Chapter 28

  The dust was still settling. Cracks ran deep through the earth. Scorch marks, craters, and faint traces of lingering Death Qi marred the once-pristine sparring ring.

  Lan Xiaomei tended to her unconscious brother, Aria stood quietly with folded arms, and Wang Baole munched nervously on a snack, wide-eyed.

  A stern voice echoed across the grounds.

  “Impressive spar.”

  Everyone turned. Striding through the rubble was a middle-aged man clad in a dark martial robe with golden trim. His presence carried the calm authority of someone who had seen a hundred battles — and broken up half of them.

  “But what in the heavens did you two think you were doing? Are you trying to raze the entire training field?” His eyes swept over the shattered terrain with a grimace.

  He looked between Adam and the unconscious Xiaoyan.

  “Fighting with full intent is commendable. That kind of pressure is what forges true cultivators. But show some control next time — or at least some awareness that the sect can’t rebuild the arena every week.”

  He sighed, but the corner of his mouth curled in faint approval.

  “Still… good fight. Real grit on display.”

  He turned toward Adam.

  “Also, Adam — Grand Elder Guo is asking for you.”

  The tone in his voice shifted just slightly — enough to carry weight.

  “Don’t keep him waiting.”

  [Grand Elder Guo’s Abode – Late Afternoon]

  The scent of old parchment and incense lingered in the air as Adam stepped inside the quiet, serene hall. Golden light filtered through the high windows, casting intricate shadows from the hanging calligraphy scrolls.

  Grand Elder Guo sat cross-legged atop a meditation cushion, his eyes closed, but the moment Adam entered, they opened with clarity sharper than any sword.

  “You’ve done well, Adam,” Guo said, his voice calm but carrying undeniable weight. “Creating your own technique at the foundational level is no small feat. Such originality paves the way for true growth.”

  He gestured slightly, the movement elegant and precise.

  “You see, most cultivators follow the paths of others. They walk roads already paved — techniques refined and passed down through generations. But those roads weren’t built for them. They were built for someone else’s Dao.”

  He looked at Adam, a flicker of approval in his gaze.

  “You, however… are beginning to carve your own.”

  Guo then reached into his sleeve and retrieved a slender talisman, inscribed with ancient runes. With a thought, his divine consciousness flowed into Adam. A gentle pressure swept over Adam’s body, then paused — like a ripple meeting resistance.

  Guo frowned slightly.

  “Let’s see how your fate has changed… in particular, your lifespan.”

  Moments passed as he read deeper, using a secret technique of divination.

  Then — his brow furrowed.

  “…Strange.”

  He looked at Adam, eyes narrowed in thought.

  “Your lifespan — it’s only 112 years.”

  “You should have gained 200. Why is it only that much?”

  He pondered, then muttered, “Could it be… your Grade 9 aptitudes?”

  Adam didn’t respond immediately. Internally, a thought surfaced — cold and measured.

  “It’s the deal with Zayk.

  I gave up my natural lifespan in exchange for that ability… and the power to survive.

  I’m already 79 years old, if you count what he took. A normal human only lives 100 years, and with Foundation Establishment, you get an additional 200… but I only got 70.

  The 1 year from Body Tempering and the 20 from Qi Condensation were also added separately. All of it checks out. That bastard didn’t cheat me.

  He just… didn’t give anything extra.”

  Breaking the silence, Adam asked, “Master… is this much lifespan… bad?”

  Guo leaned back, folding his hands. His expression softened.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “No. Not bad. Just… tighter.”

  “It’s still enough to reach the next realm — if you stay focused. Half a day of cultivation, consistently. And with your Grade 9 aptitudes, your progress will outpace most. You’ll just have to avoid squandering time.”

  His eyes met Adam’s.

  “If anything, it might push you harder. Time pressure makes diamonds, after all.”

  Grand Elder Guo took a slow breath, his expression growing more solemn.

  “Adam, there’s something else you should know.”

  His eyes met Adam’s with intent seriousness.

  “In thirty-one years, our Sect Leader will begin his ascension to the Soul Transformation Realm.”

  Adam blinked. That was no small announcement. The Soul Transformation Realm was a threshold few crossed — a symbol of prestige and power.

  Guo continued, pride creeping into his voice.

  “Once he succeeds, our sect will rejoin the ranks of the true powers of the world. With a Soul Transformation cultivator among our leadership, we’ll reclaim our position.”

  His tone then shifted, more reflective.

  “Long ago — millions of years back — our sect was far greater. A true giant among sects. But after a series of disasters, internal strife, and wars… we declined. And as we fell, the vultures circled.”

  He stared out the open window, watching clouds roll across the horizon.

  “One of the few who protected us in those dark times was His Highness Siegfried. When he grew strong enough, he stood between us and our enemies. He could’ve taken leadership of our sect — we offered it.”

  Guo chuckled softly, almost wistfully.

  “But he refused. Said he had no interest in leading a sect. He wanted to change the world, not just one institution.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “So instead, we became one of the few sects under the Ebonreich Empire’s protection. It's been that way ever since. His Highness ascended 260 years ago… and now, some of his descendants have started showing interest in our sect once more.”

  Adam narrowed his eyes slightly.

  “Why didn’t they act sooner? Right after his ascension?”

  Guo gave a small smile, though his eyes remained wary.

  “They didn’t have the strength to. And truth be told, some ties remained between us — old friendships, shared history. But things have been changing.”

  He rose from his cushion, walking slowly to a nearby map hanging on the wall — marked with borders and shifting power lines.

  “Lately, His descendants have been gathering strength. Taking in elders from smaller sects, assimilating them one by one. Their power is growing, and so is their ambition.”

  Guo turned back to Adam, his voice firm.

  “They’ve become more authoritative. And if what I suspect is true, they’re looking to conquer more territory. Wars have been increasing across the continent.”

  He looked at Adam with intensity now.

  “But if our Sect Leader succeeds in his breakthrough… everything changes. A Soul Transformation cultivator is not someone they can pressure so easily. They’ll be forced to give him respect — and some measure of authority among the major powers.”

  Adam remained silent, absorbing every word. A storm was brewing, and the path forward was no longer just about cultivation — it was about power, legacy, and the tides of empires.

  As Adam turned to leave Grand Elder Guo’s abode, his eyes caught something on the far table — a small, neglected pile of old books, their covers worn and edges faded with time. Some were bound in beast hide, others stitched together with threadbare string.

  He paused. “Master, what are these books?”

  Elder Guo looked over lazily, then waved a hand dismissively.

  “Ah, those? Ancient tomes on outdated array formations. Most of them require materials that are either extinct or impossibly rare to find in this era.”

  He shrugged. “They’re of no use to the sect anymore. If you’re interested, take them. Better they be read than collect dust for another thousand years.”

  Adam bowed slightly. “Thank you, Master.”

  Gathering the books into his storage pouch, Adam returned to his abode. Once inside, he released Red from the beast pouch. The small white fox leapt out with a joyful yip, eyes gleaming with mischief and affection. It rubbed against Adam’s leg, then hopped into his lap, purring like a contented cat.

  Chuckling, Adam scratched behind Red’s ears. “Missed me, huh?”

  Red responded with a quick lick to his wrist, tail swishing excitedly.

  With the fox curled beside him, Adam placed the books before him and began sifting through them one by one. The first few were dense with complex diagrams and faded notations, some written in runic script he couldn’t immediately recognize. Still, his growing knowledge in cultivation helped him piece some of it together.

  When he opened the fourth book, however, he froze.

  The title, written in a strange overlapping of languages, caught his attention. The first title was in this world’s script, something about “Intermediate Tier Formation Arrays.” But layered on top of it — almost as if hovering faintly in his vision — were words in plain, unmistakable English:

  “My Travel Diary.”

  Adam narrowed his eyes. “What the hell…?”

  Curious, he opened the book. The first few pages seemed normal enough, filled with notes and diagrams on arrays… but nestled between the lines, almost hidden in the text, was a message written in English:

  “Those who wish to know the world must say the word… ‘proceed.’”

  Adam hesitated. The presence of English — in a book clearly written long before any Earth-born interference — made his skin prickle.

  Still, he whispered, “Proceed.”

  The moment the word left his lips, the book shuddered in his hands and then rose into the air, pages fluttering without wind. A glowing sigil burst from its center and the entire tome dissolved into light, which surged forward and slammed into Adam’s forehead.

  As the light from the book surged into Adam’s consciousness, the world around him vanished.

  In its place, a vast cosmic panorama unfolded—endless stars, nebulas coiling like dragons through the void, planets of all shapes and colors spinning lazily through space.

  A voice echoed in his mind. Casual. Slightly amused. Definitely human.

  “Hey. If you’re hearing this, congrats, you unlocked my interstellar diary. I’m not sure who you are, but if the book activated, you’ve got some potential.”

  A figure appeared in the void—a silhouette of a man wearing what looked like a modern hoodie, lazily floating in space like a bored god.

  “Name’s not important. I’m just a guy from Earth who got lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. Long story short, I cultivated my ass off, reached something called the Cosmic Sovereign Realm, and then decided to do the only logical thing: explore the universe.”

  He snapped his fingers, and the stars around Adam shifted. Worlds flashed by like slides in a fever dream.

  A medieval city where robed wizards cast reality-warping spells with complex runes.

  A war-torn continent where people screamed and punched the air—literal aura tearing mountains apart.

  A golden empire where individuals had beasts fused into their blood, unlocking ancestral powers.

  A mechanized planet where cultivation was done through spiritual circuits embedded into metallic spines.

  “Here’s what I learned,” the voice continued, now with a bit of excitement.

  “I used to be a total nerd about this stuff back on Earth. Power systems, magic rules, game mechanics, you name it—I’d spend hours diving into wiki pages, dissecting anime logic, comparing cultivation systems from novels. So when I landed here? I didn’t panic. I analyzed.”

  “Cultivation? Magic? Aura? Qi-tech? Scientific tech? Psychic resonance? Divine harmonics? Bro, there are more systems than there are stars.”

  He laughed, the sound echoing with awe.

  “And even within each system, there are dozens of subsystems. You’re on a world where cultivation is element-based. Makes sense. But some worlds? It’s all about bloodlines. Others? Your cultivation root determines everything. Hell, I saw one where people cultivate dreams—literally powered up by how vivid their imaginations were.”

  More worlds flashed past Adam. A man rising to godhood through the power of imagination. A teenage girl obliterating galaxies by mastering music cultivation. A demonic realm where power came from cannibalized time.

  “Here’s the kicker: out of all the systems I’ve seen, cultivation—actual cultivation—is one of the very few that lets you achieve stable immortality. Not the fake kind that gets eaten by entropy or collapses when the world resets. I mean true, unmoving, no-bullshit immortality.”

  The figure stretched out, arms behind his head, drifting through stars like it was a jacuzzi.

  “I don’t know who you are, but if you’re reading this… this world? It’s just one tiny pebble in a sea of madness. And I mean madness.”

  A pause.

  “To anyone hearing this—good luck. I just wanted to travel, to learn, to understand everything. And let me tell you…”

  He exhaled deeply.

  “All of us from Earth have only seen 8% of the entire universe. This is way bigger than you think it is. We’ve been frogs in the well the whole time.”

  “This universe is absolutely, gloriously, pants-shittingly insane.”

  Then his voice softened, almost nostalgic.

  “But damn… it’s worth it.”

  With that, the stars collapsed back into a singular point of light and slammed into Adam’s forehead once again.

  He gasped and stumbled backward into his abode, hand over his chest, heart racing. Red squeaked in confusion, pawing at his leg.

  Adam’s pupils dilated as cosmic knowledge settled in his mind—not just of arrays, but of systems, worlds, truths th

  at made him feel like an ant staring up at infinity.

  And all he could mutter, eyes wide, was:

  “.. fuck me and my curious mind, I clearly saw the warning signs and I still walked right into it”

  “.....”

  “.....”

  “Damn”