favorite move. Funny how you’re about to die by it too."

John wiped his mouth, wincing. He tried to stand, but one leg faltered.

But his mind was sharp.

He took a breath. Then another.

His Spatial Awareness buzzed, he felt the faintest twitch of muscle, the subtle shift in Giant Sorrow’s shoulders.

He knew what was coming before it arrived.

The hammer rose.

"Final Rite of Sorrow!" the brute roared, a two-handed overhead strike designed to pulverize anything it hit.

John waited. Just a heartbeat more.

Then he moved.

He rolled low, letting the hammer whistle just above his spine, and with all his remaining strength, he drove his blade upward, right beneath the brute’s ribs, and into his heart.

Giant Sorrow gasped, his eyes wide in shock.

John didn’t stop.

He twisted the blade, pulled it out, and then plunged it into the man’s throat, finishing him.

The hammer slipped from the giant’s fingers.

And the man named Sorrow collapsed onto his knees, then the ground, silent at last.

John staggered back, blood oozing from his side and leg, his chest on fire from cracked ribs, his vision blurring from exhaustion.

But the fight was over.

He had survived.

Only the crackling of fire and John’s heavy breathing filled the clearing.

He stood over the corpses, chest heaving, blood dripping from a gash on his leg and down his side.

The hammer strike had shattered his ribs, and his left leg was cut so deep it soaked the grass in red.

But he was alive.

He limped over and dropped to one knee.

"Damn," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Then his eyes fell on a small pouch at Giant Sorrow’s waist.

He opened it and his breath caught.

A spatial bag.

He reached in, and his hand sank into the space like water.

A smooth black interior. Cold. Still. Ten meters wide.

Inside he found, 1,000 Spirit Stones, Two technique scrolls, A pile of cultivation pills, And at the bottom, a glowing blue Healing Pill, pulsing with faint light

He didn’t wait and look at the other things, he identified Healing Pill because it was literally written on the bottle of the pill.

He popped the pill into his mouth. A cool energy surged through him, racing to his wounds.

The bleeding stopped. The pain dulled. His breathing eased.

"Jackpot," he murmured.

He collapsed beside the fire, staring at the stars above.

"Giant Sorrow, huh?" he chuckled darkly. "Should’ve brought twenty."

John lay sprawled near the dwindling fire, his body heavy, every limb humming with the aftershocks of the brutal battle.

The massive corpse of Giant Sorrow lay just a few feet away, unmoving and cold, its eyes open to the sky as if still caught in disbelief at his defeat.

John’s chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths.

The healing pill he had swallowed earlier was beginning to show its miraculous effects.

Warmth spread through his body in rhythmic pulses, dulling the sharp pain in his ribs and soothing the burn in his leg.

He winced as he shifted slightly, then allowed his body to go still again, sinking deeper into the earth.

For the first time in months... he allowed himself to rest.

Since reaching Level Five in his Breathing Technique eight months ago, John had barely slept.

He had trained himself into a constant cycle of day-and-night cultivation, surviving on minimal food and minimal rest, his stamina and endurance bolstered by the power of his skill.

But now... after surviving a life-or-death battle... after dancing at the edge of death’s blade and overcoming a powerhouse like Giant Sorrow...

His body surrendered.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowed further, and within moments, John slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He didn’t wake for twenty-four hours.

When his eyes finally opened again, the fire had long since turned to ash, and the stench of rot filled the air.

Flies buzzed around the corpses scattered in the clearing, and wild animals had begun to cautiously creep toward the edge of the area, lured by the scent of blood and decay.

A deep frown appeared on John’s face as he sat up, brushing the dirt from his shoulders.

The first thing he noticed was the absence of pain.

He pressed his fingers to his ribs, nothing.

Then to his thigh, no burn, no sting, only faint stiffness.

He stood slowly and stretched. No weakness. No soreness.

Only raw, pulsing energy flowed through him like a tide reborn.

"My injuries... they’re completely healed." He spoke aloud, his voice slightly raspy from sleep.

He flexed his chest, twisted his torso, and walked a few paces around the clearing.

"That pill was truly miraculous."

He looked down at his hands and clenched his fists.

"Not just healing. I feel stronger... sharper." He exhaled, the breath long and controlled. "Like I shed another layer of weakness."

Feeling restored, he walked among the corpses littering the ground.

Most had already begun to rot, their faces twisted in death, flies covering their wounds.

He bent over a few of them, pulling aside torn robes and checking their pouches and belts.

Among the spoils, he found two more small coin pouches, each containing about a hundred Spirit Stones.

"Two hundred more," he muttered with a small smile, adding them to his spatial bag, which now sat comfortably on his hip, its invisible weight a constant comfort.

But even as he looted, a deeper thought began to rise from the back of his mind, a thought that darkened his expression.

"How did they find me?"

He stood still for a moment, staring at the corpses.

"Did they track me? Did someone see me in the market that night? Or..." His jaw clenched.

"Was there a spy watching from the shadows when I bought the Double Face Lizard Technique?"

A chill crawled up his spine.

He looked out toward the forest, the towering trees swaying slightly in the breeze, the call of birds echoing in the distance.

"If they found me once... others can too."

He cursed under his breath. "I was careless. I thought the wilderness would hide me, but it’s not enough—not anymore."

His fists tightened, and his gaze sharpened with determination.

"I have to go deeper. Into the inner parts of the Deep Havoc Wilderness. If I stay here, I’m just inviting death."

Without a second thought, John adjusted the straps of his gear, tightened the bindings on his boots, and secured the spatial bag around his waist.

He took one last look at the battlefield, at the bodies, the blood, the silence, and then turned his back on it all.

And then, he ran.

His figure blurred into the trees as he darted deeper into the heart of the forest, toward unknown dangers and unseen secrets.

Because if he was to survive, he’d have to grow stronger.

Much stronger.