The room was still.
Not the same suffocating stillness that had followed the system's declaration, but a quieter one—heavier, weighted with exhaustion rather than panic. Ling Xuan remained standing for a long moment after the interface faded, his fists clenched, shoulders tense, as if his body hadn't yet accepted that there was nothing left to argue with.
The task existed.
The rules were set.
Whether he liked it or not, the system had already placed him on the board.
Ling Xuan exhaled slowly and turned back toward the bed. His legs felt strangely unsteady now, the adrenaline that had carried him through fear and rage finally draining away. He sat down, the thin mattress sinking beneath him, and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
For the first time since awakening, he allowed himself to simply sit.
Think.
"Panicking won't change anything," he murmured to himself. "I need information."
That had always been his approach in the game. Before making any move, before touching any system option, he gathered data. Ignorance was punished far more harshly than caution.
His gaze lifted.
"System," he said quietly.
The air shimmered.
The interface appeared again, calm and infuriatingly obedient.
[Awaiting command, Host.]
Ling Xuan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Open my profile."
There was no dramatic fanfare. No sound effect. The screen simply shifted, rearranging itself into a clean, vertical display filled with neatly aligned information.
At the top:
[Host Profile]
Ling Xuan straightened unconsciously as he began to read.
---
Name: Ling Xuan
Age: 15
Identity Status: Transmigrated
World Layer: Mortal Veil
---
His lips pressed together.
Fifteen.
He had expected it, but seeing it written so plainly still sent a faint ripple of discomfort through him. His mind was far older than this body, his experiences layered with another life entirely. And yet, to the world—and to the system—he was a teenager standing at the very bottom of a cultivation hierarchy.
He continued.
---
Cultivation Realm: Veil Shatter Realm
Stage: Early
---
Ling Xuan nodded slightly.
As expected.
Veil Shatter was the first true step beyond mortality. Most cultivators spent years stuck here, struggling to stabilize their bodies and senses before even touching higher realms. At this level, he was fragile—easily killed by anyone with real experience.
But he already knew this.
His eyes moved downward.
---
Physique: Gift (Unclaimed)
Bloodline: Locked
Status: Dormant
---
Ling Xuan's gaze lingered on the word Locked.
Bloodline.
In the game, bloodlines were not cosmetic. They were fate-defining. Some granted elemental affinities. Others warped the laws of reality around their holders. Locked bloodlines were rare—and dangerous. They tended to awaken under extreme conditions, often at the worst possible moment.
"So you're hiding that from me too," he murmured.
The system did not respond.
His attention shifted.
---
Affection Points (AP): 0
Conquered Targets: 0 / ???
Shop: Locked
---
He snorted softly.
"Of course."
No shortcuts.
No mercy.
Ling Xuan continued reading, his expression growing more serious with each line. There were sections detailing resistance values, base perception, spiritual sensitivity—numbers that meant little on their own, but painted a clear picture when taken together.
This body was not weak.
It was unfinished.
Perfectly balanced. Perfectly empty.
A foundation waiting to be built upon.
His eyes drifted back upward, settling on the one section that seemed to glow faintly brighter than the rest.
---
Physique: Eternal Origin (Unclaimed)
---
His heartbeat slowed.
There it was.
No longer just a passing system notification or a distant rumor from game files—but a tangible option, waiting patiently for his decision.
Ling Xuan leaned back slightly, staring at the words.
Eternal Origin Physique.
In the game, physiques defined everything. They weren't something you trained into existence—they were the starting point from which all growth flowed. A bad physique could cripple a genius. A divine one could elevate a fool.
And Eternal Origin…
It wasn't in game or anything so it means that the reality is very different from game or no one truly knows about it.
The name sounds strong at least.
A physique said to be compatible with any cultivation path. One that refined itself endlessly, adapting to new energies rather than rejecting them. A body that treated tribulation as nourishment and pressure as fuel.
It was the kind of thing players argued about endlessly, precisely because no one had ever seen it obtained legitimately.
Ling Xuan's fingers curled slowly.
"And you're just… giving it to me," he muttered.
[Correction.]
The system responded at once.
[The Gift was assigned, not granted.]
Ling Xuan smiled faintly. "Right. Because that makes it less suspicious."
The system did not deny it.
He closed his eyes briefly.
He sighed and asked the system, "So why don't you now tell me about it's power or abilities.
[Answering to the host: You have to find that yourself and it's still in growth stage so the physique will also grow with you.]
He was extremely annoyed by the answer but he calmed down. It's no use anyway.
If he claimed it, everything would change.
His body would no longer be ordinary. His presence would shift. Fate would respond. Entities far beyond the Mortal Veil might notice the anomaly forming.
But if he didn't…
He would remain weak.
Vulnerable.
A beautiful side character with no claws.
Ling Xuan opened his eyes again, gaze steady.
"I can't keep running forever," he said quietly.
He knew this moment would come eventually. Better now—before the Queen, before the heroines, before the protagonists began moving in earnest.
He reached out.
Not physically, but mentally—touching the option hovering on the interface.
"Claim," he said.
The response was instantaneous.
[Confirmation Received.]
[Warning: Physique integration is irreversible.]
[Proceed?]
Ling Xuan did not hesitate.
"Yes."
The moment the word left his lips, the screen shattered into fragments of light.
Pain followed.
It was not sudden.
It unfolded.
Ling Xuan gasped as a burning sensation erupted deep within his chest, spreading outward like liquid fire injected directly into his veins. His body arched instinctively, muscles seizing as if struck by lightning.
"—ngh!"
He clenched his teeth, a sharp cry tearing free despite his attempt to suppress it.
The pain wasn't localized. It wasn't something he could point to and endure. It was everywhere at once—his bones, his organs, his blood, his very sense of self.
It felt as if his body was being dismantled piece by piece.
Then rebuilt.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His vision blurred. The room warped, colors smearing into indistinct shapes as his nerves screamed under the strain. Every breath burned. Every heartbeat felt too loud, too strong, pounding against his ribs as if trying to break free.
Ling Xuan collapsed forward, barely managing to brace himself before his hands struck the floor.
His fingers dug into the wooden planks, nails scraping uselessly as waves of agony crashed through him.
"This—this is just the physique?" he rasped.
There was no answer.
The pain intensified.
Something deep inside him shattered—an invisible barrier he hadn't known existed. He felt it break apart, fragments dissolving into raw sensation as a vast, unfamiliar warmth flooded the empty space it left behind.
His bones burned.
Not like fire on the surface—but from within, as if molten metal had replaced marrow. His muscles tore microscopically, then knit themselves back together stronger than before. His organs pulsed, rhythm shifting, recalibrating to a new standard of existence.
Ling Xuan screamed.
The sound echoed briefly in the small room before cutting off as his throat seized, his voice stolen by the overwhelming pressure building in his chest.
His heart thundered.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Everything went white.
---
When consciousness returned, it did so hesitantly.
Ling Xuan floated in darkness, his thoughts distant and unfocused. He was aware of nothing at first—no pain, no sound, no sense of time. Just a vague heaviness, like sinking into deep water.
Slowly, sensation crept back.
Cold against his cheek.
The faint scent of wood and dust.
The subtle rise and fall of his chest.
He groaned softly and opened his eyes.
The room was dim.
Sunlight slanted through the window at a different angle now, softer and lower, painting long shadows across the floor. The city outside sounded different too—quieter, more subdued.
"How long…?" he murmured.
His voice came out hoarse.
Ling Xuan pushed himself upright, surprised by how easily his body responded. There was no lingering pain. No soreness. Instead, he felt… solid. Grounded. As if his body finally fit him properly.
He looked down at his hands.
They looked the same.
And yet, everything about them felt different.
Energy stirred beneath his skin—not wild or unstable, but calm and vast, like a deep ocean waiting beneath a still surface. His breathing was effortless. His heartbeat steady and strong.
He closed his eyes and focused inward.
What he sensed made his breath catch.
His body felt alive in a way it never had before. Every cell seemed aware of the others, working in silent harmony. The flow of energy through him was smooth, unimpeded, endlessly cycling.
Eternal Origin.
Not flashy.
Not explosive.
Perfect.
Ling Xuan exhaled slowly.
"So this is what you gave me," he said quietly.
The system interface appeared once more.
[Physique integration complete.]
[Host unconscious duration: 6 hours.]
Six hours.
He nodded faintly.
Plenty of time for nothing to happen.
Or for everything to happen.
He rose to his feet, testing his balance. His movements were smoother than before, more precise. Even standing still felt different—as if gravity itself acknowledged him more willingly.
Ling Xuan walked to the window and looked out once more at the cultivation world beyond.
Nothing looked different.
And yet, he knew everything was.
He was no longer just a survivor clinging to foreknowledge.
He now had a body capable of bearing the weight of what was to come.
Ling Xuan turned away from the window, his gaze firm.
"Alright," he said softly. "I'm ready."
He gathered the few bronze coins from the table and slipped them into his sleeve. There was nothing else to take. No belongings. No attachments.
Only himself.
As he stepped toward the door, the system spoke one last time.
[Host status updated.]
Ling Xuan did not look back.
He opened the door.
And walked out of the inn, finally prepared to face the world that had already tried to kill him once.