The world was quiet, yet unbearably loud in my head. I woke to find myself sprawled on the floor of my room, the cold wood pressing against my back and a splitting headache clawing at my skull. Every movement sent sharp pains shooting through my temples, forcing me to remain still. As my vision swam, familiar shapes began to take form—the walls, the window, the scattered belongings—but clarity brought no comfort.
Memories poured in, unbidden and overwhelming. They were not foreign; they were my own, yet not my own. The life of the body I now inhabited flooded my mind. I remembered fragments: moments of solitude, hints of arrogance, a life shaped by absence. I had known neither motherly affection nor the full warmth of family. Even with the faint, steady presence of my father, the void left by a missing maternal love had sculpted me into someone withdrawn, introverted, often retreating to the solitude of my room.
Hours passed in this haze. Three, maybe four, I could not say. Time lost all meaning as I wrestled with the body's memories, feeling them as if they were mine. Then, silently, without any sound or fanfare, a message appeared in my mind:
[Host soul has successfully bounded to the body.]
I blinked at it, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the pain. I stayed on the floor for another two hours, letting the influx of memories settle, organizing the chaos within my mind. Slowly, as the ache dulled to a low hum, I rose and walked to the window. The outside world stretched before me, vast and unknowable. Streets glimmered in the sunset's warm light, the sky painted in orange and purple hues. Quietly, I watched, lost in thought, each moment of reflection bringing the weight of my solitude to the forefront.
I thought of the people I had lost, the worlds I had left behind. In my former life, I had been mortal, untested, incapable of harm beyond the most trivial acts. Now, the knife in my hand felt heavy with implication. Survival in this world would demand more than luck—it demanded strength, adaptability, and courage. Myths and legends I had studied whispered promises of power, but also of trials, inevitable and unforgiving.
At last, my attention returned to the system. I spoke the words in my mind:
"System, check status."
A simple interface appeared, floating in my vision like a translucent window.
--- The Celestial System ---
[[Name: Xuan Yuan [Lucas Silva]
Age: 17
Cultivation Level: 1st Stage of Qi Gathering
Skills: ...
Abilities: [Can be gained from quest rewards]
Quests: "CLICK HERE"]]
Excitement surged through me when I remembered that this system was the legacy of the Great Sage, Heaven's Equal—Sun Wukong. Curiosity piqued, I selected the Quest tab. A faint ding resonated in my thoughts, sharp and concise.
--- QUESTS ---
1: "Adapt to your new body by completing these tasks"
● Run 100 laps on a 100-meter track /or run a total of 10 kilometers.
● Perform 1,000 Vertical Slashes (sword required)
● Perform 1,000 Stabs (sword required)
[NOTE: The Host can't use spiritual energy to complete the tasks.]
I chuckled, a humorless sound. What? I can't even run three kilometers straight, I thought. In my old world, jogging two to two-and-a-half kilometers had been the limit of my endurance. I had never been a fitness enthusiast, and yet here I was, staring down a task that seemed insurmountable.
There was one catch: I could not use spiritual energy to ease the effort. For a moment, panic surged. Then a spark of excitement ignited within me. Spiritual energy? I have it… I can cultivate. The idea thrilled me, promising power I had only ever read about.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, meditating, attempting to draw on the traces of spiritual energy within my body. Time stretched, each minute feeling like an hour as I struggled to feel what I did not fully understand. After one grueling hour, a faint warmth bloomed in my body. My spiritual energy was not completely moving everywhere in my body, not by any measure I could comprehend, but it existed, alive and pulsing beneath my skin. It was enough to promise growth, potential, and the discipline that lay ahead.
I stopped meditating. I already knew how to do it from the original owner of the body, but it still took one grueling hour since, even with the memories, it was my first time truly cultivating.
The sun dipped lower, painting the room in streaks of amber and gold. Shadows lengthened across the floor. Lost in contemplation, I almost did not hear the knock.
Soft but insistent, the knock came again, reverberating through the quiet room. I froze, hand brushing instinctively against the hilt of the knife I now held. Realizing this, I touched my neck—no blood, no mark, nothing. I rose, approached the door, pausing briefly to familiarize myself fully with the body's memories and relations. The knock came again, sharper this time.
Opening the door, I found an average-looking man in his thirties, his expression one of bored indifference. Though the man was a guard and not a servant, he still obeyed the orders due to my status as young master of one of Stardust City's most powerful families. Without waiting for a reply, he said, "The lord is asking for your presence in his courtyard. Follow me." My right eye twitched at his indifference, but I followed silently, mentally reviewing the city and world through the former young master's memories.
Stardust City lay at the heart of the Northern Region, bordered by Cloud Gate City to the north, Golden Lotus City to the east, and Crimson Peak to the west and south. Beyond these lay the famous Xiantian Sect and other empty plains. The region, though called Northern, was in the southern of the Han empire in which was the Tang dynasty.
Eventually, we reached a grand courtyard. Two sharp guards opened the gates without hesitation. Inside, I was struck by the scene: mist over a lake, swans gliding across the water, grass plains stretching endlessly, and a three-story house of ancient, pristine bricks. Standing by the lake was my new father, Xuan Tian, a Golden Core expert of the sixth stage, gazing at me with calm authority.
After the guard left, he spoke warmly " Yuan'er , you should start preparing seriously for this year's Xiantian sect recruitment of disciple's in three months time. Don't worry about your four-elemental spirit root, the clan would provide you pills for boost in training and your spirit base has a chance to be recovered at the Xiantian Sect . I advise you to seek an elder as a master to get rid of your current spirit base and get a better one and achieve immortality" he was emphasizing that cultivation alone was not everything—defeating enemies two to three realms above me could prove my talent. I nodded, feeling the warmth of familial love, and replied quietly, "I will, father," careful not to show too rapid a change from the introverted, reserved image of the previous young master.
I thought briefly of the complicated family ties yet to meet—my uncle Xuan Kong, the elders, and my cousin sister Xuan Ling, daughter of Xuan Kong—and braced myself for the challenges ahead.
After leaving my father's courtyard, I headed back toward my room. On the way, a girl stood in my path, her gaze sharp enough to pierce me. She wasn't breathtaking, but there was a refined grace about her. I instantly recognized my cousin, Xuan Ling. Memories surfaced—our strained interactions, her coldness toward me. Without a word, she passed me, and I shrugged before continuing to my room.
Once inside, I sat on the bed, mind heavy with today's revelations. The three-month countdown to the Xiantian Sect recruitment echoed in my thoughts. My talent was poor, but talent alone wouldn't stop me now. I had something greater—the legacy system of Sun Wukong, a power even myths had never possessed. With that conviction, I planned the training to come and fell asleep, deciding to begin the quest the next morning.
At dawn, I woke, went straight to the training ground, took a practice sword, and returned to my courtyard. It was square, roughly a hundred meters across—perfect for the system's quest of a hundred laps. After the first lap, a faint "1/100" appeared before my eyes, confirming the distance. By the 30th lap, my lungs burned and my legs trembled; even though I was in the first stage of Qi Gathering, I wasn't allowed to use spiritual energy. Slowing my pace still counted as progress, so I forced myself onward. Yet at the 83rd lap, my body finally gave out, and I collapsed.
While resting, I remembered the pills my father had provided and found a revitalization pill—grade zero, effective for early-stage cultivators and ordinary people alike. Unlike higher-grade pills, it didn't replenish spiritual power but instead cleared fatigue from the muscles. I swallowed it, and within minutes a warm surge filled my limbs. Feeling like a bull, I resumed running and pushed through to the hundredth lap, even managing several more before exhaustion set in again. The difference was staggering.
I rested for two hours to purge the pill's impurities through meditation, then got a bath and, after changing clothes, went for sword training. Though I refrained from consuming another pill to avoid accumulating impurities, I began the thousand slashes and thousand stabs. Inexperience cost me time—many strikes were imperfect, forcing me to repeat them—yet I pushed on, spending five to six grueling hours until my body was nearly spent.
DING!
[Congratulations! You have completed your first quest.
Do you wish to check the rewards?
Yes / No]
A smile involuntarily tugged at my lips as I sank back onto the bed. I didn't even have the energy to check the rewards, so I simply selected No and let sleep claim me.