[Location — Sea of Consciousness, Han Chen]
The sea stretched endlessly in all directions—inky black, unmoving, yet brimming with an eerie energy that clung to the skin like cold mist. Above, a red moon hung low, bleeding its dull glow across the horizon. The sky offered no stars, only the perpetual twilight of a world that wasn't real, yet wasn't illusion either.
This was the Sea of Consciousness—Han Chen's inner world.
He stood silently, eyes narrowed as he scanned the vast expanse. Thick red mist swirled around his legs. And in the sky—just as before—it floated. A black eyeball, unmoving, hovering in the air. At its center, a purple pupil pulsed softly.
Han Chen exhaled slowly. "So I'm here again."
Suddenly, a voice rang out, the same cold resonance that had echoed through his mind the last time. "THIS IS MY CULTIVATION METHOD. I WILL PASS IT ON TO YOU."
Without warning, a red orb of light emerged from the purple pupil. It shimmered, then darted forward—WHISH!—and sank straight into Han Chen's forehead.
CRACK!
His eyes didn't widen. His body didn't flinch. But inside, something was unraveling.
A flood of foreign memories—yet somehow familiar—burst open in his mind like a dam giving way. He didn't understand where they came from, but he understood them. The knowledge was immediate and deep. "This technique... If anyone from the Immortal Sects of the Lu Continent knew I had this, they wouldn't hesitate to hunt me down." he thought.
The voice continued, calm and absolute.
"CELESTIAL MERIDIAN TECHNIQUE... is divided into three paths."
"SPIRITUAL CULTIVATION – for alchemy and artifact refining."
"BODY CULTIVATION – meridians, veins, blood vessels, flesh, and bones."
"And MIND CULTIVATION – for strengthening the mind against charm, illusions, and aiding in array and restriction crafting."
A pause.
"But it can only be cultivated by one or more star... ETERNALS. You are not ready."
Silence hung for a moment. Then the voice spoke again.
"As a replacement, I will give this library to you."
From the still black waters of the sea, ripples began to spread.
GLOOP... GLOOP... RUMBLE...
Suddenly, a massive wooden structure rose from the depths, its surface soaked in the thick black liquid, creaking and groaning as it ascended. Han Chen found himself already inside—there had been no transition, just a shift.
THUD!
Wooden shelves emerged from the ground, one after another, extending into the darkened heights. The air smelled faintly of ink and sandalwood. It was a library. But not one from any ordinary world.
"THIS LIBRARY CONTAINS A LARGE VARIETY OF CULTIVATION, FIGHTING, ARRAY, RESTRICTION, ALCHEMY, ARTIFACT REFINING… AND ANYTHING ELSE YOU CAN IMAGINE. SEVEN FLOORS. EACH FLOOR HAS 18 HALLS. EACH HALL CONTAINS 31 ROOMS. EACH ROOM CONTAINS MORE THAN 20,000 BOOKS/SLIPS/ORBS."
Han Chen slowly walked between the shelves, his footsteps echoing. Books, scrolls, jade slips—knowledge whispered from every direction. He didn't say a word, didn't show it on his face—but inside, he was shaken.
'What kind of being could create this… and give it away so freely?' he thought.
The voice returned, now quieter, tinged with finality.
"This is the last time I can speak to you. Goodbye. But before that..."
A sudden shift.
"HEAVENLY EYE... OPEN!"
BOOM!
The black eyeball trembled in the sky.
A powerful surge of purple light burst from its pupil like a beam, flashing across the Sea of Consciousness. The air twisted. A tear opened in the space before Han Chen—like a curtain being ripped apart. A portal shimmered into existence, showing a landscape on the other side that was... different. Darker. Wilder.
"THIS IS THE PORTAL TO THE OTHER REALM."
"HERE, YOU CAN CULTIVATE. BUT BE CAREFUL..."
The voice turned grim, edged with warning.
"THIS WORLD IS FULL OF THOSE WHO WISH TO KILL ME. IF THEY FIND YOU... YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN."
CRACK!
The voice faded into silence. The Sea of Consciousness stilled once again.
Han Chen stared at the swirling portal before him and a large knowledge ground behind him.
Behind him, the immense library stood like an eternal monument—its towering wooden shelves stretching beyond sight. Before him, the portal shimmered, showing glimpses of a dark, unfamiliar world swirling in shadows and stormlight.
Han Chen stood between two vast unknowns: knowledge behind him, and danger ahead.
His eyes narrowed.
"Why me?" The question whispered again in his mind.
He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the scale of the library. There was no one else. No sound, no presence, no explanation. Just the library, the portal, and the echoes of that now-vanished voice.
"Why would the so-called 'Heavenly Eye' choose me? Was it just because I was there first? Or is there something else I don't know yet?" His heart beat faster—not from fear, but from excitement.
Until now, he had been just a mortal. Chopping wood. Hauling water. Living from one day to the next. A small existence in a vast, indifferent world. But now—he had tasted something greater. Power. Mystery. The scent of immortality was in the air, and it was intoxicating. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself.
"Alright... first things first. I know nothing about this world. Nothing about cultivation, sects, techniques, or even the rules of it all." He turned away from the portal.
"Let's start with the library. Understand the basics first—only then can I stand a chance in this new world." The first floor, first hall, and room one.
Its name was etched into the wooden arch above the door in gold characters : Basics of Cultivation
Han Chen stepped inside. The scent of ink, parchment, and age lingered in the air, warm and oddly comforting. The room was big, grandiose. Many long shelves. A reading table. A few glowing orbs floating gently above, casting soft white light. And at the center of the shelf, resting atop a pedestal, a single book titled : "BASICS"
"Convenient," he thought, almost suspicious of how perfectly tailored everything was.
He picked up the book. Its cover was plain, but as he opened it, a thin breeze passed through the room—WHSSH—as if the library itself acknowledged his first step into cultivation.
The contents were straightforward but eye-opening.
1st Step Of Cultivation Contains 9 Realms.
Qi Condensation - The entry point into cultivation. The act of sensing, gathering, and refining spiritual energy—Qi—into one's body. It has 10 stars, representing ten levels of progression.
From there, the path ascends through realms, each more profound than the last :
Qi Condensation (10 stars – Entry Realm)
Foundation Establishment (7 stars – Initial mastery of internal Qi)
Core Formation (7 stars – Qi forms a Golden Core, major milestone)
Nascent Soul (7 stars – Soul gains form, spiritual presence awakens)
Soul Formation (7 stars – Strengthening of soul and spiritual awareness)
Soul Transformation (7 stars – Beginning of separation from the mortal realm)
Deity Formation (7 stars – Half-step into the divine)
Deity Transformation (7 stars – Body, soul, and mind begin transcending)
Ascendant (7 stars – A step into immortality)
Each realm was described in layers of detail—its purpose, the nature of breakthroughs, and the risks involved. Han Chen read slowly, absorbing every line. "So... I'm at Qi Condensation, 1-star." He tapped his chest lightly. "Now, I know what I'm reaching toward."
The next section covered Alchemy.
1st Step of Alchemy divided in 8 Grades :
Grade 1 pills – for Qi Condensation to early Core Formation.
Grade 2 pills – for Foundation Establishment to Late Core Formation.
Grade 3 pills – for Late Foundation Establishment to Mid-Nascent Soul.
... and so on, With Grade 8 – reserved for Ascendants and those beyond.]
Each grade was further divided by pill purity, affecting potency and side effects.
Any realm cultivator can take any grade pill but the effects and losses will depend.
If a Qi Condensation took Grade 7 Pill He/She would Bust.
"So alchemists are essential to cultivation... healing, enhancing, breaking through bottlenecks. No wonder they're so respected."
Next came Artifact Refining.
It mirrored the structure of alchemy :
Artifacts, too, are classified from Grade 1 to 8, matching the same realm thresholds.
Grade 1 artifacts: Basic flying swords, defensive talismans, Qi-gathering tools.
-------
Grade 8: Sentient artifacts, some capable of destroying mountains or tearing space itself.
Han Chen smirked faintly. "Awesome!!"
Finally, Arrays & Restrictions.
This discipline had 9 grades, similar to cultivation realms.
From Grade 1 to Grade 9.
Each grade was split into Tier : Low. Mid. High.
Arrays were formations that manipulated space, Qi flow, or energy—used for defense, offense, or sealing. Restrictions were just a portable form of arrays.
"So arrays are like formation blueprints... and restrictions are their portable form."
It was complex. But logical. He closed the book slowly, setting it down on the pedestal.
Silence again. But not the silence of emptiness—this was the silence of understanding.
He clenched his fist.
"My first goal... I must allow the Heavenly Eye to absorb seven types of spiritual energy : Water, Fire, Earth, Metal, Wood, Life, and Death."
The library was silent. Rows of ancient wooden shelves stood tall like sentinels, their shadows stretching across the smooth stone floor. Han Chen stepped lightly, his eyes scanning the worn plaques above each room as he walked through Floor 1, Hall 3.
He paused at Room 5.
A small plate above the door : Cultivation Techniques.
Taking a breath, Han Chen stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of old parchment and incense.
Dust floated in the slivers of light beaming through high, narrow windows. He closed the door quietly behind him.
"Let's see..." he murmured.
Raising his right hand, he began to circulate his spiritual energy, focusing it into his palm.
A gentle warmth built up in his core and moved outward, threads of invisible force flowing like water through his meridians.
Then—WUUUMM! A low hum filled the air.
From the far corner of the room, an orb lifted slowly from a cluster of scattered jade slips.
It floated, wobbling slightly, as it drifted toward him. The orb was a light green, with a single red character glowing on its surface "Devour".
Han Chen's eyes narrowed. "Interesting…"
After spending so much time in the library, Han Chen discovered that he could channel spiritual power into his palm—and the technique that suited him best would come to him on its own.
He allowed the orb to rest above his palm. The moment it made contact—WHHHMMM—a surge of energy rushed into him.
Inside his sea of consciousness, it was like a dam had broken. Streams of knowledge, techniques, and intent flooded into him. Symbols, forms, battle applications—all of it etched into his mind at once.
Time passed. He didn't know how long.
When the energy finally subsided, Han Chen opened his eyes slowly. His expression was unreadable… until the corners of his mouth lifted, slightly.
With a cold, steady tone in his thoughts, he said, "This is it."
KNOCK. KNOCK.
A distant sound echoed through the sea of consciousness.
His brows furrowed.
"Someone… outside?"
—
Real World
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The knocking was firmer now.
Han Chen's eyes snapped open.
He was sitting cross-legged on a thin cushion inside a small rented room at the inn. The scent of burning wood and boiled rice drifted through the half-open window. The dim candle on the side table flickered.
Another knock. He turned his head toward the door.
"Come in," he said, voice cold and flat.
The door creaked open. A young woman stepped in, carrying a wooden tray. Steam curled up from the bowls of soup and rice. She hesitated near the door, then walked in slowly, placing the food on the table. As she set the tray down, her eyes drifted toward him. Han Chen sat still, his hands resting on his knees. His back was straight, posture calm but alert. His hair was dark again—pitch black, cleaned and combed back. His skin, once hidden beneath layers of dust, was now pale and smooth.
His reddish eyes glinted slightly in the candlelight.
The inn worker glanced at him discreetly, thinking, "He actually looks... good. When he first arrived, the inn master almost threw him out—those ragged clothes, the dirt in his hair... But to our surprise, he paid. After a wash and clean clothes... he looks like a completely different person."
She gave a small nod to herself before stepping back toward the door. "Food's here," she said softly, her tone more respectful than before. He didn't respond. His gaze stayed on the tray, but his mind was elsewhere.
—
Han Chen had arrived at the inn a day ago, looking no better than a beggar. A landslide had nearly buried him with it. His once-long and black hair had turned a whitish brown from dried mud and dust. His robes were torn, his boots gone. Even the locals had avoided him.
—
She was just about to leave.
The corridor behind her was dim, lit only by flickering amber sconces spaced too far apart.
She didn't look back — no reason to.
Then—CRACK! A sound like splitting air behind her.
Darkness surged from behind—Like gravity itself had snapped open a hole behind her.
And then—NOTHINGNESS.
No sound. No scent. No floor beneath her. No breath in her lungs. Her limbs didn't exist anymore. Her thoughts began to slow, sluggish and thick like oil. "What's going on?"
Her mind grasped at the question, but it slipped through her like smoke.
A flicker.
Her vision returned in pulses of dim red.
Then pain — not dull or sudden, but wrong. Deep in her chest.
She tried to scream. Nothing came out. "Why… can't I move—"
Her eyes widened. Blood had rushed into them, veining her sclera with a deep crimson. She forced herself to look down —A hand.
Jet black. Cold. Buried deep in her chest, fingers curled not around bone — but her heart.
And behind her—Han Chen.
Expression calm. Breath steady. His eyes didn't glow. He didn't monologue. He just watched her, studied her.
Then — he pulled.
Schlck!
The wet sound of flesh parting.
Her knees buckled. Her legs gave out. Her whole body followed, dropping hard to the floor like a puppet cut from its strings.
Thud!
A trail of pink-tinged foam leaked from the corner of her lips. Blood mixed with it, running down her chin in slow, trembling drips. She couldn't speak. Her eyes fluttered. She dropped Unconscious.
Han Chen looked down at the heart in his palm — still beating. Still humming with something faint and flickering.
Thmp. Thmp… Thmp.
Without a word, he opened his mouth.
CRUNCH!
He bit into it. Warm blood rolled over his tongue.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
With three bites, he ate the heart raw.
-----TO BE CONTINUED-----