The wind whispered through the forest canopy, brushing over leaves and branches like a gentle song lost in time.
Deep within the forest, under a slanted old spirit tree with bark like dragon scales, Lin Fan lay flat on a bed of moss and dried grass, one arm beneath his head and the other lazily resting over his stomach.
His eyes were half-open, scanning the golden streaks of evening sunlight as they filtered through the green above.
It had been a week since his Martial Soul Awakening.
A week since the Sharingan had settled into his soul like a red eclipse.
And a week since his life in this world had quietly split from the one Douluo Dalu knew.
No fanfare.
No flashy battles.
No crying out to the heavens.
Just him, his gacha system, a passive cultivation technique that made him moan the first time he used it — and now, a quiet patch of forest.
His soul power had now reached Rank 3.
It wasn't impressive on paper, but considering he had only consumed one pill and let the Breathing Technique do the rest passively, it was absurd.
Lin Fan had begun to understand the rhythm of it.
The Breathing Technique didn't just passively cultivate — it refined.
It extracted the essence of spirit energy with surgical precision and converted it into usable soul power without waste.
It was a god-tier technique... with one very specific drawback.
"...It still feels way too good," he muttered, voice dry.
His body twitched slightly.
The forest was thick with natural energy tonight, and his breathing was involuntary — which meant that every inhale was like a small electric kiss to his soul.
He grunted, quietly.
It wasn't overwhelming anymore, not like the first few days, but he still wasn't entirely used to the low hum of stimulation that crawled through his body every hour.
"If anyone sees me cultivating and making these sounds, I'm burying myself."
Lin Fan sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
His simple cloak was slightly damp from dew, his hair messy but clean enough — he had found a clear stream deeper in the woods where he washed each morning. Food was foraged or occasionally gacha-granted (he still had an unopened packet of MRE ramen and some glowing berries that gave mild hallucinations).
He reached over to a smooth rock nearby, where he'd etched a small calendar with a piece of sharp spirit beast bone.
Seven lines scratched in. One week.
[System Notification]
Gacha Pulls: 4 Available
Tip: Gacha can be pulled individually or stored up. Higher luck improves chance of rare or cross-verse items.
Lin Fan stared at the floating text and smirked.
He still remembered the first pull — that indestructible panty helmet — and how seriously he'd considered wearing it until the bird spirits started staring too hard.
Then came the Breathing Technique, which changed everything.
After that? Nothing. He'd waited.
And he was still waiting.
Because patience, he knew, was power.
He wasn't some battle maniac charging toward destiny.
He was an anomaly in a world built on expectations.
Every pull, every step, had to be carefully placed.
"…But maybe I'll go for five pulls before the next draw," he whispered, scratching his chin.
Later that day, he perched on a tree branch near the edge of the forest.
Through the shifting leaves, he could just barely see the village below — crooked rooftops, dirty paths, and villagers slowly moving about their lives like weary gears in a broken clock.
And then he saw him.
Huo Yuhao.
Carrying a wooden pail twice his size.
Skinny.
Eyes sunken, lips chapped.
His back slightly hunched, shoulders weighed down by something heavier than poverty.
Lin Fan narrowed his eyes.
There was still time.
Yuhao's mother hadn't died yet — she was alive, if barely.
Her death in the original story came not long after awakening. But here, in this altered thread, Lin Fan would make sure things didn't repeat.
"I'll save her," he said, voice low. "Even if Yuhao doesn't understand it yet."
Because Lin Fan did.
He understood what loss meant.
He had memories — Earth memories — of funerals with no attendees, parents buried without gravestones, and an empty apartment that echoed with silence.
No one had saved him.
But he could save others now.
Step by step.
As night fell, he returned to his hideaway.
He sat cross-legged, centering his breathing.
Spirit energy swirled faintly around him like unseen mist, slipping through the pores of his skin and into his veins.
The Breathing Technique engaged again — automatic, relentless.
He stiffened slightly.
"…Hnnng."
Another wave of pleasure rippled across his body — not overwhelming, just deeply inconvenient.
If someone stumbled upon him now, they'd assume he was doing something... unspeakable.
"Rank 4 better come with desensitization," he hissed through clenched teeth.
But he didn't stop.
He never did.
Because even this ridiculous cultivation method was working.
And because out there, in the same timeline he once read like a novel, events were ticking forward.
The White Tiger Duke's shadow loomed.
And Huo Yuhao's future trembled on a knife's edge.
Lin Fan inhaled slowly, and this time, he didn't wince.
He smiled.
The world had no idea what was coming.
But he did.