Lin Fan lay on his uncomfortable straw mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of his worn-out room. The wood smelled damp and rotten, a scent he had become used to. Outside, the loud laughter of his fellow outer disciples echoed through the thin walls. They were likely gathered around a small fire, sharing cheap wine and bragging about their slight progress in the Qi Condensation realm.
He was Lin Fan, an orphan taken in by the Falling Star Sect. In a place where talent and connections mattered most, he had neither. He was at the very bottom of the hierarchy. His cultivation was stuck at the Second Layer of Qi Condensation, a level most disciples surpassed in their first year. He had been trapped there for three years.
Each day was a dull cycle of humiliation. He was given the hardest chores: cleaning the latrines, working in the fields with the weakest spiritual energy, and serving as a living target for the more talented disciples. They would "spar" with him, their punches and kicks leaving him bruised and sore, all under the pretense of "helping him improve." Their true aim was to let out their own frustrations on someone who couldn't fight back.
Tonight was no different. Senior Brother Zhang, a burly youth at the Fourth Layer, had decided to "test" a new kick technique on him. The result was a sharp pain in his ribs that made every breath feel like a struggle. He had no pills or salves. He could only lie there and wait for his weak body to heal on its own.
"Why?" he whispered to the empty room, tears of despair stinging his eyes. "Why is the world so unfair?"
He had tried so hard. He meditated until his legs went numb and practiced the sect's basic fist forms until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. But it didn't help. His skills were simply too poor. The spiritual energy around him seemed to slip through his fingers like water.
He closed his eyes, the laughter outside grating on his nerves. He wished he could just vanish. He wished for a miracle, for a chance, for anything that could change his miserable fate. It was a foolish wish, one he had made countless times before. And, like always, nothing happened.
He was about to drift into a restless sleep when a voice resonated in his mind.
[Treasure Devourer System at your service. Do you wish to bind?]
Lin Fan's eyes flew open. He sat up abruptly, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. He scanned the dark room. It was empty. The window was barred, and the door was shut. There was no one there.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice shaky. "Who's playing tricks on me?"
This had to be a joke. It was probably Senior Brother Zhang and his friends, using some cheap technique to mock him. They likely thought it was funny to give the sect's biggest loser a bit of false hope before crushing it. The thought filled him with anger.
"Stop it!" he shouted. "I know you're out there!"
Silence
The laughter outside faded away. He could only hear his own ragged breathing. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe the pain and desperation had finally driven him mad. He slumped back onto the mattress, his head pounding.
Then the voice returned, a voice that seemed to carry the weight of mountains.
[I am a supreme artifact, created by a being from a dimension beyond your understanding. I was sent to this world to find a destined one, a vessel of great fate. Do you wish to bind?]
Before his eyes, a translucent interface appeared, glowing words hanging in the air. At the bottom, a countdown began.
[30… 29… 28…]
Lin Fan stared, his mouth open. This was no joke. No outer disciple, not even an elder of the Falling Star Sect, could create an illusion this real. The voice resonated deep within him, mixing awe and fear. A supreme being? Another dimension? A destined one?
Him? Lin Fan, the loser, the orphan, the training dummy? A vessel of great fate? It was absurd. It was impossible. But the countdown was real, the golden numbers ticking down steadily.
[20… 19… 18…]
His mind was a storm of confusion and fear. What if it was a trap? What if it was a demonic artifact that would consume his soul? But what did he have to lose? His life was already a nightmare. His soul was probably worth less than the straw in his mattress. What was the alternative? To keep living like this? To be bullied and beaten until he died, a forgotten speck of dust in a world that didn't care?
[10… 9… 8…]
This was it. This was the miracle he had prayed for. It was frightening, sure, but it was a chance. It was the only chance he might ever get. The fear in his heart was drowned by a tide of desperate hope.
[5… 4… 3…]
"Yes!" he cried, his voice filled with emotion. "I accept! I'll bind with you!"
[2… 1… 0…]
[Choice confirmed. Binding process initiated.]
A golden light surged from the interface, flooding into his body. It felt like being immersed in a hot spring. The pain in his ribs vanished instantly. The fatigue in his bones faded away. He felt a deep connection forming in his soul, a link to something ancient. The interface and countdown disappeared, leaving only the commanding voice in his mind.
[Binding successful. Welcome, Host.]
Lin Fan lay panting on his mattress, his body trembling with pure joy. It was real. It was all real. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't crazy.
He wanted to laugh, to shout, to run outside and share his newfound fate with everyone. But he held back. He had to be careful. This was his secret, his greatest treasure. He couldn't let anyone know.
After a few minutes of joyful breathing, he managed to calm his racing heart enough to think. His mind raced through stories of ancestral spirits and divine blessings. Was this his destined opportunity?
He focused his thoughts inward, speaking to the presence in his mind with a mix of respect and caution. "Senior? Spirit? What... what are you?"
A calm voice echoed in his mind. [I am an endowment bound to your soul.]
An endowment. A gift. The word resonated with him. "Then what should I call you, honored endowment?" he asked, his mental voice filled with respect.
The voice responded immediately. [You can call me System.]
The word was unfamiliar, something he had never heard before. System. It felt strange yet carried a sense of profound order.
"Alright... System," Lin Fan said, trying the word out. A small smile crossed his face. "What is your purpose? What can you do for me?"
The voice answered right away, [I exist for two purposes: to find, and to devour.]
"Find? Devour?" Lin Fan asked, confused.
[My first function is Treasure Sense. I can give you a sixth sense for locating valuable spiritual herbs, ores, and artifacts. The stronger the treasure, the stronger the pull you will feel.]
A treasure-finding ability? In the impoverished Falling Star Sect, resources were everything. A single spirit grass could buy a month's worth of cultivation pills. This was a miraculous ability.
"And the second function?" he asked, his heart racing with excitement.
[My second function is Devour. I can consume any spiritual treasure you find and turn its essence directly into pure spiritual energy for your cultivation.]
He understood the implications immediately. He had seen what happened when disciples tried to consume spiritual herbs that were too advanced for them. Their meridians ruptured, their bodies exploded. It was a dangerous process. But this system… it could bypass all that. It could transform treasures directly into power. It was the direct path to success.