"Ding. Extreme emotional fluctuation detected. Host is in a state of mortal terror. Survival instinct triggered. Activating Cultivation System."
The mechanical voice rang out in Alex's mind, cold and distinct, shattering his panic.
"Greetings, Host. Do you desire to become a Cultivator capable of ascending the heavens and cracking the earth? Do you wish to ascend to the Spirit Realm? Do you wish to achieve Immortal Ascension?"
The voice startled Alex, pulling him out of the spiraling fear caused by the child's murder. He blinked, the adrenaline in his veins shifting from terror to confusion.
"I... I..."
Alex was about to shout his answer when he remembered where he was. He clamped his mouth shut, glancing around nervously. The alley was empty, but in this world, walls had ears and the sky had eyes. He lowered his voice to a frantic whisper, looking like a man bargaining with a ghost.
"System? Look, I'm just a mortal," he hissed, crouching lower behind the crates. "I don't have high intelligence. I'm not a genius. I don't have the grit to climb mountains of knives or swim through seas of fire. Become a god? I just saw a kid get vaporized for standing in the wrong spot! Please, just be merciful and send me back. I don't want to be here!"
"Request denied. Host must face reality. Return to the dimension of origin is impossible without achieving the rank of a Supreme Existence."
Alex slumped against the damp wall. "Great. Just great."
"To compensate the Host for mental trauma and displacement, the System offers the 'Heavenly Spiritual Root Newbie Gift Pack.' We hope the Host diligently cultivates to become a Supreme Existence and return home."
A Heavenly Spiritual Root.
Even as a corporate slave who only read novels during commute hours, Alex knew what that meant. In the lore of cultivation, that was the apex of talent. A ticket to godhood. It meant he would be a genius among geniuses.
But as the initial excitement flared, it was instantly doused by a bucket of cold paranoia.
He thought of the child turning to ash. He thought of the indifference in the Cultivators' eyes.
A genius without a background was not a hero; he was a resource. If he, a nobody with no clan and no money, suddenly revealed a Heavenly Spiritual Root, he wouldn't be celebrated. He would be hunted. Old monsters nearing the end of their lifespans would look at his perfect vessel and see a new home. They would strip his soul and possess his body.
"As the saying goes," Alex muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead, "You can take the treasure, but you have to be alive to spend it."
This world was a meat grinder. Deception was the currency, and violence was the language. One wrong step, one moment of arrogance, and he would end up in a ditch or worse, in an alchemist's furnace.
Besides, he knew himself. He was lazy. He hated studying. He had spent three years quiet quitting his corporate job. The idea of sitting in a cave for fifty years, meditating on the Dao, sounded like torture.
"System," he whispered urgently. "I refuse. I don't want the Heavenly Spiritual Root. It's too flashy. It's a death sentence. And I don't want to cultivate the hard way. It's too tiring. Can't you just send me to a safe mortal city where I can be a rich landlord?"
"Ding. Detecting Host's lack of ambition and distinct cowardly tendencies. Analyzing optimal survival strategy... Calculation complete."
"Ding. System Mode switched. 'Many Children, Many Blessings' Family System successfully activated."
Alex paused. "Many Children, Many Blessings?"
"Ding. Rules are as follows: For every offspring the Host sires, you will receive a blessing based on the child's potential. Furthermore, the Host will instantly and passively possess the cultivation level of their strongest offspring. If your children cultivate, you become stronger. If they realize the Dao, you realize the Dao."
Alex's jaw dropped.
"Wait. You mean... if I have a kid who is a genius, I become a genius? I don't have to meditate? I don't have to fight for resources?"
"Affirmative. The Host receives the feedback of their collective cultivation. You may lie flat and still ascend."
"That's the one!" Alex nearly shouted, catching himself at the last second. "I want that one! And let the record show, I'm not doing this because I want a harem of beautiful wives. Absolutely not. I am doing this for the greater good. I am doing this to populate the world with righteous cultivators!"
He felt a grin splitting his face. This was it. The ultimate loophole. He didn't need to risk his life fighting over spirit herbs. He just needed to... build a family.
"Ding. 'Many Children, Many Blessings' System confirmed. Generating revised Newbie Gift Pack..."
"Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Five-Spirit Root"
"Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Active Skill 'One Shot to Impregnate' (Guarantees conception upon intention)."
"Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Portable Spirit Farm (Grade 1)."
Alex's expression shifted rapidly.
The Portable Spirit Farm was excellent. His farming DNA, dormant after years of city living, tingled with excitement. A private dimension to grow food meant he wouldn't starve.
But the Five-Spirit Root? That was trash. In the novels, that was the worst possible talent, barely better than a mortal. It meant his personal cultivation speed would be slower than a snail crawling uphill.
"From Heavenly Root to Trash Root," he sighed. "Well, I asked for it."
He waved the notification away, completely unaware of how difficult it was for high-level cultivators to conceive. In the future, he would come to regard this "insulting" skill as his most divine ability.
"System, can I upgrade my root later?"
"Ding. Goods sold are non-refundable. You are lucky that there's no tax involved"
"Fuck." Alex shrugged. It didn't matter. His own talent was irrelevant now. He just needed to find a wife with good genes, or perhaps get lucky and sire a mutant genius.
He leaned back against the wall, a satisfied, slightly creepy smile playing on his lips as he imagined his future. He wouldn't be a lonely god on a mountaintop. He would be the patriarch of a massive clan, sipping tea while his children conquered the world for him.
"Ding. Comprehensive Language and Literacy Pack fully integrated."
A rush of warmth flowed through his brain, soothing the lingering headache from his arrival. Suddenly, the strange symbols on the distant shop banners made sense. He could read the wanted posters. He could understand the nuances of the local dialect, not just the rough meaning.
"Nice," he muttered. "Now I'm not illiterate."
"Who is that lunatic? Mumbling to himself in the dirt?"
The harsh voice snapped Alex out of his reverie. He looked up to see an old woman with a basket of vegetables standing a few feet away. She was clutching her basket tight, eyeing him with the same wariness one would show a rabid dog.
Alex realized how he must look: a man in weird, tight clothes, crouching in a dark corner, grinning and whispering to the air.
"I'm not crazy," Alex said quickly, standing up and dusting off his pants. "I was just... reciting poetry. Talking to myself."
The old woman didn't wait for him to finish. She spat on the ground to ward off bad luck and scurried away as fast as her legs could carry her.
"Stay away from me," she muttered as she fled.
Alex stood alone in the alley, the cold wind blowing at his back. He had a trash spirit root, no money, and he had just been socially ostracized by a grandmother.
But he had a System. And for the first time since arriving, Alex felt like he might actually survive.