Click.
He exited the system space with no reward, no fanfare, and a thigh that still felt like it had been personally stabbed by fate with a rusty tusk.
No light.
No fire.
Just mud. Blood. And the distinct, spiritual aroma of "you got f**ked."
And somewhere in that thick jungle dark…
munch.
Lai Ming didn't even flinch this time.
The sheep strolled in like it owned the f**king forest, chewed with a face that said, "Oh, you're still pathetic? Cute." Then casually dropped a sprig of that weird medicinal grass beside him. Same as last time. Still damp. Still pulpy.
He blinked. "This again?"
No answer.
Just chewing. Staring.
Then, as if it was tradition—
Lick.
"OH MY GOD—"
Jungle slime hit his thigh like a cursed ointment, followed by a warm tongue that absolutely did not belong anywhere near his open wound.
He swore. Loudly. A lot.
The sheep didn't care. Just gave him one final, medical fart and wandered off into the night like a sagely nurse on break.
And that was it.
No system.
No healing screen.
Just spit, pain, and silence.
He laid there all night, teeth gritted, muscles twitching, fire long gone cold. Every breeze hurt. Every breath reminded him of ribs. His thigh throbbed like it had its own heartbeat. But he didn't cry. Didn't scream again.
He just endured it.
Because he'd made a choice.
He wasn't gonna nap his way out of this one.
Morning.
Light cracked through the canopy, pale and golden, like the jungle had the audacity to pretend it was peaceful now.
Lai Ming's eyes opened slowly.
Still alive.
Still aching.
But not bleeding.
"…Okay," he muttered, voice hoarse. "Let's f**king begin."
He tried to sit up.
Failed immediately.
Pain flared in his thigh like someone had replaced the muscle with a screaming toddler and set it on fire.
"FUU—ghk—aaahhh—!"
He collapsed back into the dirt, face contorted in agony, leg twitching like it was offended he even tried.
He stared at the sky for a full minute, teeth clenched, hands curled into fists beside him.
"…Okay. Maybe not begin. Maybe just… threaten to begin."
A soft crunch of leaves.
His head lolled to the side.
There it was.
The sheep.
Striding into camp like it was clocking in for work. A bundle of that jungle grass clutched in its mouth again—both kinds: the pulpy, spit-worthy healing one, and the bitter leafy one that doubled as breakfast.
It walked up, dropped them next to him, and stared.
He blinked. "Do you… just find these every morning now?"
munch.
No answer.
Just a blink.
Then, as if on schedule—
LICK.
"BRO—WHY."
Another sloppy smear of grass spit medicine across his thigh. The sheep didn't even blink this time. Just wiped its mouth on a rock and sat down like a doctor charging by the minute.
Lai Ming flopped back and groaned into the moss.
"I am one bad decision away from inventing sheep stew."
He grabbed the edible bundle, chewed it with the passion of a man eating lawn clippings, and stared into the trees like they held the answers to his ruined pride.
Then…
An idea.
So dumb it looped back around to genius.
His eyes narrowed.
"Wait a second…"
He focused inward.
Called on that weird, quiet part of himself that always came alive during sleep—where system messages bloomed and attributes got padded like a lazy man's training arc.
The nap zone.
He could still enter it.
Still move inside.
And in there, his thigh didn't actually exist.
He blinked.
"…You know what? F**k it."
He exhaled. Slow. Intentional.
Let the pain fade to the edge of his thoughts.
Let the warmth of the sun melt over him.
And closed his eyes.
Click.
The void greeted him like a scuffed loading screen.
Same glowing patch of grass. Same floating depression leaf. Same dead silence.
But this time, Lai Ming didn't float.
He stood.
No limp. No stagger.
He blinked. Flexed.
No pain.
"…Ohhh, hell yeah."
He rolled his shoulder. Squatted slightly. Kicked his bad leg out—and nothing.
No scream. No stabbing agony. Just clean motion.
He let out a low whistle. "Dream me is cracked."
Then he dropped to the ground.
Push-up position.
Immediately—
PAIN.
Not full-body collapse pain. But a ghost of it. Sharp. Stabbing. Echoing.
He froze mid-rep, face twisted.
"…Okay. Okay. So I… remember the pain. Got it. Nervous system's got a grudge."
Still...
He could move.
He could train.
And if this space gave him stats just for sleeping—
Then he was about to game the fk** out of it.
"Alright," he growled. "Dream Gym. Day one. Let's get f**king shredded."
He dropped into the push-up again.
And this time, he didn't stop.
One.
Five.
Twenty.
Fifty.
His arms moved like they had purpose. Smooth. Solid. Sweat flicked off his glowing skin in shimmering arcs as he crushed rep after rep like a sleep-deprived drill sergeant in spirit form.
By seventy, his ghost-thigh burned.
By a hundred, the phantom pain started whispering rude things.
By one-fifty, he was grinning like a lunatic.
"One ninety-six… one ninety-seven…"
The glowing grass flickered beneath him. The void pulsed faintly, as if concerned.
"One ninety-eight—"
He dropped low. Paused.
Then pushed up with a growl.
"Two hundred."
He collapsed onto the dream-grass, gasping like he'd just bench-pressed karma itself.
"Nope… nope, I'm a monster. I'm a f**king sleep beast. Let's go."
DING.
Upper Body Training Detected
+1 Physique Gained
Dream Lock Increased: +3 Hours
Total Time Remaining: 3 Hours
Do not exit early. All gains will be lost.
Side Effects: Mild Spectral Chest Soreness, Inflated Ego
Lai Ming blinked at the screen. "Wait—three hours?!"
Another one slid in beside it like a smug pop-up ad:
You exercised.
You're trapped now.
Welcome to HellGym™.
Leave early and your stats go bye-bye.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his chest.
Then paused.
"…Why do I even know how to do this sh*t?"
A flicker of memory surged up.
Dim apartment. Dead heater. Cracked phone on his belly.
That one god-tier YouTube rabbit hole labeled:
'EX-MARINE TEACHES YOU HOW TO ESCAPE BEING A BCH (NO EQUIPMENT!!!)'**
And that man.
Bald. Screaming. Shirtless in the snow. Probably made of pure muscle and spite.
"You wanna cry or you wanna conquer, civilian?! PUSH. THROUGH. THE. PAIN."
Lai Ming blinked.
"Oh right. That guy. F**king ghost-drilled me from my couch."
Another flash:
'Pain is the rent you pay for staying in the fight, motherf**ker!'
He stared blankly into the void.
"…That dude might've been a cultivator."
Then, without hesitation, he dropped into crunches.
"If I hear a 'stay hard' echo in here, I'm logging out with violence."
One.
Ten.
Thirty.
By fifty, his core was on fire.
By eighty, he was sweating glowing bullets.
At one-twenty, he collapsed flat.
DING.
Core Training Complete
+1 Physique Gained
Dream Lock Increased: +3 Hours
Total Time Remaining: 6 Hours
He groaned and rolled onto his side.
"Okay. Yeah. This is starting to feel illegal."
The floating leaf drifted past his face again.
He flipped it off on reflex.
Then stood.
Wobbled slightly.
And dropped into squats.
Fifty.
A hundred.
One fifty.
Two hundred.
By the end, his spirit thighs were vibrating like they were trying to reincarnate.
DING.
Lower Body Training Logged
+1 Physique Gained
Dream Lock Increased: +3 Hours
Total Time Remaining: 9 Hours
He dropped like a stone, face-first into the grass, arms and legs sprawled like a spiritually exhausted rotisserie chicken.
"…Three stat points. Nine hours."
The void didn't answer.
The leaf circled overhead like a vulture.
He rolled onto his back and glared at the sky.
"I swear to god, if this leaf counts as a fourth exercise, I'm eating it raw."
It floated closer.
Paused.
Then drifted away.
Coward.
The leaf circled overhead like a vulture.
He rolled onto his back and glared at the sky.
"I swear to god, if this leaf counts as a fourth exercise, I'm eating it raw."
It floated closer.
Paused.
Then drifted away.
Coward.
The void stilled. The grass dimmed.
DING.
A deeper chime this time—less notification, more summary report from a divine nap accountant.
A new screen unfolded above him, crisp golden letters glowing against the dark.
Full-Body Training Logged
– Upper Body: Complete
– Core: Complete
– Lower Body: Complete
+3 Physique Gained
+1 Free Attribute Point Earned (Full-Body Set Bonus)
Dream Lock Duration: 9 Hours
Early wake-up will erase progress.
Please remain unconscious.
Side Effects:
– Nap Paralysis (Temporary)
– Soul-Level DOMS
– Mild Flexing Reflex
A smaller line faded in underneath:
Milestone Progress: 1/5 Full-Body Sets Logged
Milestone Reward: Unlockable on Fifth Completion
Lai Ming stared up at it.
Then blinked.
"…There are milestone rewards now?"
A beat.
"I'm in a grind-based sleeping simulator."
He laughed once—just once. A tired, breathy wheeze.
Then let his arms flop out wide, legs twitching faintly.
"…F**k it. Goodnight, cruel gym."
And with that, his eyes slipped shut.
Not from exhaustion.
But from inevitability.
The void dimmed.
The leaf floated in slow, reverent circles.
And the nap—
began.
Nine hours later.
BLINK.
The jungle greeted him with quiet rustles, soft breeze, and a distant scream that sounded like a bird losing an argument with gravity.
But none of it mattered.
Because—
Lai Ming exhaled through his nose.
Then blinked slowly.
"…That was a good f**king nap."
He sat up—carefully.
No soreness.
No twitches.
No dream-hangover or lingering rage from ghost squats.
Just… balance.
His body didn't feel light. It felt anchored.
Denser. Stronger. Like someone had finally installed the muscles his soul had been paying rent for.
He rolled his shoulder. Flexed a little.
Didn't hurt.
He stood. Limped once. Then steadied.
The leg still throbbed—but the motion was cleaner. Controlled.
He took a few steps toward the fire pit.
"Okay…" he muttered. "Definitely stronger. Not healed. But better."
He grinned, just a little.
"If I'm lucky, I might not get gored next time."
He paused, glanced around.
No screens. No glowing prompts.
Right.
System only talked to him while he slept.
Figures.
He'd have to check his stats next nap.
For now?
Crunch.
Behind him.
He turned—and there it was.
Elder Munch.
Wool puffed. Eyes unreadable. Mouth stuffed.
One bundle of bitter jungle greens.
One medicinal spit-sprig.
The sheep trotted over, dropped both beside him like a nurse with no bedside manner, and leaned in without a word.
LICK.
Herbal goo hit his thigh like a cold slap of destiny.
Lai Ming didn't even blink.
He just looked up at the sky.
"Day two of the training arc," he muttered.
"Day five of this weird-ass jungle saga."
A pause.
"Not dead yet."