Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Rufus raised his eyes to meet Jack’s. Jack felt the pressure. This lion man was strong; way too strong. His Dao Root even felt on the cusp of something greater, as if ready to reach the next level. Moreover, the aura of supremacy that surrounded him was palpable, and it made Jack feel like a child standing up to his father.

His soul punched through the illusion. Rufus raised a brow but didn’t speak further. The pressure mounted.

“Those are handsome rewards,” Jack said. “The Animal Kingdom believes a lot in you.”

“A coincidence. I will be the winner regardless of the rewards.”

“Come on, Rufus. Nobody’s listening. Tell me the truth; we both know those reward are meant for you.”

The eagler and elef stopped and looked over. Gan Salin and Shard Presht stared. Even the people on the stands began to notice there was some tension building up.

Rufus was still expressionless as if Jack’s witty tongue was just a chore to him.

“You should watch your baseless slander,” he said evenly. “I remember your attachment to integrity. How amusing that the one who complained about cheating got disqualified for cheating twice, then cheated his way into the finals anyway.”

Jack smiled. “Not everyone who breaks the rules is cheating, and not everyone who cheats gets caught.” He finally stepped aside. “I look forward to meeting you in the finals.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

Rufus walked by. Jack found himself holding his breath. Unconsciously, his fists tightened. Then, Rufus was past, and Gan Salin with Shard Presht followed a moment later. The other two scions continued, too.

“You have a talent for antagonizing people,” the Sage said with amusement. “It’s like you want to be bullied.”

Jack shrugged. “Both his followers had a grudge against me already. Rufus would strike out even if I said nothing. This way, I can at least embrace my Dao; mental fistfighting is also a form of cultivation.”

“Of course.”

“Can we go?” Dorman asked. “I want to see my mentor.”

“Always in a hurry, aren’t you?” Edgar laughed.

Dorman didn’t reply.

The four of them walked out of the arena, then crossed the now-bustling Integration City. People discussed spiritedly in every corner, and Jack caught several glancing their way; they were celebrities, now.

They exchanged merry banter all the way. Brock found Jack outside the arena, and Jack bought him five meat skewers to celebrate his qualification; Brock’s appetite grew by the day, as did his muscles. He already looked as buff as a gymonkey.

Eventually, they reached the participant district and split up to head to their respective houses.

The ghost monk stood outside Jack’s gate, arms crossed and with a thunderous gaze. His skin was bronze-colored, his face looked stern and marred by slight wrinkles, while a dark, triangular beard stretched from his cheeks to the base of his throat. He was also bald, though his status as a projection made him immune to reflecting the sunrays.

He waited for Jack to greet him first.

“Good afternoon, mentor,” he said cautiously. This was a projection of a D-Grade being; who knew what the proper etiquette was?

“Hello, my new disciple,” the monk replied. Though he looked harsh, his voice was pretty friendly, and a small smile was on his lips. His narrowed eyes seemed to take in everything about Jack with mild disapproval. “It is time for proper introductions. My name is Shol Pesna, an immortal of the Exploding Sun faction.”

“It is my honor. I am Jack Rust, the leader of the Bare Fist Brotherhood. This is Brock”—he pointed at the brorilla— “my little bro.”

Brock stared at the ghost. Shol’s eyes narrowed. “Do you refer to each other as “bro” in your faction?”

“No, but that is actually a good idea.”

Shol chuckled. “Very well. Come. We only have three days until the final rounds begins, so there is no time to waste.”

“Yes, mentor.”

“And call me master.”

Jack resisted the urge to raise a brow. “How about teacher?” he asked.

“I am an immortal, boy. Do not talk back to me. You will call me Master. When you reach the D-Grade yourself, then you can call me however you want.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Then again, who was he to retort against a D-Grade demigod? “Fine. This way, Master.”

He passed his identification token over the gate, then the front door, unlocking both of them. The sound of his door sliding open rang loudly in the lonely participant district, which only had sixteen occupied houses out of a thousand now.

“To the training facilities,” Master Shol instructed, and Jack complied. He was expectant about receiving an immortal’s—whatever that meant—training, but also slightly apprehensive. This person did not have the air of a God like the lioness. It was more like a next-door ghost.

“I can see the doubt in your eye, boy,” Master Shol said.

“But I was looking at the front.”

“You should know that mortals outnumber immortals one hundred thousand to one. In other words, there are roughly 99,999 other newbie cultivators that do not have the opportunity to receive my teachings. Appreciate what you get.”

“Yes, Master Shol. Immortals are D-Grade cultivators, right?”

The ghost gave him a look, then nodded slowly. “D-Grade and above. When we form our Dao Tree, not only do we gain abilities like flight or absorbing the natural energies to strengthen ourselves, but our lifespan also increases greatly. Hence, we are called immortals.”

Jack glanced back with surprise. “How greatly?”

“By a factor of ten. But focus on yourself, boy. You have a long way to go till then.”

Jack turned back ahead and nodded. They’d reached the bottom of the stairs, so he opened the door and flicked the light switch. Master Shol walked into the room behind him, looking around.

“This place is fine,” he said. “You should have a training robot, too.”

“I do. It’s in the next room.”

“Excellent. That will make things a lot easier.”

He walked to the center of the room and turned to look at Jack. He crossed his arms. “Narrate your status screen to me,” he instructed.

“Narrate it?”

“I need to know what we’re working with. Don’t worry; you have nothing I would covet, and even if I did, I cannot harm you in this form. I am incorporeal, and my Dao is only a hollow illusion.”

Jack hesitated for a moment, then opened his status screen.

Name: Jack Rust

Species: Human, Earth-387

Faction: Bare Fist Brotherhood

Grade: F

Class: Pugilist (Elite)

Level: 40

Strength: 105

Dexterity: 105

Constitution: 105

Mental: 10

Will: 10

Skills: Fistfighting (III), Drill (II), Pugilist Body (III), Parkour (II)

Dao Skills: Meteor Punch (I)

Daos: Dao Root of the Fist, Dao Root of Indomitable Will

Titles: Planetary Frontrunner (10)

He narrated everything. Shol waited patiently, nodding in approval occasionally and frowning at times.

“You said your Mental and Will are both at ten?” he asked. “Why is that?”

“I thought it was a nice, round number.”

“Nice, round numbers won’t save your life. Efficient numbers will, and yours are too low.”

Jack didn’t tell him that he’d only bumped up those stats recently. Master Shol considered it for a moment, then added, “I suppose I shouldn’t fault you. Playing to your strengths is the best way to survive the Integration. However, now that you’re out of danger, at least temporarily, I advise you to split your attribute points in an 8-1-1 distribution: eight out of ten go to your main attribute, and one tenth goes to either of the other two. That’s what most people do around the galaxy.”

“I see,” Jack replied, nodding. “So my Mental and Will are actually decent.”

“Yes, but the attitude that got them there was not.”

Again, Jack found himself without retort. “Nice, round numbers” was not easy to argue for.

“That said, the equal distribution between your three Physical substats is fine. Given your fighting style, all three are equally important, so you might as well keep them like that.”

“I see,” Jack replied.

“You haven’t used a Dao Fruit yet, right?”

A person could only use one Dao Fruit in each Grade. That was part of the reason why Jack hadn’t used his despite the price being so low—and also the reason why the price was so low.

“No, sir.”

“Good. Save it for your breakthrough. Is there anything else I should know?”

Jack considered it for a moment, then decided to trust this person.

“I also have this,” he said, reaching into his pants and retrieving a golden coin. The professor had had someone sew him a hidden pocket behind his left thigh.

“A Trial Planet token!” Master Shol’s eyes shone. “That’s excellent! You are going to need that.”

“Thank you, Master…but what exactly is the Trial Planet?”

Master Shol smirked. “Oh, to be newly Integrated… The Trial Planet, otherwise called the Hollow Planet, is one of the most important and mysterious places in the galaxy. It is packed with Elite monsters, even King ones! The brightest E-Grade disciples of all B-Grade factions meet there, and they combine their forces to push as deep into the planet as they can. There is great danger, but also unbelievable opportunities. In fact, the fortunes of Trial Planet are so extraordinary that a cultivator’s future achievements can be accurately predicted by how many rings of the planet they conquer.”

“What? Rings?”

“Yes. Like my title, Fifth Ring Conqueror. But let’s not focus there. You still have a long way to go.”

Jack wanted to ask more things, but he nodded reluctantly. He put the golden coin back inside his hidden pocket.

Master Shol continued. “Now, your Dao Roots are fine. The fist is a strong weapon if you wield it well, and indomitable will is a great supportive Dao—just don’t accidentally make it your Dao Seed. In fact, you don’t need more Dao Roots for now; save them for the E-Grade.”

Jack nodded. To advance from the F to the E-Grade, one had to understand one of their Dao Roots deeply enough to transform it into a Dao Seed, then connect it to all the other Dao Roots. When meditating freely, it wasn’t unheard of to accidentally turn the wrong Dao Root into a Dao Seed—after all, insight was quite a random thing.

“What you really need to work on,” Master Shol said, frowning, “is your Dao Skills. You only have one! Where do you think you are, a backwater village’s elementary school?”

Jack frowned. “Most people in the tournament don’t even have one.”

“Don’t hold yourselves to their standards.” Shol shook his head. “You are gifted and carry tremendous momentum. You should aim to be leagues ahead of your peers—otherwise, your momentum will quickly run dry, and you will stagnate. Listen. Dao Skills are crucial both to battle and to cultivation.”

“I see.”

“By the time you reach the D-Grade and crystallize your path, you should have at least four of them: one for attack, one for defense, one for the mind and soul, and one for movement. And they should be as close to your path as possible. Do you understand?”

Jack considered it. “By my path, you mean the Dao of the Fist, right, Master? Path and Dao are the same thing?”

“The fist is the core of your path, but one Dao by itself is nothing. Your path is the fist and all your complementary Dao Roots together. That is your true Dao.”

“I see, Master,” Jack said, this time more whole-heartedly. He felt like a lost man finally finding his way. Having a teacher was great!

Master Shol nodded in approval. “Of course, you don’t have to get the four Dao Skills I mentioned. Every person forges their own combinations. There aren’t many tournament finalists here using mind or soul attacks—which is natural, as your planet just got integrated—so you can leave those aside for now. What other aspect do you feel you are lacking in?”

Jack thought about it. It was definitely not attack—Meteor Punch had yet to meet its match. When it came to defense, he was adequate, too; his new application of the Dao Root of Indomitable Will, along with his skills, could resist Shard Presht’s blades head-on.

He was pretty well-rounded, but if he lacked anything, it was movement. Parkour was nice, but not too useful in open combat.

“Speed, I guess,” he finally replied.

Shol nodded. “Correct. However, unlike what you might imagine, the best option for you isn’t speed itself, or even a movement skill; it’s a fighting style.”

“A fighting style, Master?”

“Exactly. So far, you have been using the fistfighting skill as your base. However, as your Dao advances, a normal skill will soon meet its limit. It is time to dive deep into it, understand it, conquer it, and make it truly yours. Then, it will be your true fighting style; a Dao Skill that will follow you for millennia!”

Jack’s eyes lit up. He set his jaw. “I understand.”

“We will also incorporate some of your other skills into it,” Shol continued. “Parkour can be one—I don’t know what it is, but it doesn't matter; any movement skill will do if you’re proficient. Drill should be included, too; it is not a flashy skill, but it is essential to your path of the fist.”

Jack nodded.

“Therefore, we should set that as our target: to develop you a proper Dao fighting style,” Master Shol declared. “Before that, we should bring Parkour and Drill up to a standard; you should reach the third tier in both. That is the hallmark of proficiency.”

“I understand.”

“I will craft you a proper training routine—I know Drill, and I can craft some exercises for this Parkour skill, too. I believe I grasp its general concept. Can you narrate its description to be sure?”

Jack complied.

Parkour II: A mix of finesse and bodily strength can allow you to navigate obstacles efficiently, have better control of your body, and move unpredictably. By seamlessly integrating the environment into your moves, the battlefield itself becomes your weapon.

“Okay. I got it. Let’s start by—”

“Um, Master,” Jack interrupted. “Can I ask some things first?”

Master Shol exhaled, drawn out of his rhythm. “Yes,” he replied.

“Brock here is my little bro. He is quite talented himself; already a child and he developed a Dao Root. Would it be possible to train him as well?”

Jack held Brock from his armpits and raised him high, presenting him to the ghost. He hoped he wasn’t crossing any limits, but he’d promised Harambe to make Brock a strong brorilla.

Brock himself didn’t expect this, but he didn’t dare react harshly. He understood that this ghost was the Big Bro of his Big Bro. That made him…a Very Big Bro.

“Your monkey?” Master Shol asked with slight derision. “My time is precious, disciple.”

“Please, Master. Brock is an important friend of mine.”

Master Shol didn’t reply instantly. A few moments later, he said, “I will give him a few pointers, but I will not train your monkey. You will have to train him yourself. The only reason I am even training you is because you share a Dao with one of my ancestors.”

“I understand, Master. This is already kind of you,” Jack replied earnestly. Though his Dao made him a headstrong person, he wasn’t an idiot. A D-Grade cultivator taking time to train him one-on-one was already beyond what he could reasonably expect.

He placed Brock on the floor, who then turned and extended a hand at the ghost with a serious face. Master Shol looked at him for a moment, then smirked and said, “I am a projection, little Brock. I cannot touch your hand.”

Brock seemed upset at this, but he finally settled for a deep, manly nod. Master Shol turned to Jack.

“Your next question?” he asked.

“Only one more, Master…” Jack raised his gaze. “You mentioned I share a Dao with your ancestor. Could you tell me more about that person? Was it a bald man dressed in yellow?”

He’d had this suspicion from the moment he read the name of Master Shol’s faction: Exploding Sun. It wasn’t the first time he saw that name; the bald man in his Dao Vision was of the same faction.

Master Shol’s eyes widened. He instantly put the clues together. “You have had a Dao Vision of my ancestor?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes, Master.”

The ghost’s face went from disbelief to joy; it practically lit up. “That is wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I knew I was right to insist on you. We are bound by fate, boy. I must definitely bring you back to the faction!”

“Bring me back?” Jack suddenly had a bad feeling. “I have my own faction here on Earth, Master…”

“Of course, of course, do not worry. I won’t force you into anything. However, in the galaxy, seeing a Dao Vision of someone makes you half their disciple. The Exploding Sun would love to assist you on behalf of our ancestor.” Master Shol kept smiling. “Again, I won’t force you into anything. When the time comes, you can choose for yourself.”

His smile relaxed. “Now, is there anything else?”

“No, Master.”

“Very well. Then, let’s begin training; there is no time to waste. We will start with Drill.”

He paced to one end of the room and, after some silent calculations, pointed at the floor with his finger. “Get some dumbbells and form a line here. Then, place a practice target on the wall. I want you to stand behind the line and try to punch the target. You cannot reach it physically, so you’ll have to use Drill to send your fist through the air.”