There was a rumble, and Mu disappeared from before them, falling down into a hole in the earth. The hole sealed itself as he went, leaving the three remaining cultivators alone.

“Well then,” Hong chirped with his usual laconic tone, as he moved to stand protectively in front of Yuan and Xian. “Hopefully he’s alright. I’d go after him, but I suspect that we’re about to have company.”

A burst of yellow light flew up from his hand, illuminating the tunnel and proving his prediction correct. Two transmigrators were approaching them, one from either end of the tunnel. Unlike before - when they were roughly singing didactic children’s poetry - neither of them made a sound, their footsteps utterly silent as they padded down the halls. 

The one approaching from the tunnel ahead was a young woman, the one from behind a man; both were dressed all in black with masks covering their eyes, although the woman’s clothes were a titch more stylish than the man’s. Both held rapiers in their hands, and it was clear from their stance that they knew how to use them. (Or had a Super Ultimate Cheat Skill that corrected their stance for them. With transmigrators that was always an option: you could never quite tell if they knew what they were doing.)

“So, you’ll be the System Users,” Hong commented merrily, grabbing at an object within his sleeve. The woman froze, eyeing Hong warily, before once more beginning to proceed.

“Oh? That’s a rather silly conclusion you’ve reached.” She said sweetly.

Hong rolled his eyes. “Spare me the counter-arguments. I can see your eyes flicking to a point in the air approximately three feet distant from your body, and hanging there as if reading something - there’s all but certainly some sort of status page or text blurb hanging there that only you can see.”

Yuan jumped again, earning a strange look from Xian, but the woman just smiled. “A wiseacre, I see. This should be fun. I’ll humour you, then - yes, I’m a System User, but there’s no way that knowledge can greatly assist you.”

She spread her arms wide, the glint of victory in her eyes. “You see, my victory is assured - I gain experience points by sleeping.”

“Experience points?” Yuan parroted in surprise. Xian gave him a strange look, one corner of her mouth turning up.

“A bizarre artificial variety of qi some transmigrators use, which eschews the textured and tonal experience of cultivation for an alternative artificial growth chart based purely off numbers. One of the stranger cheats out there - it’s a pretty flat way of living your life, that gives you the strength of a cultivator but none of the joys of cultivation.”

The female System User smirked. “Complain all you want. The fact is I have a cultivation base you could never even dream of - every moment I spend in slumberland, my cultivation improves still further. For years now I’ve been collecting those sweet sweet experience points, so you can put that blade away, sweetie - it won’t help you here.”

The last remark was directed at Hong, who was still holding something in his sleeves. Hong appeared unperturbed by this insult. The man behind them said nothing, watching the entire affair with a self-serving sneer on his face.

“Now,” the woman said, “let me show you a taste of true power.”

And pointing her blade at Hong, she sprang forward. Yuan gave a gasp as she moved - he’d been here for months now, and he’d never seen anyone with such fast qinggong. It was like watching a lightning bolt sprint, a pure arc of speed and qi.

She sprang forward faster than the eye could see, blade arcing down for Hong’s head. Hong stepped out of the way as her blade hit the ground, blowing a hole into it.

“Pretty impressive, eh,” she said, as she brought her blade up. Once more Hong stepped back, the distance between her sword and his skin so thin a slice of paper couldn’t slide through it. The blast wave as it brushed by Hong knocked a hole into the ceiling. “Super Speed, Super Strength, Super Dexterity - and it doesn’t end there. I have cheats enough to last for days.”

Hong drew his hands out of his sleeves, revealing… a triangle. He held the tiny musical instrument in his hands as if it were a deadly weapon, poised to deliver the killing blow.

The woman snorted at the sight, a pillar of flame consuming her sword. She swung the blade overhead into a brutal overhand thrust, leaping to deliver the killing blow.

Hong dinged his triangle.

Ding.

The transmigrator fell flat on her face, all her skills deactivating at once.

“Wha-” she started to say, before Hong kicked her in the face.

Yuan winced at the splatter.

“It doesn’t pay to rely on cheat skills,” Hong said, looking the other System User dead in the eye. “They, as much as anything else, rely on the Eternal Law of the Dao; and like all else that comes from the Law, can be countered by one familiar with its distinct tone.”

“You defeated her System by hitting the right musical note?” The man said. He looked nervous, but his confidence had not altogether left him. “That’s impressive - your musical techniques must be at another level. But you don’t think that will do anything to me, do you?”

“No,” Hong said, putting away the triangle. “I don’t. You haven’t done anything yet, which implies that your System lacks the same aggressive combat capabilities. You either have a System specialising in some weird and idiosyncratic activity - like owning an ice cream shop - or a System which grants you unique combat abilities, such as the ability to steal people’s skills or the one which magically summons guards to come to your aid when you’re in danger. In none of these cases do I expect a triangle to be particularly useful.”

The transmigrator said nothing, and Hong continued.

“Of course, there’s no way you have one of the idiosyncratic Systems - those are mostly tied to specific plots, and anyways the complete lack of any combat capabilities provided by most of them imply that they would be useless here. Ergo, you have a System with unique combat capabilities, ones which don’t attack me directly but rather through some strange skill.”

The System User bit his lip, and Hong grinned. He knew he had him, and the System User knew Hong had him too. It wasn’t just his abductive reasoning.

It was his level.

You see, this System User was a skill stealer, and could see the levels of his opponents’ skills when choosing which one to steal. And what he saw was absolutely terrifying.

And so on and so forth - there were dozens more techniques after that (including, strangely enough, Sacral Dance of the Mystic Lima Bean Sect at a whopping level 60). The man was a monster, well beyond what the transmigrator could ever hope to annoy, nevermind deal with. His dead colleague had been level 40; Mu was only slightly above level 60. The skill stealer himself was nearing level 70.

Worse yet the increase in strength across levels was not linear, but exponential - the transmigrator hadn’t a hope of winning, not normally. The man hadn’t even used his final technique, ‘Thunderous Heavens Annihilation Art,’ yet. 

The transmigrator knew there was only one technique he could try.

He could steal Hong’s Thunderous Heavens Annihilation Art before Hong had a chance to use it, and use it on Hong first.

Hong stood there placidly, watching him, waiting. His face was dull, his arms tucked once more into his sleeves, as if he didn’t much care what the transmigrator did. The silent apathy infuriated the transmigrator more than any declaration of superiority ever could.

He reached out his hand, qi arcing across his fingers, and pulled. There was a tugging sensation, a vaguely gelatinous, but invisible, force departing from Hong’s body. The feeling was unusually oily, as if the transmigrator was imbibing a great quantity of liquified sealant. With a sickening thud it settled in the transmigrator’s own body, then spread through his meridians, infusing him with power.

He smirked as he felt the massive boost in strength and endurance. His level counter hadn’t started ticking yet, but he knew he wouldn’t have gone up this many levels in one go in years, not since he betrayed and killed his own master.

He flexed his muscles arrogantly, beginning to stride confidently towards Hong. “I bet you’re wondering what just happened, and why you now feel so much weaker. You see, I just stole your Thunderous Heavens Annihilation Art.”

Hong said nothing, further confirming his despair in the mind of the skill stealer. The latter cackled evilly.

“And weakness alone isn’t all you’ll be feeling; doubtless there’s a sense of nausea, as the sudden crippling of your soul ravages your body. You can’t lose a skill that integral to you without some negative feedback. No,” the skill stealer said, flexing his muscles, “this fight is already over.”