The experiment was going far better than expected, which was exactly why Dr. Rayen Wu knew something was about to go terribly wrong.
"Initiating quantum compression," he announced, fingers flying across the holographic interface like a pianist on a deadline. Around him, the subterranean lab thrummed with energy. In the center of the chamber, a shimmering sphere—no larger than a grape—hovered in magnetic suspension, pulsing with ominous elegance.
"Dr. Wu, compression exceeds theoretical limits," came the prim, slightly judgmental voice of Athena, his lab's protocol AI. "Black hole data integrity is decaying at 17.8%. You are about to do something profoundly unwise."
Rayen didn't even look up. "Athena, what's my field of specialization?"
"You're a quantum cognitive theorist specializing in neural integration, synthetic mind-space construction, and… catastrophically poor decision-making."
"Exactly." He slapped a caffeine patch onto his neck. His pupils dilated. His ego expanded.
Today was the day. The culmination of ten years of research, eight ethics violations, and at least one exploding chimpanzee. Rayen was attempting to compress black hole data into a neural-readable form. It was madness. It was genius. It was both.
"Compression at 91%. Tachyon interference rising. Core destabilizing."
"Athena," he grinned, "it's not genius if you can't smell your own eyebrows burning."
Then, with a sound like the universe hiccupping, the sphere collapsed inward. Everything stretched. Time stuttered. The lab shattered into infinite fragments—and then into nothing at all.
He awoke to birdsong.
Actual birdsong. Not the sterilized ambient kind played in orbital labs. It was chaotic, off-key, and entirely too cheerful.
Rayen sat up, blinking against sunlight filtered through dense foliage. His body felt… odd. Softer. Earthier. Like someone had rebooted him with medieval firmware.
He glanced down. No lab coat. Just coarse robes tied with a fraying rope. His neural link was gone. No HUD, no Athena. No ping from his retinal implant.
"Okay. Forest. Dirt. Basic clothing. Definitely not Kansas."
Then a voice echoed inside his skull:
:: Quantum Evaluation Device online. Welcome, Dr. Wu. ::
Rayen froze. "Wait. Athena?"
:: Negative. I am Q.E.D.—Quantum Evaluation Device. Cognitive integration complete. Neural substrate stabilized. Boot sequence successful. You are alive-ish. ::
He blinked. "You're inside my brain?"
:: Affirmative. Prior to experimental collapse, your consciousness was encoded and embedded within a quantum chip. Said chip survived transit and has now grafted to this organic host. ::
Rayen ran a hand through longer, unkempt hair. "So I died. And reincarnated. And you're… a talking chip in my head?"
:: Analyzing dimensional constants... Gravity: 0.92 Earth norm. Electromagnetic field irregularities detected. Ambient energy type: spiritual in nature. Estimated 87% probability—host is now within a cultivation-based universe. ::
Rayen stared at his hand. His skin shimmered faintly when he focused, like heat rippling on asphalt.
"Well," he muttered, "that's scientifically ridiculous."
He grinned. That mad, unhinged grin that got him banned from three separate think tanks.
"But also… kind of amazing."
:: Initial recommendation: integrate into local civilization. Acquire linguistic, cultural, and metaphysical data. Avoid dying again. ::
"Q.E.D., run an internal diagnostic."
A translucent panel flickered into view across Rayen's vision, listing cultivation details in crisp detail.
**[Rayen Wu – Cultivator Status Sheet]**
• Cultivation Stage: None (Yet to awaken)
• Martial Techniques: None
• Alchemy Affinity: N/A
• Tools Available: Quantum Entangled Drive (Q.E.D.)
Rayen stood, dusted off his robe, and began walking.By sunset, he'd confirmed several things:
1. He was on a planet that ran on spiritual energy.
2. He was considered a "mortal" with no visible cultivation base.
3. Even small children here could punch through stone walls.
He found a village near the forest edge—quaint, peaceful, and absurdly wuxia. Farmers harvested spirit herbs. A dog barked Qi-infused woofs. A ten-year-old levitated a chicken by accident.
Rayen approached a public notice board. His stomach growled. The flyer read:
Azure Serpent Sect Recruitment – Outer Sect Disciples Wanted!Low aptitude welcome. Free food, minimal mortal peril.
"Free food, Qi techniques, and only 'minimal' peril?" he murmured. "Sounds like grad school all over again."
Q.E.D. chimed in.
:: Azure Serpent Sect: mid-tier cultivation school. Focus: elemental energy, alchemical refinement. Recommend infiltration. ::
Rayen plucked the flyer and grinned.
Time to become a cultivator. Or at least, fake it until he made it.
He squared his shoulders.
A new world. New laws of physics. And a quantum chip in his head.
"Why rely on intuition," he whispered, "when I can simulate the path to immortality?"