Lin Fan lay on his lumpy straw mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of his dilapidated room. The wood smelled of damp and decay, a scent he had long since grown accustomed to. Outside, the raucous laughter of his fellow outer disciples echoed through the thin walls. They were probably gathered around a small fire, sharing cheap wine and boasting about their meager progress in the Qi Condensation realm.
He was Lin Fan, an orphan, a charity case taken in by the Falling Star Sect. In a place where talent and backing were everything, he had neither. He was at the absolute bottom of the food chain. His cultivation was stagnant at the Second Layer of Qi Condensation, a realm most disciples surpassed within their first year. He had been stuck there for three.
His days were a monotonous cycle of humiliation. He was assigned the most grueling chores: cleaning the latrines, tending the fields with the weakest spiritual energy, and serving as a living training dummy for the more talented disciples. They would "spar" with him, their punches and kicks leaving him bruised and aching, all under the guise of "helping him improve." Their real goal was to vent their own frustrations on someone who couldn't fight back.
Tonight was no different. Senior Brother Zhang, a burly youth at the Fourth Layer, had decided to "test" a new kick technique on him. The result was a throbbing pain in his ribs that made every breath a small agony. He had no pills, no salves. He could only lie here and wait for his weak body to slowly mend itself.
"Why?" he whispered to the empty room, a familiar burn of despair stinging his eyes. "Why is the world so unfair?"
He had tried. Gods, he had tried so hard. He meditated until his legs went numb, practiced the sect's basic fist forms until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. But it was useless. His aptitude was simply too poor. The ambient spiritual energy of the world seemed to slip through his grasp like water through a sieve.
He closed his eyes, the laughter outside grating on his nerves. He wished he could just disappear. He wished for a miracle, for a heaven-sent opportunity, for anything that could change his miserable fate. It was a foolish, childish wish, one he had made a thousand times before. And like always, nothing happened.
He was about to drift into a fitful sleep when a voice echoed directly inside his mind.
[Treasure Devourer System at your service. Do you wish to bind?]
Lin Fan's eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright, ignoring the sharp protest from his ribs. He scanned the dark room. It was empty. The window was barred, the door shut. There was no one here.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice a nervous croak. "Who's joking with me?"
This had to be a prank. It was probably Senior Brother Zhang and his cronies, using some cheap sound-projection technique to mock him further. They probably thought it was hilarious to give the sect's biggest loser a sliver of false hope before crushing it. The thought made his blood boil with a familiar rage.
"Stop it!" he shouted. "I know you're out there!"
Silence. The laughter outside had died down. There was only the sound of his own ragged breathing. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe the pain and desperation had finally made him lose his mind. He slumped back onto the mattress, his head throbbing.
And then, the voice returned, its tone unchanged—a ancient sound that seemed to hold the weight of mountains.
[I am a supreme artifact, created by a being from a dimension beyond your comprehension. I was sent to this world to find a fated one, a vessel of great destiny. Do you wish to bind? ]
In front of his eyes, a translucent interface flickered into existence. It was glowing words hanging in the air. At the bottom, a countdown began, the numbers stark and golden.
[30… 29… 28…]
Lin Fan stared, his mouth agape. This was no prank. No outer disciple, not even an elder of the Falling Star Sect, could create an illusion this real. The voice resonated with his very soul, filling him with a sense of awe and terror. A supreme being? Another dimension? A fated one?
Him? Lin Fan, the trash, the orphan, the training dummy? A vessel of great destiny? It was insane. It was impossible. But the countdown was real, the golden numbers ticking down with an inexorable finality.
[20… 19… 18…]
His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. What if it was a trap? What if it was some demonic artifact that would devour his soul? But what did he have to lose? His life was already a living hell. His soul was probably worth less than the straw in his mattress. What was the alternative? To continue living like this? To be bullied and beaten until the day he died, a forgotten speck of dust in a world that didn't care?
[10… 9… 8…]
This was it. This was the miracle he had prayed for. It was terrifying, yes, but it was a chance. It was the only chance he would ever get. The fear in his heart was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of desperate hope.
[5… 4… 3…]
"Yes!" he screamed, his voice raw with emotion. "I accept! I'll bind with you!"
[2… 1… 0…]
[Choice confirmed. Binding process initiated.]
A golden light erupted from the interface, pouring into his body. It felt like being submerged in a hot spring. The throbbing pain in his ribs vanished instantly. The exhaustion in his bones melted away. He felt a profound connection form in the depths of his soul, a link to something ancient and powerful. The interface and the countdown disappeared, leaving only the commanding voice in his mind.
[Binding successful. Welcome, Host.]
Lin Fan lay panting on his mattress, his body trembling with pure ecstasy. It was real. It was all real. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't insane.
He wanted to laugh, to scream, to run outside and declare his newfound destiny to the world. He barely restrained himself. No, he had to be smart. This was his secret, his greatest treasure. He couldn't let anyone know.
After a few minutes of joyous hyperventilation, he managed to calm his racing heart enough to think. His mind raced through legends of ancestral spirits and blessings from the heavens. Was this his fated opportunity?
He focused his thoughts inward, speaking to the presence in his mind with a mixture of reverence and caution. "Senior? Spirit? What... what are you?"
A calm voice echoed in his consciousness. [I am an endowment bound to your soul.]
An endowment. A gift. The word resonated with him. "Then what should I call you, honored endowment?" he asked, his mental voice filled with respect.
The voice replied instantly, as if stating a fundamental fact of the universe. [You can call me System.]
The word was alien, something he had never heard before. System. It felt strange on his mental tongue, yet it carried an air of profound order and purpose.
"Alright... System," Lin Fan said, testing the word. A grim smile touched his lips. "What is your purpose? What can you do for me?"
The voice replied instantly, [I exist for two purposes: to find, and to devour.]
"Find? Devour?" Lin Fan asked, confused.
[My first function is Treasure Sense. I can grant you a sixth sense for locating valuable spiritual herbs, ores, and artifacts. The stronger the treasure, the stronger the pull you will feel.]
A treasure-finding ability? In the impoverished Falling Star Sect, resources were everything. A single spirit grass could be exchanged for a month's worth of cultivation pills. This was a heaven-sent ability.
"And the second function?" he asked, his heart pounding with anticipation.
[My second function is Devour. I can consume any spiritual treasure you find and convert its essence directly into pure spiritual energy for your cultivation base.]
He understood the implications immediately. He had seen what happened when disciples tried to consume spiritual herbs above their level. Their meridians ruptured, their bodies exploded. It was a dangerous process. But this system… it could bypass all of that. It could turn treasures directly into power. It was the direct path to the heavens.