After hours of shameless indulgence in the courtyard, the haze of moans and sweat finally broke with the sound of a summons.
The new disciples, still dazed and flushed, were ordered to gather at the Technique Pavilion.
Zhao Yan trailed behind the group, keeping to the shadows as they filed through the stone corridors.
When they stepped inside, a vast chamber unfolded before them—a library, though not the kind Zhao Yan expected.
Towering shelves stretched across the room, but the emptiness between them was glaring.
Whole rows stood barren, with only a sparse scattering of texts.
Zhao Yan's gaze swept the chamber, lips tightening.
'Thirty-six.'
That was the number he counted, each book standing out in lonely contrast against the yawning gaps.
Even if a few more were hidden, he could tell with certainty this collection would not pass fifty.
For a sect built on dual cultivation techniques, this amount was almost laughable.
The middle-aged man from the day before strode with measured steps to the farthest corner.
Without flourish, he plucked a book from the shelf and turned to face the disciples.
His voice carried across the silent room with a weight that pressed down on them.
"Pass this around among yourselves," he ordered, handing the volume to the nearest child.
"Each of you will can hold it for no more than a minute." His eyes narrowed, watching their eager faces.
"If any of you can truly comprehend what lies within, your cultivation will rise like fire through dry grass."
"It will carry you to the heavens themselves."
With that, he folded his hands behind his back and fell silent.
The book passed from hand to hand, and with each new reader the change was the same.
At first, eyes lit with expectation, lips curling into a faint smile—only for that spark to wither into a frown the longer they stared at the pages.
When their allotted minute slipped away, they handed it off reluctantly, as if parting with it might somehow rob them of a secret just out of reach.
Half an hour later, the book finally reached Zhao Yan. He accepted it with both hands, his expression calm, but the moment his eyes fell on the page, his heart jolted.
'English?'
The neat handwriting scrawled across the first page read: Diary of Amber Williams.
He quickly masked the shock twisting through him.
Scratching his head, he gave a sheepish smile and muttered just loud enough for those nearby to hear, "I don't know how to read."
A chorus of disdainful snorts answered him.
Some disciples rolled their eyes, others turned away entirely, dismissing him as a fool not even worth mocking.
Meanwhile, Zhao Yan carefully flipped the first page. His eyes flickered over the text, and his breath caught.
I have been transmigrated into this world with a Dual Cultivation System.
His fingers tightened on the book. He turned the next page, then another.
Each carried only a line or two, almost like cryptic fragments, yet every sentence burrowed deeper into him.
Outwardly, he played the part of a clueless boy, turning the pages with feigned disinterest, murmuring under his breath as though merely repeating what he saw.
But inside, every line struck like a hammer against still water, sending ripples crashing through his mind.
"Time's up!" the middle-aged man's voice cut through the silence.
Zhao Yan closed the book with deliberate slowness, forcing a smile that hovered between respect and mockery.
He handed it back with a bow, but behind that controlled mask his thoughts surged like a storm-tossed river, threatening to break free at any moment.
As Zhao Yan stepped back from the others, fragments of the diary replayed vividly in his mind.
...
My name is Amber Williams.
And if you've reading this diary—then you already know:
You're not from here either.
Just like I was.
I woke up in a stranger's body, in a world full of swords and spirit roots and "young masters" who looked at me like I was a breeding tool in a silk dress.
I had no great sect behind me. No bloodline. No legacy.
But I had something else.
A system.
Dual Cultivation System.
Every time I bedded a man, my cultivation rose.
Not metaphorically—literally.
I bled through my first time and broke into Qi Condensation by the end of the night.
Then later, every man I took into my bed, I drank his strength like wine.
I learned to ride power the way I rode bodies.
Their fingers gripped my hips in desperation. Their mouths whispered devotion between gasps. Their seed poured into me like lightning through a storm—and I grew.
Qi Condensation shattered under my thighs. Foundation Establishment bloomed in my breathless screams.
I fucked my way through so-called geniuses who crumbled under my touch.
I swallowed their pride, rode their arrogance, and took their essence like nectar.
The stronger they were, the harder I made them fall.
I learned where their power pooled beneath the skin. Where to touch. Where to grind. Where to take until they gave me everything they had—and more.
And gods, I loved it. The heat. The control. The look in their eyes when they realized I was the one on top—not just in bed, but in power.
And just when Golden Core was within reach—when I thought I'd finally carved my place into this world through sweat, moans, and blood—I saw the strings.
The system wasn't a gift.
It wasn't even mine.
It was Heaven's leash.
No, worse. It was this world's will—infantile, needy, starving for evolution.
And it wanted me to be its vessel.
Not just to gather qi through sex.
But to reshape this world.
"Gender Equality."
It wanted to burn the old order down.
And only then… only then would I be allowed to ascend.
That was the real condition.
It wanted Revolution.
And I tried. I swore I did.
I stood before the alliance leader, naked in body and purpose, and declared a future where women would be more than wombs and tools.
Where daughters wouldn't be bartered for alliances, and wives wouldn't be imprisoned by "face" and obedience.
But he called me delusional.
The same man who worshipped my body in the dark turned cold in the light.
He used to call me goddess in bed but now, he called me mad.
I gave him pleasure beyond comprehension—and he gave me betrayal in return.
Even those who begged for my touch turned cold when I demanded they change their views.
I burned. I bled. I broke.
And.. I died.
Not on the battlefield.
But in the silence of a hall where no one would stand beside me.
And yet…
My soul refused to fade.
And so I remain.
If you're reading this, then you've been chosen too.
The system lives in you now.
That itch between your thighs? That hunger for power after every kiss, every thrust?
It's just beginning.
Another plaything in this world's twisted ascent.
But you don't have to fall like I did.
Come to the clan leader's residence. I'm still there.
I'll teach you what they never dared write in the scrolls.
How to turn sex into ascension.
How to build a new world with sweat, steel, and seduction.
And how to make Heaven scream your name as you rip the skies open.
We will...
Rise.
Rule.
Ravish.
—Amber Williams
...