Certainly! Here's a refined and immersive **Chapter Four** of your story, written in a cohesive and narrative-driven style that flows well with the previous chapters:
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**
I ran all the way home that night—my heart pounding like a war drum. Each beat thudded against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest.
On the outside, I wore a calm mask. Inside, I was chaos.
As soon as I reached my room, I locked the door behind me and rushed into the bathroom. The mirror reflected a pale, sweat-drenched face—mine, but not mine. I stared at it in silence, reliving every frame of what had just happened.
**He shot at me. Point-blank.**
Eyes shut in panic, gun trembling in his grip—he had fired until the barrel clicked dry.
And every single bullet… missed.
**All of them.**
There was no other explanation.
**It was Luck.**
All that investment into my Luck stat—it had just saved my life. Not once, but multiple times now.
I sat down and started counting the night's winnings.
**43,000.**
Just like that.
My first instinct was elation. A flood of adrenaline-fueled hope. But it didn't last long.
This world wasn't mine. I wasn't here for money.
**I was here to survive. To win.**
And money couldn't protect me in a martial arts ring.
Only **power** could.
And I had none—no shortcuts, no magic scrolls, no secret weapons. Just this body, a sluggish manual, and an approaching death sentence if I failed.
**12 days** left till the qualifiers.
I had to act fast. But there was one problem:
**I had zero connections.**
No officials to bribe, no insiders to manipulate, no one in power to befriend. And I was running out of time.
That night, after scouring the internet again and finding nothing beyond official rules and sponsor ads, I resorted to routine.
Just like always, I practiced the *Extremely Basic Body Strengthening Manual* before collapsing into bed.
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**The Next Day**
Morning came fast. I was up before sunrise, jogging the now-familiar route through the neighborhood.
Breakfast.
Training at the **Absolute Martial Training Center**—first gym work, then martial forms from Garen's memory, and finally more manual practice at home.
But I wasn't done.
That evening, I told my parents I was heading out with friends.
I lied.
I took a cab straight to another casino.
This time, I played the **slot machines**. Just three spins in, I hit the jackpot—**50k**.
I didn't wait to get noticed. Wearing a black hoodie, I collected the cash quietly and left before drawing attention.
They handed me **30k in cash**, and the remaining **20k as a blind cheque**.
Problem: I couldn't cash that check. My account was still tied to Garen's father, and if I tried to use it, questions would follow.
So I did the next best thing.
I dropped the cheque on our front porch—figuring Garen's parents would find it, claim it, and never ask too many questions. A small gift from Lady Luck.
That night, like clockwork, I returned to my room and practiced the manual till my muscles trembled and sleep stole me away.
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**Three Days Later**
The pattern solidified.
Morning runs.
Manual training.
Visits to various casinos or gambling houses, always under different disguises.
By the end of the third day, I had raked in **200k**.
Still, none of that was translating into **real power**. Money was stacking up, sure—but I still had no way to bribe anyone without knowing *who* to bribe. No one worth befriending had crossed my path. And most importantly, I had no shortcut to strength.
Just the damn manual.
*Extremely Basic Body Strengthening Manual*.
It sounded dumb, and it felt even dumber when I realized how slow progress was.
The manual only had **one realm: Body Synchronization**.
After days of sweat and practice, I had only just scratched **5% completion**.
Doing the math, with my current pace, it would take me **2–3 months** of daily practice to fully complete it.
I didn't have three months.
I had **nine days**.
That thought kept echoing in my mind, louder and sharper with each passing second:
**Nine days left…**
**And death waiting at the edge of failure.**
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*To be continued...*