Dawn spilled over the mountains like a silent exhale from the heavens.
Delicate threads of pale-gold light unfurled across the ancient peaks, brushing the ridges with a soft glow. Mist curled lazily between the cliffs, drifting in slow spirals as though the sky was breathing. Each wisp shimmered faintly—spiritual energy pooling in liquid-white currents, rising and falling like living ribbons.
Below, the vast forests unfolded in layered hues of jade and emerald.
When the morning wind swept through them, the leaves chimed softly—each leaf ringing with the metallic clarity of refined Qi.
Centuries of accumulated spiritual essence turned simple trees into natural treasures.
In the distance, spirit beasts roared.
Deep, resonant, bone-vibrating cries that rolled across the valleys and made the stones beneath one's feet hum.
Above it all, the sky stretched open—blue, endless, unmarred except for thin fractures glimmering between realms.
Occasionally, streaks of spiritual lightning flashed across the horizon.
No thunder followed.
Powerful cultivators fought far beyond mortal reach.
Anwar stared at all of it, dazed.
"…Damn. This is beautiful."
The air tasted clean. Heavy with energy. Sweet in a way oxygen in his old world never managed.
He inhaled deeply—again, and again—until his chest tingled.
"Even breathing feels like cultivation. No wonder these people look like airbrushed models."
As he walked down the stone path, he saw dozens of outer disciples moving about in loose sect robes.
The men looked sharp.
The women looked ethereal.
All of them radiated faint spiritual light.
The higher one cultivated, the more the body purified—removing flaws, dullness, impurities.
Everyone here was handsome by default.
It was unfair.
Eventually, he reached the Martial Pavilion.
The building rose like a sleeping divine beast.
Its rooftop curved like celestial wings, layered with tiles forged from tempered spirit iron.
Each tile held threads of dormant qi—faintly glowing during the night like stars stitched into a roof.
The Outer Sect Martial Pavilion was free for disciples; techniques on the lower floors were accessible to anyone.
Only the top floor was sealed, barred for personal disciples and Outer sect elders.
Naturally, no one paid attention to Anwar.
He had no talent.
No reputation.
No enemies worth noting.
No accomplishments whatsoever.
Nor he was infamous.
He walked past the first floor without stopping and headed directly to the third.
Hundreds of techniques filled the shelves—scrolls bound in silk, jade slips humming softly, wooden tablets sealed with protective talismans.
The system helped him identify techniques by scanning their internal structures.
So he didn't waste time.
He pulled them out one by one.
Open.
Scan.
Toss aside.
Repeat.
Three hours passed.
By the end, his fingers tingled from handling so many Qi-infused scrolls.
"Finally… this one."
He held the scroll tightly.
A technique the sect master had unknowingly overlooked.
Not because it was weak.
But because only someone with a dormant special physique could use it.
Special physiques were rare.
Tragically rare.
Most died before awakening.
But the protagonist? Of course he had one.
He felt the system buzz.
A crisp window popped up.
[Mission 1: Steal the protagonist's One Opportunity within 24 hours.]
[Status: Completed.]
[Reward: 500 System Points | Trait: Natural Charm]
Warm energy washed over him—subtle, buzzing, settling into his skin.
He exhaled a long breath.
"That's one robbery done."
He didn't linger. He left the Martial Pavilion quickly.
No need to stick around and trigger some random Red flag.
His stomach growled.
Right.
Food.
He headed toward the Silver Bamboo Meal House, located at the edge of the outer disciple courtyard.
The building was woven entirely from silver-hued spiritual bamboo—wall to wall, ceiling to ceiling.
Even in daylight, it glowed faintly as if moonlight had been trapped inside every stalk.
A cool fragrance drifted from the bamboo—refreshing, calming, and rumored to sharpen a cultivator's focus.
When Anwar stepped inside, the warmth hit him immediately.
Rows of long spirit-pine tables filled the hall.
Disciples crowded around steaming bowls and sizzling plates.
Laughter.
Arguments.
The sharp clang of woks.
Crackling fire.
The air pulsed with the aroma of Qi-infused dishes—herbed beast meat, roasted spirit mushrooms, vitality apples sliced into golden slivers.
Everything smelled divine.
He took his time choosing.
Everything looked new.
Exotic.
Tempting.
In the end, he picked a bowl of noodles loaded with Qi Condensation–realm beast meat.
The moment he took a single bite—
His entire body shivered.
"Oh—damn—this is—"
He almost moaned.
The vitality inside the meat surged into his limbs like molten warmth.
Every nerve tingled.
His blood felt lighter.
No wonder disciples ate for free.
The sect was one of the three strongest.
Low-tier spirit beast meat was nothing to them.It also kept disciples energetic and motivated—to cultivate.
He finished the meal fast.
No lingering.
The protagonist was gaining strength every day.
He needed time.
He went back to his small room, took a quick bath, sat cross-legged, and summoned his status window.
The runes flickered.
Name: Awner Xuanyan
Realm: Qi Condensation Realm — Stage 2
Luck: 60
Charm: 100
Special Trait:
• Natural Charm — Doubles charm attribute and leaves a strong, positive first impression on anyone newly met.
Combat Skill:
• Cloud-Bound Steps — Yellow Rank
Cultivation Technique:
• Nether Abyss Mainland Sect Manual — Earth Grade
He stared at the panel.
"It's… fine, I guess."
Luck and Charm were absurdly high for someone at Stage 2.
But everything else?
Earth grade.
The second-lowest grade of cultivation techniques.
Barely enough to survive, let alone dominate.
Creating a technique suitable for the masses required incredible wisdom and generations of refinement.
No wonder the basic manuals were weak.
The sect leader and her disciples had upgraded versions—Heaven Grade manuals, twice as powerful, refined, and far more profound.
Maybe he could get one… eventually.
If he secured a place in the Sect Master's heart.
Or at least in her priorities.
But for now?
He sighed.
"First things first… get used to my current technique."
He straightened his posture.
Time to cultivate.