"Please choose your origin for this simulation."
"Commoner: You were born into a commoner family, with a difficult fate. Requires zero to one hundred points."
"Noble Clan: You were born into a noble clan, with a wealthy family background. Requires one hundred to ten thousand points."
"Martial Clan: You were born into a martial clan. Both of your parents are martial artists, and their bloodline grants you superior innate talent. Requires two thousand to fifty thousand points."
Simon Harper studied the origin options on the simulator interface, its faint glow illuminating the dim dungeon in Fairhaven. With only thirty points, he selected Commoner, then moved to the talent options.
"Sword Technique Talent (Elementary): Requires one to one hundred simulation points."
"Sword Technique Talent (Intermediate): Requires one hundred to ten thousand simulation points."
"Cultivation Talent (Elementary): Requires one to one hundred simulation points."
"Saber Technique Talent (Elementary): Requires one to one hundred simulation points."
Dozens of talent options appeared, spanning various skills and attributes.
"I need points to extend the simulation's duration," Simon mused, the damp chill of the dungeon seeping through his straw mat. He pondered, then chose Cultivation Talent, investing ten points to enhance his aptitude.
"I have twenty points left. I'll use them to extend the duration."
With a mental command, he skipped other options and reached the time selection.
"Two points extend the duration by one year. I'll invest all twenty points."
Simon allocated his remaining points, increasing the simulation time from ten to twenty years.
"Twenty years should give me enough time to achieve my goals."
As long as he survived, the simulation would run its full course. Simon reviewed his selections, took a deep breath, and clicked "Start Simulation."
"Selection complete, simulation begins!"
A mechanical voice echoed, and a dark void appeared, its infinite suction pulling at his consciousness. Simon's spirit trembled, then he was drawn into the black hole, falling into unconsciousness.
When awareness returned, Simon found himself in the simulation. He lay on a pile of hay in a stable, surrounded by sturdy horses munching loudly. The air carried a faint earthy scent, tempered by the stable's cleanliness. The wooden floor was swept, and the stalls were orderly, a sign of diligent upkeep.
Simon scanned his surroundings as memories surfaced in his mind. "I'm a stable boy," he realized, shaking his head with a wry smile.
A zero-point origin was indeed a gamble. Last time, he'd been a vagrant; now, he was a servant tending horses.
This identity, James Ward, belongs to the Clayton family, stable hands for generations, bound to serve the Claytons of Rivergate.
Simon sighed, sifting through James's memories. A vagrant had freedom, but a stable boy was a servant, subject to others' whims. The Clayton family, Rivergate's dominant power, was led by Patriarch Henry Clayton, an Innate martial artist. Escaping their control would be no easy feat.
"I need to leave the Clayton family."
As a hereditary servant, born to the household, normal means of departure were impossible. James's memories confirmed servants were bound for life, their children destined to follow.
"I'll escape when I go to buy hay."
James's memories revealed he visited Rivergate's northern market every five days to purchase hay. That would be his chance.
"Once I'm free, I'll find a remote place, train my martial arts, and build my own influence."
Betraying the Claytons carried risks. If caught, the consequences would be severe, given their power. Simon took a deep breath, diving deeper into James's memories.
The memories offered practical knowledge—how to care for horses, assess their health, and manage a stable. Simon absorbed it all, transforming from novice to expert in moments.
"These memories don't affect my mind," he noted, his heart steady. The simulator filtered emotions, leaving only facts, like watching a documentary.
The simulator's power likely prevents mental interference.
For others, such memories might overwhelm, but Simon felt no burden. They were tools, nothing more.
"No martial arts in James's memories, though. He's just a stable boy."
Simon stood, brushing hay from his rough tunic, and began tending the horses, checking their hooves and brushing their coats.
This simulation's memories are richer than Lucas Reed's. James, trusted by the Claytons, knows more about this world.
Combining James's knowledge with his prior simulation, Simon gained a clearer picture of the Martial Realm. Its lands were vast, dotted with dynasties and teeming with martial artists. Rivergate, his current location, sat in the heart of the Great Vale Dynasty.
"Last simulation, I was in Great Dawn. I wonder if I could visit and see the legend I left behind."
He had no sense of how much time had passed since his last simulation, as James's memories held no mention of Great Dawn's dynasty.
Simon shook his head, focusing on the horses as he awaited his chance to escape.
Four days from now, I'll go to the market. That's my opportunity.
Life with the Claytons provided food and shelter, but Simon had no desire to live under their rule, let alone as a servant. Practicing martial arts openly here was impossible, his every move watched.
Once free, I'll have the freedom to soar.
As he brushed a mare's flank, a figure approached—a young woman in a maid's dress.
"James Ward, the Young Miss has orders. Tend well to Ember. She's riding out tomorrow morning, and you'll lead the horse."
Ember was a gentle mare, the favorite of the Clayton family's eldest daughter, Eliza Clayton.
Simon turned, nodding. "Understood."
As the maid walked away, a spark of hope flared in Simon's chest. "Tomorrow might be my chance to escape, no need to wait four days."