The cliff of the Starry Cut, located in a remote corner of the Jade Continent, was known as a sacred place for the swordsmen of the Falling Star Province, due to the sword intent embedded in the crack that sliced the edge of a forest.
Ling Chen, a casual cultivator of the Qi Refinement Realm, was inside the Cliff, holding the hilt of an ordinary metallic sword.
Cut
He swung the sword to the right, to the left, up and down. Each movement generated a whistle in the air and light gusts of wind. Continuing the sequence, he only stopped when his forearm began to ache from overexertion.
"When will I comprehend sword intent? My talent for cultivation is trash! Is my comprehension too?" Ling Chen sighed, finding it difficult to achieve his dream of becoming powerful.
Downcast, he sat on the dirt ground, resting his head against the rocky wall behind him to take a short break.
Kaboom
A thunderous sound tore through Ling Chen's eardrums as he rested. Startled, he immediately looked up and saw with his naked eyes the sky darkening, the clouds turning gloomy and beginning to spark with lightning dancing on their surface.
'Why did it start out of nowhere? It was sunny just now. Could it be a cultivator undergoing tribulation?' When that thought crossed his mind, Ling Chen's mouth opened and closed.
It was hard to believe that someone of that level existed in this god-forsaken city. Still shocked by the idea, Ling Chen scanned the sky with his pupils, trying to spot any sign of lightning falling.
He found something that was—or seemed to be—right within the clouds: a golden line descending like a bolt, crossing the atmosphere in milliseconds.
"So fast!" exclaimed Ling Chen, who couldn't take his eyes off it. His pupils widened and trembled as he observed. "Something's wrong! It's coming straight toward me!"
Fear instantly took hold of Ling Chen, who panicked and, driven by instinct, tried to run with all the strength in his legs. But before he could take a single step...
Booom!
He was struck by the lightning on his skull, which opened a wound upon impact and sent a shock coursing through his entire body.
'Am I going to die? Before achieving anything in my life?' Ling Chen, suffering from a burning pain in his head—as if he had been beaten endlessly—and a paralysis caused by electrification, did not want to die yet.
He really didn't! Especially not by some random lightning strike. He wanted to live. "I won't fall here!"
He used the last of his willpower to move his jaws against his tongue. Biting it, he felt his mind grow clearer from the taste of blood.
But it did little more than keep him conscious for a bit longer; blood continued to flow endlessly from his scalp. No matter how strong his will was—in the end, he would die from blood loss.
"Hahaha!" Ling Chen, on the brink of death, began to laugh in a distorted way, hating his unlucky life.
"So this is the end?" He stopped laughing and began to shed tears, which streamed down his face. "I'm sorry, Grandpa, our promise won't be fulfilled."
He said that as he lost consciousness, his vision fading little by little until everything turned completely dark.
Amid the infinite darkness, Ling Chen still lamented.
'What a pathetic death... Wait... why am I still thinking?' He was stunned, unable to understand how he could still talk to himself.
Finding it strange, he saw something opening within the endless dark space. It was a crack that grew larger every second; soon it reached a meter in size, and from it, a scroll flew out.
'What?' Ling Chen had no reaction other than pure curiosity consuming him. Unable to stay still any longer, he darted forward with his consciousness. When he touched the paper flying through the darkness, a technique entered his mind.
Divine Art of the God of Pleasure.
A cultivation method that Ling Chen had never heard of in his life. Its goal was to cultivate through pleasure. It was divided into nine parts.
At the moment, only the first part was available to him, and it was about dual cultivation, extracting Yin Qi, and a technique of pleasurable hands that acted as aphrodisiacs through touch.
"..."
Memorizing the first part, Ling Chen was speechless. Especially when he thought about the pleasurable hands.
'What kind of crap is this? Which demon invented this? Aren't they afraid of being punished by the heavens? This is so unethical.' He voiced his opinion.
And after a pause, he continued: "But it's interesting. Cultivating through pleasure is something new. I always thought it was only possible by extracting the Qi of Heaven and Earth."
He was tempted by the method, but unfortunately, he was dead. Or so he thought. After receiving that inheritance, Ling Chen felt himself regaining consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw that the sky had returned to normal.
"I'm alive!?" He shouted and placed his hand on his skull, searching for the hole that had been there before, but found nothing. Pulling his hands away, he saw no blood.
"Ha?"
Ling Chen was full of questions, and to confirm that he really had been struck by lightning, he removed his upper garment and examined it. It was dry, but there was a red stain on the silk fabric.
"I knew I wasn't crazy! I really died! But how was I reborn?... Divine Art of the God of Pleasure... Did it heal me?" He deduced, feeling a flood of mixed emotions surge in his heart.
The first was relief at being alive; the second was the discovery of the art he'd received when he died; and the last was pure curiosity—to see whether pleasure could truly enhance cultivation—and the hands... were they really that good?
"I've been corrupted." Ling Chen's face turned red at his own monologue. He was deeply embarrassed.
Shaking his head, he stopped thinking about such perverted things and put his clothes back on. He went to the sword, which had been destroyed by the thunder's sonic impact.
"My sword, the one I bought for a hundred spirit stones, is gone!" Ling Chen wanted to cry again, but this time not from pain, but from loss.
'Damned lightning! Give me my money back!'
He gnashed his teeth, extremely irritated. Taking advantage of the wall nearby, he began kicking it repeatedly, as if it were the culprit behind his misfortune.
After collapsing in frustration, Ling Chen walked toward the start of the cliff with a bitter face. Climbing the stairs leading to the summit, he left the fissure.
Before him appeared a green area full of vegetation, with the chirping of birds brightening the environment—though not his mood.
Still wearing a bitter expression, he crossed the forest in two hours, arriving at a ten-meter-high wall protected by a group of guards.
Not wanting to talk, he walked straight through. They didn't stop him—even though his current appearance was far from decent—because they knew who he was.
Entering the city, surrounded by houses in all directions and paved with cobblestone sidewalks made of stone, Ling Chen walked toward his home, located in a noble district.
He was the seventh grandson of Ling Wu, patriarch of the Ling Family. After walking for another hour, with his legs weak, he arrived at a red building surrounded by a barrier that protected its interior from damage.
To unlock it, Ling Chen extended his palm toward the gravitational field, which looked like a round glass. When it cracked, the formation opened immediately. This happened because of the bloodline recorded when it was carved.
If it weren't an authorized person—or someone strong enough to break it—it would be impossible to enter.
Inside, he found himself in a beautiful courtyard surrounded by plants and fruit trees. Ahead, there was a gate leading into the building.
When he entered through the door and saw a figure, an idea crossed his mind.
"Yunxi, I need your help to test something. If you wish to refuse, I won't force you."