My Bad Karma

3.The Arrogant Asset and the Star-Tier Scam

"So, let me get this straight," Giyani said, crossing her arms and leaning against a marble pillar as the crowd of eager disciples thinned out. "You’re offering me a front-row seat to your little circus? No strings attached?"

Freza leaned back against the podium, looking way too comfortable for a guy who’d just pitched a cosmic pyramid scheme. "Not a circus, Giyani. An internship. Think of it as 'Independent Oversight.' You don’t trust me? Fine. Come see the books. Walk the floor. If I’m moving dirty money—or dirty souls—you’ll be the first one to spot the red flags."

"And what’s in it for you?" she countered, her eyes narrowing. "You don't strike me as the 'radical transparency' type. You're hiding something behind that thousand-watt smile."

"What’s in it for me is credibility," Freza said, his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "People trust you. You’re the nerd who actually reads the fine print in the star charts. If you’re standing next to me and you’re not screaming 'fraud,' it makes my job a whole lot easier. Plus, I like a challenge. You’re the only person in this zip code who’s actually keeping me on my toes. It’s a vibe check I need."

Giyani looked at his outstretched hand. It felt like shaking hands with a live wire, but she didn't have a choice. She couldn't stop him from the outside—not when the Elders were already drinking his Kool-Aid. She had to get on the inside.

"I’ll watch," she said, her voice cold. "But don't think for a second I'm 'joining' anything. I’m an auditor, Freza. And if I find a single decimal point out of place, I’m blowing the whistle so loud the Auditors of Heaven will hear it."

Freza’s grin didn't even flicker. "That’s the spirit! I’ll have my people send over the onboarding docs. Welcome to the team, Auditor Giyani. This is gonna be a blast."

Back in his private office, the "team player" mask didn't just slip—it disintegrated. Freza swiped a hand through the air, and a dozen holographic displays flared to life.

"Status report," he snapped.

"The 'Charity Karma' initiative is seeing a 400% buy-in rate," his AI responded. "Small-scale debt consolidation is proceeding as planned. We have a massive surplus of 'Karmic Trash' currently sitting in the temporary buffer. It’s getting hot, Tuan Freza. We need a permanent dump site before the overflow triggers a local catastrophe."

"I know, I know," Freza muttered, scrolling through a list of potential candidates. "We need someone with high spiritual liquidity. Someone with a massive ego and a clean slate. A big enough sponge to soak up the Sukamaju default and the new retail debt without popping immediately."

He stopped scrolling. A profile expanded, filling the center of the room. A guy with a jawline that could cut glass and jaded eyes that shouted 'I’m better than you.'

"Jianhui," Freza whispered. "The golden boy of the Tian Clan. Master Tier 3. Zero debt. Massive talent. And a personality like a bag of wet hammers."

"Bio-analysis confirms," the AI chimed. "Jianhui is a prime 'Bank Candidate.' He has high-capacity spiritual reservoirs but zero empathy-based outflows. He’s basically a high-yield savings account that’s never been touched. If we can get him to sign the 'Star Protector' waiver, he could hold the Sukamaju load for at least six months before his soul starts to fray."

"Perfect," Freza said, grabbing his green duster. "The kid thinks he’s a god. Let's go offer him a promotion."

The training grounds were a symphony of grunts and energy blasts. Jianhui was at the center of it, looking bored as he flicked bolts of blue lightning at training dummies that were already smoldering. A group of sycophants stood nearby, clapping like seals every time he broke something.

"You call that a workout?" Freza called out, stepping onto the scorched grass. "I’ve seen initiates with better follow-through."

The lightning stopped. Jianhui turned, his eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and mild interest. "Freza Peina. The guy who sells miracles to the peasants. You lost? The 'Help Desk' is back at the main hall."

"I'm not here to help the peasants today, Jianhui," Freza said, walking right into the kid’s personal space. "I’m here because I heard the best talent in the sect is hitting a glass ceiling. And frankly, it’s painful to watch."

Jianhui’s mouth twitched. "Glass ceiling? I’m Tier 3. I’m faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone my age. I don't hit ceilings. I break them."

"Sure, kid. You’re a big fish in a small pond," Freza shrugged, looking around the training field with mock pity. "But you’re still playing with lightning bolts. Meanwhile, the real players? They’re playing with the stars. They’re tapping into cosmic flows that would turn your brain to mush if you tried to touch 'em right now."

"Cosmic flows?" Jianhui stepped closer, his ego clearly hooked. "You’re talking about the Forbidden Arts. Nobody touches those. The side effects are a death sentence. The Elders say—"

"The Elders are scared," Freza interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, seductive hum. "They see the risk, but they don't have the hardware to handle the reward. But you? You’ve got the build for it. You’ve got the spiritual capacity. You’re basically a Ferrari being driven like a golf cart."

"What are you selling, Freza?"

"I’m not selling anything. I’m offering an upgrade. It’s called the 'Star Protector' technique. It’s an ancient protocol that lets you bypass standard cultivation limits. Instead of grinding for years to hit Tier 4, you just... open the tap. You let the universe do the heavy lifting."

Jianhui laughed, but it was a nervous sound. "And let the 'Heavenly Tribulation' fry me in ten seconds? No thanks. I’m arrogant, not stupid."

"That’s the beauty of it," Freza said, leaning in. "The 'Star Protector' system uses a distributed load-sharing network. You don't take the hit yourself. You act as a conduit. You channel the energy, and the 'friction'—the bad karma, the back-blast—gets routed into a secure buffer. You get the power, the universe handles the trash. It’s a literal no-brainer."

"A buffer? What buffer?"

"The 'Charity' network I just set up," Freza lied smoothly. "All those small-time debts? They act as a grounding wire. They provide the stability you need to handle the raw cosmic power. It’s synergy, Jianhui. You help the sect stay clean, and in return, the sect's collective energy supports your ascension. You become the hero, and you become a god. All in one afternoon."

Jianhui stared at Freza. He wanted to believe it. Every fiber of his privileged, over-achieving soul screamed that he deserved this shortcut. "What’s the catch? Why me?"

"Because you're the only one with enough 'skin in the game' to handle the flow," Freza said, pulling out a scroll that pulsed with a mesmerizing, starlight-blue glow. "I need a leader. A flagship user. Someone to show everyone what happens when you stop being afraid of the system and start owning it. So? You want to keep hitting dummies, or you want to start hitting back at the heavens?"

Jianhui looked at the scroll. He looked at his sycophants. Then he grabbed the quill Freza was holding. "Show me the tech."

"Just sign at the bottom," Freza whispered. "And welcome to the big leagues."

The moment Jianhui’s name hit the parchment, a surge of cold, empty energy slammed into his chest. It didn't feel like starlight. It felt like a thousand voices screaming in a language he didn't understand. His vision blurred, and for a second, he saw a vision of a ruined village and a mountain of black snow.

"Whoa," Jianhui gasped, stumbling back, his skin turning a sickly, pale grey for a heartbeat before snapping back to normal. "That was... intense."

"That’s the power hitting the pipes," Freza said, clapping him on the shoulder, his touch feeling like ice through Jianhui’s jubah. "It’ll settle. Your body just needs to calibrate to the new load. Go home. Meditate. Let the 'Star Protector' protocol integrate with your core. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up as a Tier 4. Guaranteed."

"I... yeah. Tomorrow," Jianhui muttered, looking confused and slightly nauseous. He turned and walked away, his gait unusually heavy, like he was carrying invisible lead weights in his pockets.

Freza watched him go, the smile on his face sharpening into a jagged edge.

"Transfer complete," the AI whispered. "The Sukamaju debt and 40% of the Charity Buffer have been successfully offloaded to Subject: Jianhui. System stability is back at 98%."

"Good," Freza said, turning on his heel. "The 'Bank' is open for business. Now let’s see how long the vault holds before the walls start to crack."

Late that night, in the luxury of the Tian estate, Jianhui wasn't celebrating his ascension. He was hunched over a porcelain basin in his bedroom, his body wracked with tremors.

He coughed, and something black and oily splashed against the white tiles. It smelled like rot. It smelled like failure.

"What... what did he do to me?" Jianhui wheezed, clutching his chest. He felt like there were millions of tiny needles crawling under his skin, each one carrying a piece of someone else's misery. He tried to circulate his energy, but his meridians felt clogged with sludge.

He looked in the mirror. His eyes weren't glowing with starlight. They were bloodshot, and deep, dark circles were forming under them. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a century.

And then, he heard it. A whisper in the back of his mind.

Help us... it’s so heavy... give it back...

"Shut up!" Jianhui screamed, smashing the mirror. But the whispers didn't stop. They just got louder, a tidal wave of borrowed debt crashing against the shores of his soul.

He was the Star Protector. He was the hero.

But as he collapsed onto the floor, vomiting more of that black bile, Jianhui realized the truth. He wasn't a hero. He was just a trash can. And Freza Peina had just filled him to the brim.