This world was vast, far larger than Scarlett had first imagined.
It was divided into five great continents, divided by space and heavenly law, as traversing through continents requires massive strength to challenge the heavenly law or with a space passage artifact. Each continent existed under different conditions, governed by the density of mana in the land and the strength of those who ruled it.
Scarlett currently stood on the Fifth Continent.
The lowest.
Here, mana was thin and uneven, like breath taken at high altitude. Cultivation was possible, but difficult. Progress was slow, breakthroughs uncertain, and true geniuses painfully rare. Yet despite the harsh conditions, people here cultivated with desperate seriousness.
Because everyone knew the same truth:
The Fifth Continent was not the destination.
It was the starting line.
Those strong enough, lucky enough could one day ascend to higher continents, where mana was richer, techniques deeper, and power more absolute. It was the dream whispered in sect halls and training grounds, passed from elder to disciple like a sacred promise.
But knowledge of the higher continents was limited.
Most cultivators of the Fifth only knew of the Fourth Continent, spoken of in half-remembered legends and fragmentary records. As for the First, Second, and Third?
They were little more than myths.
Not because they didn't exist but because those who lived there had no reason to acknowledge the lower realms at all.
To them, the Fifth Continent was insignificant.
An anthill.
A place filled with ants struggling toward a sky they would never reach. Some high-level cultivators didn't even bother to despise the lower continents. Crushing them wasn't hatred—it was indifference.
And yet, the people here continued to cultivate.
Because doing nothing meant certain death, after all power rules the sky and the weak perish.
At the core of all cultivation lay the same foundation, the mana core.
A mana core was a condensed manifestation of elemental affinity formed within the body, the center from which all power flowed. Without it, one was no different from an ordinary mortal.
The most common mana cores were four.
Red, representing fire—violent, destructive, and straightforward.
Green, representing earth—stable, defensive, and enduring.
Blue, representing water—adaptive, fluid, and resilient.
Grey, representing wind—swift, unpredictable, and sharp.
These four formed the backbone of cultivation across the Fifth Continent. Techniques, manuals, and formations were built around them. Any sect could train these affinities. Any city could support their growth.
They were ordinary.
Reliable.
Then there were the rare cores.
Silver, for ice—cold, precise, and merciless.
Brown, for wood—life-bound, regenerative, and slow-burning.
Purple, for lightning—violent, explosive, and difficult to control.
Gold, for metal—unyielding, sharp, and terrifying in combat.
Black, for darkness—dangerous, corruptive, and often forbidden.
White, for light—pure, stabilizing, and dangerously conspicuous.
These affinities were uncommon on the Fifth Continent, sometimes appearing only once in generations. Possessing one could elevate a cultivator to genius status—or mark them for exploitation and death.
Above all affinities stood the cultivation realms themselves.
Progression was rigid, unforgiving, and universally acknowledged:
Core Refining Stage – where mana was first condensed and controlled.
Foundation Establishment – where one anchored themselves to the world's laws.
Core Stability Realm – where power became reliable and consistent.
Golden Core Stage – where cultivators stepped beyond mortal limits.
Nascent Soul Realm – where the soul itself became a weapon.
Each realm was divided into nine levels, followed by a peak stage.
Crossing realms was not guaranteed. Many died trying. Others stagnated forever.
And in this world, power followed a rule that would have shocked Scarlett in her previous life.
Women were stronger.
Women possessed denser mana cores, greater compatibility with elemental forces, and far higher breakthrough rates. They dominated sect leadership, battlefields, and political power.
Men, by contrast, cultivated differently.
Their core energies were weaker in direct combat but uniquely suited to stabilization—calming volatile mana, suppressing deviations, and soothing inner demons. As a result, powerful women often kept multiple male partners, not just for status or desire, but as a necessity.
Strength was flaunted in many ways.
Wealth.
Authority.
And men.
Among the countless organizations scattered across the Fifth Continent, five stood at the peak.
The Five Great Sects.
First was the Heavenly Pavilion Sect.
They believed the world itself was a chessboard. Their disciples focused on prediction, probability, formations, and battlefield control. They accepted cultivators of many affinities, but favored Wind, Earth, and Light.
They rarely fought directly.
They didn't need to.
Next was the Crimson Vow Sect.
A brutal, uncompromising sect that believed power was born through pain and commitment. Disciples swore blood oaths binding cultivation to will. Weak resolve meant death—no exceptions.
Their primary affinities were Fire and Metal, and their fighters were infamous across the continent.
Third stood the Azure Sky Sword Hall.
A sect that worshiped the sword as the ultimate truth. Its disciples cultivated Wind, Lightning, and Ice, producing peerless swordsmen who believed a single strike should decide everything.
Pride was their virtue.
Strength their proof.
Fourth was the Verdant Dawn Abbey.
Orthodox, disciplined, and realistic. They accepted orphans, wanderers, and commoners alike, offering a path into cultivation—but advancement was merciless. Resources were distributed strictly by merit. Those who fell behind were quietly pushed aside.
They favored Water, Wind, Earth, and Light, producing stable cultivators rather than monsters.
And finally—
The Silent Snow Palace.
A place where emotions were buried alongside weakness. Cultivating Ice and Water, their disciples suppressed desire and attachment to achieve clarity and control. Beautiful. Distant. Unforgiving.
It was into this world—this brutal, layered hierarchy—that Scarlett now returned.
At this very moment, she was heading back toward the abbey's examination grounds.
Unaware eyes awaited her.
Judgments would be made.
And the girl who had once died there would not return the same.