The woodshed smelled of wet mold and mouse droppings. To a normal disciple, it was a hovel. To Jiang Chen, it was the first place in ten years that didn't smell like a latrine.
He sat on a pile of damp straw, the three stolen Spirit Stones glowing in his lap like radioactive embers.
"Cultivation," he whispered. The word felt heavy in his mouth.
In the stories, this was elegant. You sat in a lotus position, breathed in the universe, and gently guided the energy into your core. It was art.
[Instruction: Do not meditate.]
[Host meridians are clogged with filth. Traditional absorption efficiency: 12%.]
[System Method: Direct Consumption.]
[Task: Swallow the stones.]
Jiang Chen stared at the text. "Eat them? They're rocks. They'll shred my insides."
[Correction: Matter will be liquefied upon ingestion. Trust the process.]
Trust.
Jiang Chen looked at the blue screen. It had saved him from the fall. It had moved his arm to kill the rat. It had broken Liu Ming's shoulder.
"Fine," Jiang Chen breathed, his hands shaking. "I trust you."
He picked up the first stone. It was cold, jagged, and heavy. He tilted his head back and dropped it onto his tongue. It tasted like ozone and battery acid.
Gulp.
He expected it to sit in his stomach like a lead weight. Instead, the moment it hit his throat, it detonated.
It wasn't heat. It was lava.
"Ghhk—"
He clutched his throat, his eyes bulging. The sensation rushed down his esophagus, burning a trail through his chest. It felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of the sun.
Eat, the command pulsed in his brain.
He forced the second one down. Then the third.
His body seized. His back arched off the straw, his spine cracking. The energy didn't flow gently; it roared through his veins, tearing through the sludge in his meridians like a flash flood destroying a dam.
[Energy Overload.]
[Initiating "Forced Integration."]
[Host Consciousness: Deactivating.]
The woodshed collapsed into a pinprick of white light. Jiang Chen hit the straw, dead to the world.
POV SHIFT: The Black Ocean
The woodshed was gone. The pain was gone.
There was only water.
This was the Dantian—the Sea of Consciousness. For a normal human, this place should be a misty, white pond. Serene. Empty.
This place was not white.
It was an endless ocean of black, oily water, still as glass. Above, there was no sky, only a heavy, suffocating purple fog that swirled with silent lightning.
In the center of the black ocean, the water broke.
Something rose.
It was massive. Titanic. If Jiang Chen's soul was a rowboat, this thing was a continent.
A head, armored in scales as black as a dead star, broke the surface. Each scale was the size of a shield, etched with runes that bled a dying, crimson light. One of its massive horns was shattered—a jagged stump left by a war that had erased galaxies.
The Serpent. The False God.
Its body was coiled tightly around a tiny, flickering white flame floating in the air. That flame was Jiang Chen. It looked pathetic, fragile, shivering in the cold wind of the Serpent's breath.
The Serpent opened its eyes.
They were vertical slits of molten gold, burning with an intelligence that was ancient, weary, and infinitely cruel.
It looked at the tiny soul-flame. The flame was dreaming—dreaming of standing on a mountain peak, wearing golden robes, laughing as Liu Ming bowed to him.
"Dream, little worm," the Serpent thought. It didn't speak in words; it spoke in tremors that shook the black water. "Dream of kings. Dream of power. It makes the soul taste better."
The Serpent uncoiled slightly. A spiderweb of golden cracks appeared on its black scales. It was wounded. Broken. The Heavenly Tribulation had nearly unmade it.
It looked up. The energy from the three Spirit Stones was drifting down into the void like glowing motes of dust.
The Serpent opened its maw and inhaled.
The energy—which Jiang Chen thought was for him—vanished into the beast's throat.
"Trash," the Serpent hissed, disappointed. "Garbage energy. Barely enough to keep my eyes open."
It turned its golden gaze to the "System Interface" floating in the void. It wasn't a computer. It was a complex, weaving spell formation, a glamour constructed to look like something the human would understand.
It reviewed the logs.
Log: Host spared the target 'Liu Ming'.
The black water boiled.
"Mercy," the Serpent spat the concept like a curse. "He has the teeth of a predator, but the heart of a sheep."
It lowered its massive head, bringing its snout inches from Jiang Chen's sleeping soul.
"I do not have time for your morality, vessel. Every second I spend in this broken realm, I bleed. I need oceans of blood. I need mountains of spirit flesh. And you... you hesitate to kill a drunkard?"
Its forked tongue flicked out, tasting the fear radiating from the dream.
"Enjoy your 'System,' Jiang Chen. Level up. Build your foundation."
The Serpent's lips curled back, revealing rows of fangs that dripped with a venom capable of melting reality.
"Build it well. You are not building a temple for yourself. You are building a cocoon for Me."
It glanced at the counter on the spell formation.
[Sync Rate: 0.1%]
"Too slow," the Serpent grumbled. "I must accelerate the corruption."
It began to sink back into the oil-black water. Its time was up. It needed to hibernate.
As the surface closed over its head, a final thought echoed through the void, cold and absolute.
"Sleep well, Host #449. When you wake up... try to be a little less Human."
Scene Return: The Woodshed
Jiang Chen gasped, bolting upright.
He was drenched in cold sweat. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"What..." He clutched his chest, gasping for air. "What was that?"
He had a nightmare. He couldn't remember the face, but he remembered the feeling. The feeling of being suspended over a mouth the size of the world. The feeling of being... food.
He shook his head, slapping his cheeks.
"Just a dream," he muttered, his voice trembling. "Side effect of the breakthrough."
He looked at his hands.
They didn't look like his hands. The skin was pale, tighter, pulled taut over the muscle. A faint, white mist swirled around his fingers.
Qi.
He clenched his fist. The air popped audibly.
He felt light. Dangerous. The hunger in his gut was gone, replaced by a hum of power that vibrated in his marrow.
[Notification: Breakthrough Successful.]
[Current Cultivation: Qi Condensation - Layer 1.]
[Talent Unlocked: Iron Skin (Passive).]
Jiang Chen grinned. The nightmare evaporated. The blue screen was his friend. His savior.
"Layer 1," he laughed, the sound wet and jagged. "I'm a cultivator. I'm really a cultivator!"
He stood up and kicked the door of the woodshed open. The wood splintered effortlessly. The morning sun hit his face, blinding and warm.
"Senior Disciple Wang," Jiang Chen whispered, his eyes gleaming with a light that wasn't entirely his own. "I'm coming for you."
Deep in his mind, buried beneath layers of excitement, a golden eye closed.