The phantom tremors of the demon attack still reverberated in Ren's mind, a chilling echo from the simulation. His last spirit stone had bought him knowledge: the exact location of discarded spirit tools in the cleaner alleys near the wealthy districts. This was his next lifeline. *Survival demands precision. No more relying on random luck. Only calculated risk.* The world outside his hovel was a labyrinth of death and opportunity, and he, a mere Qi Refinement Stage 2, had to navigate it with the cunning of a cornered rat. His five-element poor roots meant cultivation was a torturous crawl, each minute gain bought with immense, inefficient effort. *To grow too fast, to shine too brightly with such a worthless foundation, would be a death sentence. Suspicion would attract predators.*
Over the next few days, Ren moved with a newfound purpose. His bruised body still protested, but his mind, sharper than ever, drove him. He performed menial tasks, observing the routines of the city guards, the paths of merchants. He chose his moments, slipping into the cleaner alleys under the cloak of dawn or dusk, his eyes, still recalling the acuity of [Keen Eye], scanning for discarded fragments. He found broken talismans, chipped spirit jade, even a few damaged low-grade spirit tools. These were not grand treasures, but they were resources. He bartered them carefully, avoiding attention, slowly accumulating **seven low-grade spirit stones**.
The weight of the debt pressed down on him, a constant, humiliating burden. He found the manager, a portly man with eyes like coins. He handed over the required five spirit stones. The manager merely grunted, his gaze dismissive. "Keep the next payment timely, squatter," he rasped. Ren felt no triumph, only a grim satisfaction. *Debt settled. One less immediate threat. Resources now for progress.* With his remaining two spirit stones, Ren paid for a small, slightly cleaner room for three days. It was a luxury, but a strategic one. He needed undisturbed time to simulate, to rest, to absorb.
His weakness, his "original sin" as he grimly called it, was his pathetic root aptitude. That, and the terrifying, invaluable System itself. It was both his greatest gift and his gravest vulnerability. If anyone knew he possessed such a thing, he would be hunted, dissected, devoured.
Sealed within his temporary sanctuary, Ren prepared for another dive into the unpredictable. The System shimmered.
**Simulation Opportunity: Text-based. Cost: 2 Low-Grade Spirit Stones.**
**Choose 1 of 3 F-Grade Talents:**
* **[F] Hardy Constitution:** Minor resistance to poison or minor injuries.
* **[F] Steady Hand:** Minor improvement in precision for delicate tasks.
* **[F] Silver Tongue:** Slight improvement in persuasion for minor requests.
Ren paused, weighing his options. He had just escaped the Black Market chaos in the last simulation. Perhaps something for direct survival? *Hardy Constitution. If chaos erupts again, I need to survive the initial impact. A momentary edge.* He selected it. Two spirit stones vanished. The room faded, swallowed by the familiar, shimmering text.
---
**SIMULATION LOG: ATTEMPT 4**
**DAY 1: Hidden Market, Unexpected Calm. Ren awakens. His [Hardy Constitution] subtly dulls the constant aches. He uses the information gleaned from previous simulations to find a less-known, smaller black market, far from the central city square. It's a quiet affair, focused on specific, discreet exchanges. He observes a secretive meeting between two rogue cultivators discussing a new source of rare spiritual wood in the nearby mountains. He learns of a dangerous, but profitable, task: collecting 'Storm-touched Fungi' that grow only during electrical storms.**
**DAY 2: Cultivator District Exploration. Driven by the need for more diverse information, Ren ventures into the outer edges of a respectable Cultivator District. He maintains a low profile, blending with the servants and low-ranking disciples. He overhears conversations about sect internal politics – a power struggle within the Azure Cloud Sect. He also notices recruitment posters for the "Iron Fist Hall," a sect known for its rigorous physical training but lacking in spiritual methods. He notes their specific initiation rituals.**
**DAY 3: An Alchemist's Apprentice. Ren, still exploring, encounters a young, distraught alchemist's apprentice. The apprentice has spilled a volatile potion, attracting a minor beast. Ren uses his wits to distract the beast long enough for the apprentice to escape. In gratitude, the apprentice, forgetting caution, shares a basic recipe for a low-grade Qi-gathering pill. Ren observes the apprentice's precise finger movements, memorizing the steps.**
**DAY 4: Whispers of War. The atmosphere in the city begins to shift. Ren notices increased patrols of city guards. He observes a heavily armed detachment of the "Spirit Blade Sect" moving towards the outer gates. Rumors spread like wildfire: "Demon incursions reported near the northern borders! The Crimson Bone Sect is on the move again!" The city feels like a coiled snake.**
**DAY 5: The Brothel's Allure and Trap. Seeking further information, Ren, emboldened by his perceived successes, enters a low-end brothel, hoping to overhear drunken confessions. He uses a few copper coins to buy a cheap drink, his [Hardy Constitution] buffering the foul taste. He learns of a secret passage used by smugglers. However, his presence, despite his caution, is noted by the establishment's owner, a shrewd Qi Condensation cultivator. He is subtly targeted.**
**DAY 6: The Unseen Net. Ren attempts to leave the brothel discreetly, but the exits are suddenly blocked. The owner smiles, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Little mouse, you have seen too much." Ren is cornered by her hired thugs, cultivators slightly above his level. He attempts to use the crude fighting techniques he'd learned, but without true power, they are futile. He is beaten, tied, and dragged into a hidden cellar.**
**DAY 7: The Interrogation and Collapse. In the dark cellar, Ren endures a brutal interrogation. They demand to know who sent him, what information he seeks. His [Hardy Constitution] only prolongs the agony. As he is about to break, a deafening explosion rocks the city above. A dark, terrifying energy surges through the ground. The cellar walls crumble. A monstrous, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes breaches the roof. It is a demon general. The city is under full-scale assault. Ren, already gravely wounded, is crushed beneath the collapsing structure, his last breath a whisper of despair amidst the screams.**
**SIMULATION ENDED.**
**YEARS LIVED: 0.019 Years (7 Days).**
**SURVIVAL POINTS GAINED: 0.**
**ACHIEVEMENTS: Qi-Gathering Pill Recipe (Observed). Brothel Infiltrator (Failed).**
**NEGATIVES: Captured and Crushed. Excessive Risk. Underestimated Local Power.**
**MEMORY EXTRACTION AVAILABLE. Cost: 1 Low-Grade Spirit Stone.**
---
Ren gasped, bolting upright, eyes wide, body convulsing as if still trapped beneath the debris. The memory of the demon general's burning eyes was seared into his mind. The cold reality of his hovel room, the flickering candle, was a harsh anchor. He was covered in sweat, his lungs burning. *Fool. So arrogant. Thinking a few days of data made me immune. The world does not care for your plans. It will devour you.*
His head pounded. He was still Qi Refinement Stage 2. He still had one low-grade spirit stone. *What to extract? The Qi-gathering pill recipe? The location of Storm-touched Fungi? The smuggler's passage?* He thought of his poor roots, the glacial pace of his cultivation. A Qi-gathering pill, even a low-grade one, could accelerate him, albeit slightly. But it would draw attention if he used it too often.
He chose the **Qi-gathering pill recipe**. It was a foundation, a skill that could yield resources over time, rather than a single, risky location. The spirit stone dissolved. The recipe, a sequence of herbs and precise steps, materialized in his mind, complete with the alchemist's specific finger movements. *Knowledge. Always knowledge. Power is built on it.*
The next day, and the day after, became a new kind of training. The city was still tense, the air thick with rumors of demonic incursions. Ren moved like a shadow, applying the lessons of stealth and observation from his simulations. He practiced the Qi-gathering pill recipe in secret, experimenting with scavenged herbs. He worked harder at his odd jobs, hoarding every copper coin, every discarded item. He adapted the [Hardy Constitution] mindset, enduring discomfort, pushing his limits. His very existence was a constant, grueling simulation of survival.
He knew the loop now: **simulate, learn, survive in the real world, gather resources, repeat.** The world was a beautiful, terrifying tapestry of cultivation, but for him, it was a brutal proving ground. He had no sect, no status, no true friends. Just the System, the endless deaths, and the precious fragments of knowledge he could extract. He had to become strong enough to withstand the strong, to feast instead of being feasted upon. He was a cultivator of death, turning failure into grim wisdom.
What is the next immediate danger or opportunity Ren faces in the real world that forces him to put his newly acquired knowledge or a particular survival strategy to the test?