"To be reborn is not mercy; it is the world demanding you finish what death could not."
Crystal stared into the mirror, her reflection glowing softly in the morning light.
The young face that looked back at her should have filled her with joy — skin unscarred, eyes bright, body alive and full of energy.
But happiness was fleeting.
Because as she gazed into her reflection, a faint flicker of green flashed behind her eyes.
And then the memories came.
The light.
The void.
The collapsing world of blood and moonlight.
The system's voice.
Its words carved themselves across her mind once again, clear as the moment she had heard them:
1. Die – Completed.
2. Create a Soul Sea – Incomplete.
3. Find a Soul Mate – Incomplete.
Her breath trembled.
She had already completed the first condition — she had died.
But the other two…
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the faint, rhythmic beat beneath her palm. "The system," she whispered. "What even are you?"
It had been waiting for her — there, in the Blood World, beneath the collapsing sky. But why? Why her? Why only after her death?
Her reflection blurred slightly as she tried to piece it together.
The Blood World — the endless sea of crimson. The two statues. The serpent goddess and the man in the straw hat. The chaos, the destruction, the system emerging from the ruins.
Was it all real? Or some kind of test between life and death?
The questions tangled in her mind, one feeding another until they became a storm of confusion.
"Why did that world collapse the moment I received the system?" she muttered. "Was it because of me? Or… was it because of the system?"
Her thoughts spiraled.
There were no answers. The green light that had guided her was gone, silent since her awakening. She tried calling for it — mentally, spiritually — but there was nothing. No response. No presence.
It was as if the system itself had vanished from existence.
And yet… she could feel it, faintly. A lingering pulse inside her chest. Like something watching from deep within her soul.
2. Create a Soul Sea.
The words echoed through her again.
Her fingers clenched around the edge of the mirror as the weight of the task sank in.
A Soul Sea.
Even saying it felt absurd.
That wasn't just another cultivation stage. It was something beyond — something only whispered of in legends.
Her reflection hardened as she whispered to herself, "A Soul Sea… is not like cultivation."
Narration begins – tone shift
"In every cultivator's body, there are three sources of power," the world itself seemed to say.
"The mind, the heart, and the dantian."
The dantian — where qi is refined, stored, and cycled. The heart — where emotion becomes strength and intent takes form. And the mind — the gate of perception, where will and understanding shape one's path.
But beyond these three… lies something deeper — something few have ever dared to touch.
Cultivators of this world discovered that within themselves exists an unseen realm — an inner reflection of existence itself. They call it… the Chaos World.
It is said that this inner world mirrors the soul of the cultivator — a realm without boundaries, shaped by chaos, governed by will.
In its skies float the Moons and Stars of the Mind Sea which is the mind — symbols of perception, enlightenment, and understanding. Beneath them burns the Soul Light which is the heart— the very essence of a being, pure and eternal.
And below that, where void becomes form, lie the Realms of Cultivation with is the dantian— the foundation upon which power is built.
But among all things within the Chaos World, the Soul Sea is the rarest — the divine impossibility.
It is said that to create a Soul Sea is to forge a sea of energy within one's very soul — a world within the self where heaven and spirit coexist. But the soul is not a vessel; it is the self. How can one shape what one is? To command the soul is to defy the laws of heaven itself.
Thus, only a handful throughout history have ever touched it — those whose souls transcended mortality itself. Even the immortals, whose existence surpassed time, could not truly claim to have created it.
Narration ends – back to Crystal
Crystal's expression turned grim as the memory of her master's words echoed in her mind.
"Even immortals dare not attempt it. The soul cannot drink the power of heaven without being burned."
She exhaled softly, the weight of it pressing on her like iron.
"So…" she whispered. "I'm supposed to do what even immortals couldn't?"
Her laughter was quiet, humorless. "In three weeks?"
Her thoughts darkened further as the third requirement flashed through her mind.
3. Find your soul mate.
Her voice trembled, half-angry, half-broken. "Soul mate? My husband betrayed me, murdered me. I conquered kingdoms for him and still… he left me to die."
She looked at her reflection again, eyes sharp, furious. "And you want me to find another?"
For a moment, the room fell silent — too silent.
Crystal blinked, realizing she'd spoken aloud.
Then she noticed her maid and the servants still gathered at the door.
They were staring at her in horror.
One of them whispered, "…Has our lady finally gone mad?"
Crystal froze mid-thought.
"Ah." She cleared her throat, forcing an awkward smile. "Just… cultivation reflection practice."
The servants didn't look convinced.
The maid bit her lip. "You were… talking to your mirror, my lady."
Crystal's smile twitched. "That's… part of the process."
The tension was so thick you could've cut it with a blade.
And yet, for the first time since waking, a faint hint of amusement crossed her mind. If I tell them I'm arguing with an invisible system that wants me to defy heaven and find a soulmate, they'd probably call an exorcist.
Still, beneath the faint humor, the weight of her reality remained.
She was alive again. But her second chance came with impossible demands — and a ticking clock.
As she turned away from the mirror, her expression hardened into something colder, sharper — the look of a woman who had already faced death once and wasn't afraid to face it again.
"Fine," she murmured. "If heaven wants to test me, then I'll make heaven regret it."
Outside her room, the morning sunlight deepened, casting long golden rays across the mansion courtyard.
Unbeknownst to Crystal, one of the guards stationed at the gate, upon hearing that "the General's granddaughter" had awoken, whistled sharply.
A spirit bird — small, sleek, and glowing faintly with qi — fluttered down onto his arm. The guard tied a small jade scroll to its leg, murmuring, "To the palace. Urgent."
The bird took off, wings slicing through the morning air as it soared toward the distant jade rooftops of the royal palace.
Its message was simple.
"She's awake."
Who that message was meant for — only time would tell.
"Heaven's second chances are never blessings; they are storms waiting to test your soul."