A pleasant warmth suffused his entire being. He opened his eyes. The world looked exactly the same. He was still holding his ridiculous decorative sword. He was still a Second Layer cultivator. The bruise from kicking the bonsai tree still throbbed.
A flicker of doubt entered his mind. Had he just been hallucinating? The voice, the screen—it had all felt so real, but now there was only silence.
He focused his thoughts inward, speaking with a hesitant respect to the presence he hoped was still there. "Honored Supreme Treasure? Are you still here?"
A calm voice replied instantly in his mind. [I am.]
The confirmation sent a wave of relief through him. It was real. "What should I call you?" Chen Wei asked, his mental voice a mixture of caution and reverence. "Do you have a name or a title?"
The voice answered as if stating a universal constant. [My designation is the Undying Regeneration System. You may call me System.]
The word was completely alien to him. System. It had a strange sound, devoid of the poetic grandeur of names like "Celestial Spirit" or "Dragon Soul." Yet, it felt… precise. Purposeful.
"System," Chen Wei tested the word in his mind. A slow grin spread across his face. It was real, and he could speak to it. "Alright, System. How does this work? How do I become powerful?"
[The Undying Regeneration System has one core function: The host's body will regenerate from any injury. A portion of the energy used for regeneration will be refined and converted into pure spiritual energy, strengthening the host.]
Chen Wei's jaw dropped. He read the information that had flooded his mind. Then he read it again. He processed the insane, beautiful, and terrifying logic of it. The path to power was not meditation. It was not alchemy. It was… self-inflicted bodily harm.
His initial shock quickly morphed into delirious glee. For the first time in his life, one of his defining traits—being remarkably prone to accidents and injuries—was a supreme talent. He was a natural!
"I need to test it," he whispered, his eyes gleaming. He looked at his decorative sword. It wasn't sharp enough. His eyes darted around his courtyard before landing on a platter of freshly cut spirit-fruits sitting on a stone table. Next to it was a exquisitely crafted silver knife, meant for peeling.
His hands trembled slightly as he picked it up. The fear was still there, a nagging voice of sanity in the back of his mind screaming that this was a terrible idea. What if it was a lie? What if you just bleed all over the pristine jade walkway and a servant finds you? The shame!
"No risk, no reward," he said, puffing out his chest. He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and dragged the sharp silver blade across his left wrist.
The pain was clean and sharp. A crimson line appeared on his pale skin, blood welling up instantly. Panic seized him for a heartbeat. Idiot! You're an absolute—
A warm light enveloped his wrist. He watched, completely enthralled, as the wound shimmered and vanished. The skin mended itself in seconds, leaving no trace it had ever been broken. It was a miracle.
And then he felt it. A pure stream of spiritual energy, far more refined than any he could absorb from the air, flowed from his wrist and merged with his Dantian. It was a tiny boost, but it was undeniably real.
He had become stronger. From giving himself a minor boo-boo.
The sanity in his mind just gets gagged, tied up, and thrown into a dark closet. All that remained was pure opportunity.
"Again," he breathed, a wide unhinged grin spreading across his face.
He cut his wrist again, deeper this time. The pain was sharper, the healing just as fast, and the surge of power was noticeably stronger. He could feel his stagnant cultivation base stirring, like a sleepy bear poked with a very sharp stick.
"Again! And again!"
He became a whirlwind of scientific inquiry. He sliced his palm. He nicked his arm. He gave himself a rather nasty gash on his leg. Each cut was a transaction, pain for power. And business was booming. He giggled as a cut on his forearm healed, the influx of energy making him feel warm and fuzzy. This was the greatest cultivation technique in the history of the world!
After about a dozen minor cuts, he felt the returns begin to diminish. The high was fading.
"System," he asked, like a connoisseur asking for a stronger vintage. "The effect is weakening. I require… a more robust stimulus."
[Minor injuries provide minor stimuli. Deeper understanding of the Dao of Regeneration requires a greater sacrifice. The greater the damage, the greater the reward.]
He had been thinking too small. He was a Chen! He should be aiming for the heavens! Wrist scratches were for outer sect disciples. He needed to think like a true young master. He needed to escalate.
He looked down at his own silk-robed torso. The next step was obvious. His heart began to pound, a frantic drumbeat of fear and excitement. This was a whole different league of injury.
He clutched the small silver fruit knife. He thought of Arya, effortlessly conjuring fire. He thought of his father's disappointed sighs. He thought of the power, the respect, the glory that was just one good stabbing away.
"For the glory of the Chen Family!" he shouted, though it was really for his own.
He jammed the knife into his stomach.
The world dissolved into a universe of white-hot agony. It was a pain so profound it had a sound—a high-pitched ringing in his ears. His breath was stolen from his lungs. He crumpled to the ground, clutching the handle of the knife buried in his gut, a choked sob tearing from his throat. Blood poured from the wound, staining his expensive robes a ghastly dark crimson.
For a terrifying moment, he was certain he was going to die. This was a mistake! A terrible, terrible mistake!
But then, the golden light erupted. It was a blazing sun centered on his abdomen. He felt the knife being pushed out by mending flesh. He watched in a daze as the horrifying wound sealed shut, muscle and skin weaving themselves back together as if in a time-lapsed dream.
When the light faded, he was left breathless and trembling on the ground. The pain was gone. And in its place was the reward.