The moon was full — a pale eye staring down at the capital, half-curious, half-afraid.
Yue Zihan stood on the palace balcony, the blindfold fluttering faintly in the cold night wind.
Below him, lanterns glowed like fragile stars — lives, dreams, and delusions, all flickering quietly.
He leaned against the railing, his long white hair shimmering silver under the light.
[Observation:] You've been staring at mortals for two hours.
Host experiencing compassion or boredom?
Zihan smirked. "Is there a difference?"
[Processing…]
Result: None detected.
He chuckled softly. "Good. I was worried I'd gone sentimental."
He gazed down at the quiet city.
Merchants closing shops. Children chasing paper lamps. Cultivators meditating under weak moon Qi, struggling for a drop of enlightenment.
All of them bound by the same fragile balance — rules, hierarchies, sects, heavens.
"Tell me, System," he said, voice low. "Why do people chase power if they know it'll consume them?"
[Answer:] Because weakness consumes faster.
He smiled faintly. "Cold truth. I like that."
[Compliment logged.]
The System's voice was as neutral as ever, yet Zihan could almost hear amusement in its tone — or maybe it was just his mind giving personality to chaos.
"Back on Earth," he said after a moment, "people were the same. They just used different weapons — money, fame, politics. All Qi-less cultivators fighting for meaningless ascension."
[And what did you fight for, then?]
Zihan was silent. The wind rustled his sleeves.
Finally, he said, "Freedom. I was tired of obeying systems I didn't choose."
[Irony Detected.]
You are currently obeying a System.
He grinned. "Touché. But you're mine, aren't you?"
[Ownership status: disputed.]
He laughed quietly. "At least you're honest."
His tone shifted — colder, thoughtful.
"This world runs on rules," he said. "Sects worship balance, the heavens demand obedience. But chaos doesn't ask permission. It creates its own laws."
[Conclusion:] Host intends to create new order through disorder.
Classification: Founding Intent.
"Exactly. If the world's power comes from structured Qi…" he lifted a hand, silver light crackling faintly through his palm, "…then I'll build a system that thrives on unstructured Qi."
[Prototype recognized.]
[Name Suggestion:] 'The Path of Infinite Fracture.'
He snorted. "Sounds edgy. I like it."
He turned his head slightly, as if speaking to someone unseen beside him.
"System, tell me — in mortal terms, what's my current level?"
[Mortal Standard Assessment:]
Cultivation: Body refinement– Stage 1
Combat Power: Equivalent to an average Foundation Establishment cultivator (suppressed)
Potential Threat: 'Do not provoke' class
"Below average and terrifying," Zihan mused. "My favorite combination."
[Goal Projection:]
Within 10 years, Host can surpass mortal limits.
Within 100 years, redefine them.
He smirked. "I don't plan to wait that long."
[Warning:] Impatience detected.
Side effects include death, glory, and inconvenient plot twists.
"Noted."
He looked up again at the moon, his expression unreadable.
"I'll need information," he said quietly. "Sect politics, spiritual geography, heavenly laws — everything. If I want to survive… no, if I want to rule, I'll need to know how the game is played before I break the board."
[Request logged.]
Compiling data on Mortal Realm structures… estimated completion: dawn.
"Good. While you work," he said, turning to go, "I'll cultivate. Villains can't be weak ."
[Correction:] You already possess above-average power among people your age.
Work harder.
He grinned. "Was that a compliment, or are you buttering me up before killing me later?"
[Undecided.]
He chuckled as he walked toward his bed, it had the most concentrated spiritual qi as it was the eyes of the formation in his room,the faint hum of Chaotic Qi trailedbehind like a heartbeat from another universe.
Even with chaotic qi sealed inside him spiritual chi was still the helpful at this level. Even a mosquito is meat .
Behind the blindfold, his mismatched eyes flickered once — red and blue intertwining, burning with quiet amusement.
"Let's make this world interesting," he whispered.
[Affirmative.]
Initiating long-term objective: Subvert Heaven.