Safe to say, the entire world erupted the moment the System's announcement came to an end. Every nation, organization, and individual immediately began discussing the implications of what they had just heard, as the amount of information revealed in only a few short minutes was nothing short of extraordinary. New rewards, a revised cultivation system, original breathing methods, and the mysterious Proving Grounds were all developments capable of changing the course of civilization. Yet despite the scale of the revelations, humanity's reaction differed greatly from the chaos that had followed the System's very first announcement.
People had grown accustomed to its existence.
The first time the System had spoken, panic had spread across the globe like wildfire. Riots had erupted in countless cities, stores had been looted, financial markets had collapsed, and governments had struggled to maintain even the most basic level of public order. Humanity had been confronted with a reality that completely shattered everything it believed about the world, and very few people had possessed the mental preparation necessary to deal with that shock.
Those days were now firmly in the past.
Although the latest announcement surprised everyone, it no longer carried the same sense of existential terror. People had spent years living alongside mana, monsters, Secret Realms, and the ever-present influence of the System. What had once seemed impossible had gradually become part of everyday life, allowing society to react with considerably greater maturity whenever another revelation appeared.
Even the financial markets reflected that growing stability.
Instead of collapsing into complete panic, stock exchanges remained surprisingly calm compared to previous crises. Prices certainly fluctuated as investors attempted to predict which industries would benefit from the latest announcements, but the violent crashes that had once characterized every major System revelation never materialized. Governments quietly celebrated that development, seeing it as another sign that humanity had finally begun adapting to its transformed world.
To an outside observer, the announcement might even have appeared relatively uneventful.
That impression, however, would have been completely mistaken.
The true impact of the announcement did not manifest through riots or economic collapse but through something far more significant. Instead of reacting emotionally, billions of people immediately began asking practical questions about how the new rules would affect their own futures. The focus had shifted from survival to opportunity, making the consequences no less profound than before.
For nearly eighty percent of humanity, one topic immediately dominated every conversation.
Breathing methods.
Unlike rare magical treasures or Stage One breakthroughs, breathing methods would eventually affect almost everyone on the planet. Every ordinary citizen understood that cultivation represented the foundation of future human society, meaning the quality of the breathing method available to them could influence their strength, health, lifespan, and future opportunities for decades to come.
That realization immediately placed governments under enormous pressure.
The System had explicitly instructed every nation to provide breathing methods for civilians who either could not or did not wish to join private factions. There was no possibility of quietly delaying implementation or hiding behind bureaucratic procedures. Every citizen had heard the same announcement directly from the System itself, making secrecy completely impossible.
As a result, public expectations skyrocketed overnight.
People no longer viewed breathing methods as something granted to them by the system. Instead, they saw them as a basic responsibility of the state, much like healthcare or public education. If governments failed to produce high-quality breathing methods, they knew exactly what would follow.
Public outrage.
No politician doubted that reality.
If another nation managed to develop a superior civilian breathing method while their own government settled for mediocrity, comparisons would spread across social media and news broadcasts almost immediately. Citizens would naturally ask why foreign governments valued their people more highly than their own. Given the importance of cultivation in the new age, such criticism could easily grow into nationwide protests.
The pressure became even greater because private factions operated under entirely different rules.
Although the System clearly acknowledged their importance, it also imposed numerous restrictions upon them that did not apply to sovereign nations. Many organizations had discovered those limitations during the previous few years, though few completely understood the reasoning behind them. Even so, most scholars believed those restrictions had been implemented intentionally rather than arbitrarily.
The leading theory was surprisingly straightforward.
Many researchers suspected that Gaia herself simply viewed nations more favorably than private organizations. That did not mean she disliked guilds, corporations, noble houses, or military factions. On the contrary, such groups remained essential for humanity's continued development. Nevertheless, unlike private organizations, governments possessed legal obligations to protect and support every citizen living within their borders.
That distinction mattered enormously.
A nation could not simply abandon millions of ordinary people because doing so proved inconvenient or unprofitable. Governments existed to serve society as a whole, whereas private factions naturally prioritized their own members first. If Gaia truly wished humanity to grow stronger together, then encouraging nations to shoulder that responsibility made perfect sense.
The restrictions placed upon factions reflected that philosophy.
Founding a faction was already an incredibly expensive undertaking, requiring an initial investment of ten thousand silver coins before the System would even recognize its existence. For the overwhelming majority of people, such an amount represented an impossible fortune. Only wealthy organizations, influential families, governments, or successful businesses possessed enough resources to establish official factions in the first place.
Even after paying that enormous cost, additional limitations remained.
Most factions faced strict membership caps that prevented them from expanding without restraint. They could employ countless workers, researchers, craftsmen, or soldiers while officially recognizing only a limited number as true members. The distinction appeared strange at first, but gradually people began understanding its purpose.
Membership carried privileges that ordinary employment could not provide.
Official members received access to exclusive ways to upgrade their skills, faction benefits, internal rewards, and opportunities unavailable to outsiders. Employees, meanwhile, often performed exactly the same work without sharing those advantages. As a result, many people consciously chose not to pursue faction membership because they believed the benefits simply did not justify the obligations required in return.
The announcement concerning civilian breathing methods complicated that arrangement considerably.
If governments now had to provide cultivation methods for the general population, many factions would likely continue reserving their most advanced techniques exclusively for official members. Others might attempt to sell access to their methods for enormous sums of money, transforming cultivation knowledge into yet another valuable commodity. Neither possibility surprised Arin in the slightest.
He had already begun considering the economic consequences.
"If I were running a faction," he thought absentmindedly, "I'd probably do exactly the same thing."
Powerful breathing methods would probably represent years of research and experimentation. Expecting organizations to distribute them freely simply because governments provided basic alternatives seemed unrealistic. Competition between civilian and faction techniques would almost certainly become another defining feature of the new era.
Unfortunately, Arin's thoughts wandered a little too far.
He had only been informed a short while earlier that he would participate in an emergency meeting of the family's Elder Council to help develop their own breathing method. Rather than paying attention to the discussions taking place around him, his imagination repeatedly drifted toward future possibilities and the countless political consequences of the System's latest announcement.
It had not even been an hour since the worldwide broadcast ended.
Already, he found himself seated inside one of the family's principal meeting rooms alongside several of the clan's most experienced elders. A large blackboard occupied one wall, while a movable whiteboard stood ready at the front of the room for diagrams and explanations. Sheets of paper, writing brushes, and reference materials had already been prepared long before everyone arrived.
Only one person remained absent.
Karl.
Unlike everyone else present, Karl possessed the authority required to access the System's official submission process for new breathing methods. According to the information distributed after the announcement, only designated representatives from recognized factions could submit techniques for review. Arin quietly suspected the restriction existed because Gaia wanted to avoid drowning beneath millions of poorly written cultivation manuals submitted by enthusiastic amateurs.
The thought almost made him laugh.
Instead, he leaned comfortably against the back of his chair while waiting for the meeting to begin.
The older members of the family used the delay to quietly exchange ideas among themselves, discussing possible cultivation theories, ancient traditions, and everything they currently understood about mana. Their conversation flowed naturally from one topic to another, occasionally becoming animated before settling down again. Arin simply listened without interrupting, gradually feeling his eyelids grow heavier after the excitement of the previous hour.
He nearly nodded off.
At that exact moment, the meeting room door slowly opened.
Karl stepped inside carrying several thick books beneath one arm and a stack of handwritten notes beneath the other. His expression immediately told everyone present that he had spent the last hour reading as much information as humanly possible. Without wasting a single moment, he walked directly toward the movable whiteboard, pulled it to the center of the semicircle of chairs, and placed his notes neatly upon its tray.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Karl said as he looked around the room.
"I've spent the last hour reviewing every officially released guideline concerning the creation of breathing methods."
He took a slow breath before continuing.
"And I have to admit..." Karl said with a weary smile. "The number of possible approaches is far greater than I initially expected."