A Qi cultivator had challenged me. I had to be careful about how to handle the situation. One misstep—which alphas never make—could very well end my fate as an alpha cultivator. I meditated deeply upon my next move for one quarter of a second, and decided to proceed with the most obvious one.

Step one: Establish Dominance.

I strode to the local M*c Donalds, which was inhabited by roughly a hundred gangbangers on mopeds, bicycles, roller boards, and other such gangbanger vehicles. They whispered and murmured, parting to make way wherever I laid my gaze.

“Oi! That’s him?”

“That’s gotta be.”

“Jesus Christ he’s real…”

“Hot,” hissed a girl, tugging on the hem of her shirt.

One snapped a photograph.

“Hey, cut it out or that crazy feather shit will have our heads!”

“But…” The photographer protested. “C’mon. He’s just so—”

“God fucking damn!” A man who exited the M*c Donalds startled as he looked up at me, then took a quick sidestep to move out of the way. “...has to be photoshopped...”

He peered after me as I ventured into the greasy cavern decorated in a celebration of the human desire for a quick and satiating meal. I drew a deep breath, allowing the smell of deep fried food to enter my nose. Once, I had relished the rare fortune of chancing upon a half eaten nugget. It felt like more than a lifetime ago.

I set my eyes on the only Qi cultivator in the room, a young man with long black hair, beak-like nose, and black martial artist’s robes decorated with red feather filigree. The man dropped a h*appy meal hamburger and his jaw.

“The audacity…” he gasped.

“You must be the one known as Feathered Blade.” I eased into the seat next to him, leaning comfortably close with my arm on the backrest.

The Qi cultivator staggered backwards and coughed ketchup in shock. “Y-you dare?”

Already, I felt Big-Dick energy condensing around me. Rather than saving it to increase my strength, I immediately cultivated it to enhance my dominant posture, causing the cultivator to swallow.

“I am Titan Maximus Chadman.” I slapped the soggy letter on the table before him. “I am here to accept your challenge, and, in the name of fairness, to issue a warning, since you challenged me like a man. Two weeks from now, you will die. Kill me now if you wish to live.”

He had the look of a man suffering from an aneurysm. His eyelids twitched. He trembled, as did the tableware as his Qi slipped from his control.

“This Feathered Blade cannot fathom the depths of your arrogance. A Qiless external cultivator dares to issue a warning? To this Feathered Blade, one in a hundred genius, who mastered the first seven stages of Splendid Wing foundation building in under two years, and is half-step to establishing his Winged Core?”

“One in a hundred. That’s not a whole lot is it?” whispered a gangbanger in a M*c Donalds apron to another.

Luckily for the two, Feathered Blade’s wrath wasn’t powerful enough to be lethal. I presume they were spared due to their ability to flip burgers, for an entity as amoral as a Qi cultivator would never have let such an insult slide otherwise.

Just as I was bound by the Dao of Chadness, most Qi cultivators were bound by the bizarre conventions of ‘face’.

Feathered Blade would have lost face if he went back on his honor in front of his men.

Thus, I left M*c Donalds unharmed, having taken a decisive victory in the war before the first battle. As an alien to Earth the Qi cultivator would not understand this, but his actions had not cemented him as a great and gracious cultivator who wasn’t intimidated by what he perceives as a non-threat.

Non.

In the hearts of gangbangers he had acted ‘like a pussy’. I saw doubt written in their faces and fears dwell behind their gazes.

Secretly, they pondered, did I make a mistake siding with the cultivators? Did I make a mistake turning on my countrymen?

The intelligent among them would change their ways and repent before two weeks were up.

The rest I would educate personally.

Step two: Investigation.

After returning from M*c Donalds, I sauntered through the streets and interviewed my neighbours about Feathered Blade.

A middle-aged lady, a former office worker, knew to guide me to a person who’d been present when the cultivators took over the neighbourhood. As a show of gratitude, I fixed her car by slapping the engine.

The witness, a retired firefighter, could only give me an undetailed description, but guided me to a young boy who’d recorded the fight. To thank the old man, I chopped some firewood for him.

The teenage boy, a deathly depressed fellow born with the unfortunate appearance of a virgin cultivator, was kind enough to let me view his cellphone footage of the events.

It was a wobbly recording of muzzle flashes, orders. Bullets glanced off of feathered capes. Three cultivators glided around a dark street turned battlefield, leaping between armored vehicles, slicing open necks and removing heads with their feet like a trio of harpies.

From this I gathered the following:

Combat techniques of the Humming Blade sect utilized hardened feather-blades, claws, and feathered spirit beast armor further reinforced by Qi. Their movement techniques allowed flight and speeds thrice that of peak-human condition. I estimated all three to be near or at the peak foundation stage of an average Qi cultivation path. In terms of absolute combat effectiveness, Feathered Blade had me outmatched four times over.

A daunting gap to overcome within the span of two weeks, even for an alpha cultivator.

I grew excited by the harsh training I would need to push myself through.

As a thanks for his help, I sat down with the teenager. Told him of the benefits of exercise goal oriented living, because he seemed so down. To be fulfilled, you need a purpose. It doesn’t matter what’s happening around you. It doesn’t matter what your drive is, whether it’s being the best at something, finding a warm place to sleep, or getting a friend. Find a goal and stick to it. Stick to it like you’re ready to bend reality with your bare hands, and soon you’ll notice that you’re in charge.

He watched me with rapt attention as I showed him a few simple routines he could do in his own home, even during trying times, such as during the cultivation apocalypse.

Come evening, the kid managed to do four curls with 2kg barbells, a single women’s push-up, and two clean squats, before collapsing from exhaustion.

“That’s it.” I clapped his back, offering the kid some water mixed with a simple Chad alchemy post-cultivation boost I had lying around in my pocket. “See, you can do it. It doesn’t matter if you start from the very bottom. It doesn’t matter if others lift more than you. What matters is you started, and now you’re going to progress, and keep progressing, growing stronger every day. Sometimes steadily. Sometimes slow. Sometimes quick. But always, always progressing.”

Fire of passion burned in the teen’s eyes. “Thank you so much, Mr. Chadman. I...”

I saw his hesitation and rubbed the boy’s shoulder. “If you’ve got something to say, say it out loud. Words give strength to our thoughts.”

He swallowed a lump, fists tightening. “Mr. Chadman, you’re so strong it feels unreal. What made you like that? What drives you, Mr. Chadman?”

I drew a deep breath, smiling. After a brief contemplation, I spoke from my heart, “Seeing the switch flick in the eyes of kids who don’t see a way out of their current situation, seeing hope ignite in hearts driven to dark corners, and seeing confidence swell in those prepared to change their own world. Seeing others change their lives. That’s what I live for.”

I didn’t tell the kid the whole story, of course. This is something that had clarified in my heart shortly after seeing the former asylum patients, now demonic Qi cultivators, work hard to tame their new demonic headmates. What I truly wished to do was to make the best of the poor situation Earth was in.

Alpha cultivation wasn’t suited for everyone. It could never be taught across Earth. But, if we expelled the alien cultivators, while keeping their secrets and magic here… Mixed technology and magic for the benefit of all. If we did that, we might be able to give rise to something new that hadn’t been before. A place where no little kids had to lick moldy bread on Christmas Eve. A place of plenty, wonder, and greatness.

That dream had become my lighthouse.

And it was also a little heavy to lay on this teenager, who was only just beginning to see hope in his own life.

“Are you Jesus?” he asked.

Laughter bubbled from me. “Ohohoho-ho! Jesus? No. I am an alpha cultivator.”

“Could you please teach me?” He asked, voice and gaze brimming firmness and passion. “Could you teach me your ways?”

I leaned back, considering it.

Could this boy potentially become a junior bruh of the Gigachad sect? He had a spark in his spirit and boldness to pose the question. A promising candidate if there ever was any.

I did need to begin considering the establishment of the Gigachad sect properly, for a powerful ensemble of junior bruhs could boost my own Big-Dick energy generation. Ideally, I would also cultivate with a gathering of soulbound brothers and sisters from various cultivation paths, but my friends at Happyland Asylum were not strong enough. Not yet.

The timing wasn’t optimal. Two weeks was not a lot of time to prepare for Feathered Blade.

However, it is not the Dao of Chad to squander opportunities whenever stars don’t align. We alpha cultivators make our opportunities.

“I could,” I told the boy.

His face brightened with the widest of smiles.

“But I must warn you. Alpha cultivation requires absolute dedication to the way of Chadness. Before you can begin your journey across the stages of the External Chad Transformation realm, you will need to align your spirit with Chadness. Quitting will no longer be in your vocabulary. Likewise, complaints and negativity must be eliminated. You will master your anger and inner demons. You will need to grow from a novice to a master craftsman in tempering your soul and ego, moulding it into the best version of yourself. It may take months. It may take years. It may even take decades. Frustration will court you and your inner vices will tempt you. But I will say this, if you do make it. If you align yourself with your inner Chad and become an alpha cultivator, you will live your best life.”

Doubt flickered on his expression, and I did not blame the boy, for I too had harbored doubts in the early years of studying the H*-Man action figurine.

“Master Chad—”

I held up my palm. “Alpha cultivators don’t call anyone their master. Should you accept, you may call me bruh, big-bruh, or simply by my Alpha cultivator name: Titan Maximus Chadman.”

He nodded, exuding determination of a world champion. “Big-bruh. I’m ready to change my life forever!”

I clasped his hand firmly. “Welcome to the Gigachad sect, bruh.”

“Thank you, big-bruh!”

I told him to continue with the work-out routine I’d given him before, and prepared to leave, when he asked me one last question.

“How did you tame your inner vices, big-bruh?”

“Ah.” Oh, the memories, bittersweet as they were. I reminisced the hours spent at an internet cafe, where I’d cultivated inner calm amidst a storm of rage, learning the ways of acting with the gentleness of a kindergarten teacher to malicious 10-year-olds who wanted nothing more than to hurt everything around them. “Personally, I played L*ague of L*gends ranked, and other competitive online games, until I no longer blamed teammates for my losses. However, everyone’s journey to inner Chadness differs. Stick to the cultivation routine for now. Focus on believing in yourself. We can talk about what comes after later.”

Step Three: Preparations to take on a Qi cultivator.

I didn’t return to Happyland Asylum until late at night. Batman, Bane, and Tyson had returned from their mission. I had tasked them with tracking down a zookeeper, a welder, and a boxing coach. All three were successful.

To advance on the Jaw Reformation stage, I needed a foe with powerful strikes.

The following day, I consulted the zookeeper about our options. She was a virtuous lady who’d kept the animals fed after everything went down, and after assuring her that no harm would come to her ward, agreed to lend me a young silverback gorilla named Grog.

I then convinced the welder to fix the gorilla with armored titanium mitts and a helmet for headbutts. Understanding the urgency of my request, he promised to have them delivered the very next day.

The boxing coach laughed.

“The world’s ended so sure! Why not! I’ll coach your goddamn gorilla to hit you. Why not,” he said, and agreed gladly to aid in my endeavours to create a sparring partner.

All the pieces came together three days later.

For a gorilla, Grog was a giant. 2 meters at his shoulders, weighing a little north of 350kg of primal lion-skull busting crocodile-jaw crushing strength. He could snap a human into a pretzel. His regular punches cracked concrete.

And now, equipped with two slabs of spiked metal knuckledusters and a solid metal helmet, with one boxing lesson under his belt, Grog was ready to one punch low-stage cultivators to an early and permanent retirement. In other words, he was ready to help me take strides in the Jaw Reformation stage.

I cracked my neck, giving my chin a quick knuckle-tap. “Release the Grog,” I said.

The zookeeper petting the gorilla knelt beside him and offered him a lollipop, while pointing at me. “Hey Groggy-boggy-honeypoodle~ See this lolly? It’s banana flavored. Your favorite!”

Grog groaned happily. He reached for it, but the zookeeper drew her hand back.

“Nu-uh!” She wagged her other finger. “I’m sowwy but can’t give my Groggy-boggy fwiend this lolly. You see, it’s my last one.”

Grog let out a confused and frustrated bellow, slapping the ground.

“Uh-hu. Big sis Penny is sad too. You see, that man.” Groggy’s eyes followed her finger to me. “That man over there, he stole the rest of them. Stole all of them lollies! He stole them and said all villain like ‘Hahaa, I’m evil. You won’t get these banana-flavored lollies back, not unless Grog can break my chin’.”

Grog raised a sceptical brow, growling.

“He said that, Groggy, he really did! So Groggy, I can’t give this to you, not unless you go there and smack his chin, so he’ll tell me where the rest of the lollies are.” It was somewhat underhanded to trick a gentle soul like Grog to violence, but I would make it up later.

Grog let out the bellow befitting of a king of the jungle and hammered his chest, accepting the quest. The giant of muscle kept on bellowing, spit flying through his deadly teeth, as he charged at me.

“Go Groggy! Hit him! Hit him in the face!”

The ground rumbled as the living tank rolled towards me. To prepare myself for gorilla mauling, I assumed one of the most powerful defensive postures in Alpha cultivation. I placed my fists on my hip, raised my chin high, and tilted my body in a pose not too dissimilar to those utilized in bodybuilding competitions.

Despite funneling all the Big-Dick energy I was generating into my chin, the first hit nearly knocked me unconscious.

***

Grog not know how lolly thief not fall. Grog very much confuse!

Metal smelly bang-bang-metal-man make Grog shiny weapon. Good weapon. Grog even taught how to swing by puny, but skilled, swing-swing-fist-man. Puny man. Good swing-swing. Grog assume it all so that Grog can better hit lolly thief.

Penny sound like lying, when saying the handsome alpha-male of puny humans take lolly. Grog know that alpha-males not take things like lollies. Alpha-males don’t need to take like that. However, Grog trust Penny, because Penny nice. Very nice. Headpats are many. Lollies are many too.

What confuse Grog very much is why human alpha-male stay standing?

First time Grog swing for face, much blood, some swaying. Grog know he hit good!

Tenth time, more blood, more swaying. Humans yell at alpha-male human. Maybe telling him to run, because he bleeding so much? Instead, alpha-male human change how he stand, raise hands above head, flex muscle.

Many many swings pass. Grog weary, but keep going, because lolly thief must be punished.

Grog eat and sleep and rest for night. Alpha-human does same.

Then, in morning, Grog challenged again!

Two sleepies pass. Then three. Then four. Then five. Then more than Grog fingers can count, which is many!!! Blood flies when Grog hits alpha-man. How can he stand? How not die?

Grog contemplate this, while swinging. Getting better at swinging too. Swing-swing-fist-man show Grog how to keep arm hooked for more power. How to stay far away and use Grog arm-length for advantage. Swing-swing-fist-man show Grog many human technique and trick. Make Grog strong!

Even bang-bang-metal-man, who smelly like metal, make Grog stronger. Add more weight to murderfists. Add spikes to murderfists. Grog fists make more blood from the alpha-man. Break bone! Grog hear the crunch. Alpha-man sways, almost fall!

But still keep standing.

How?

Grog not understand.

Not until even many more sleeps pass, and a strange woman-who-stalks-like-animal sat beside Grog, while he ate a banana.

“Sup,” she said.

Grog growled back in reply, expressing his confusion with alpha-male.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She laughed. “Years he’s been here. I thought he was a regular wacko like the rest of us, playing with that H*-Man figurine. Sure, he was built and all, but there’s plenty of guys who get jacked in asylum. Then the apocalypse happens, and he’s all ‘you’re under my protection’. Next thing I know, he’s wrestling demon dogs, fighting gangsters, and now having a gorilla remake his chin!” She howled with laughter. “The guy’s a blast.”

Grog inquired more about this H*-Man action figurine.

“Ah, it’s from an old TV show from the… eighties?”

Grog told her that he was eleven years old.

“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t have seen it.”

Grog asked about where the alpha-man’s strength came from.

“Hell if I know. Says he’s the seventh head of the Gigachad sect. An Alpha cultivator, whatever that means. I don’t get many lucid moments with him, so we don’t chat…” The woman make sad-sad face. “But it’s got something to do with ‘Big-Dick energy’. You ever heard of that?”

Grog’s eyes widen. Grog had heard, and he now understood what made Alpha-man human so powerful. He lived life like true alpha. Of course he was strong.

Grog bellow and make noise, frantically explain to woman-friend of big knowledge held by Grog!

“Wow! Really?” She beam at grog with happy face. “Grog that’s awesome! I bet he’d love to meet him. Maybe they know each-other? You think we could arrange a meeting?”

Grog unsure, but promise to woman-friend that Grog try.

“Hold on. I’ll tell Batman, Bane, and Tyson. They’ll come with us and we can look together.”

Grog express uncertainty again. Still need to swing-swing at alpha-male.

“Nah. I think he’s ready. Hold on, looks like he needs my help with something!”

***

Ten days after beginning cultivating with Grog, one day before my bout with Feathered Blade. Courtyard of Happyland Asylum.

I swung my chin at a block of concrete, shattering it into a million pieces. Cackling madly, Nelly swung a metal bat at my chin, again and again.

“AAAHAAHAHAA! BONK BONK! AHAHAHA!”

The bat dented, again and again.

“You may stop Nelly. Thank you.”

“Hehehee! Bat go bonk-bonk!” She poked her tongue out, happy with herself.

In two weeks I’d nearly crossed the entire Jaw Reformation stage. Early days had been a battle of life and death, with every punch threatening to send me into the afterlife. But, as days had piled on, bit by bit, the structure of my jaw had transformed.

It had always been rather masculine, but now it was downright squarish, with sharp angles reminding me of the sixth head of the Gigachad sect. Once I killed Feathered Blade with my jaw, I could push through to the next stage of External transformation: the Muscles-on-Muscles stage.

But first, I had a Qi cultivator to eliminate.