As he found himself in this new world of cultivation, Desmond's thoughts raced. He marveled at the sensation of having a physical body and the ability to speak, a stark contrast to his previous reincarnation.
Casting his eyes around the room, he took in his surroundings, realizing that he lay on a bed, propped against the headboard, his right hand clutching a golden pot resembling a gourd, emanating a sweet fragrance.
Curiosity piqued, he raised the pot to his nose and sniffed, instantly recognizing the scent. "Is this wine?" he pondered, setting aside the intriguing question for the time being.
Instead, he turned his attention to the attire he wore. "Why am I clad in this thin, long slave robe?" he questioned, perplexed by the unfamiliar garb.
Beyond the confines of the room, the moon cast its shimmering silver light, bathing the surroundings in an ethereal glow. The room itself exuded opulence, adorned with lavish furniture.
Alongside a painting of a man riding a sword, Desmond's gaze fell upon a striking image of a meditating woman, nude and serene, and an unexpected artwork of an Asian dragon sculpture gracefully embedded in the bamboo ceiling.
A gossamer white curtain enveloped the bed, while soft orange light emanated from lanterns stationed at each corner of the room. The overall aesthetic suggested that this space was intended for intimate encounters.
"Will you not provide me with an explanation for this perplexing situation?" Desmond addressed the system responsible for his arrival in this cultivation world, his frustration evident.
He now inhabited the body of another man, who had seemingly been relishing his life, awaiting a partner—a life cut short before pleasure could be indulged, with Desmond now taking his place.
[Integrating the memories of the previous owner with the host's mind…]
[Integration complete!]
[Processing to merge the soul of the previous owner with the host's soul…]
[Merging Complete!]
Meanwhile, Desmond, still processing the influx of strange memories, endeavored to adapt to his present circumstances. He had been transmigrated into a Cultivation World, where people harnessed Qi as their primary source of supernatural power.
The inhabitants wielded abilities that allowed them to shatter mountains, transform into legendary beasts, fly through the air, and even resurrect the deceased.
Within this world, a hierarchical system known as 'The Cultivation Realm' governed the levels of power individuals could attain.
From his memories, Desmond knew that each realm elevated a person's power to the next tier, commencing with the Qi Condensation Realm and culminating in the esteemed Celestial Immortal Realm.
Beyond Celestial Immortal, however, lay an enigmatic realm yet to be unraveled.
Realms beneath the Mahayana realm comprised four stages or sub-realms: Early-Stage, Middle-Stage, Late-Stage, and Peak-Stage.
The realms above Mahayana also featured three sub-realms, mirroring the structure below but omitting the Late-Stage, transitioning directly to the Peak-Stage.
Strength correlated with higher realms.
Simultaneously, the world itself was divided into three realms: The Devil Realm, The Upper Realm, and The Lower Realm.
Desmond currently found himself in the Mortanven Continent, a part of the Lower Realm, specifically Xi Ning province, within the confines of a building belonging to the Thousand Illusionary Sect.
"And this body belonged to Xia Wei, the Young Master of the Xia Family—the heir apparent and the most infamous scion in the annals of Xia Family history,"
Desmond, now assuming the identity of Xia Wei, murmured with a mixture of exasperation and disappointment. He shook his head, massaging his temples with a furrowed brow before releasing a resigned sigh.
Lifting his gaze to the moon above, its radiant beams reflecting in his magenta slit pupils, Xia Wei's long yellowish-brown locks danced in the night breeze.
His countenance hardened, and with determined authority, he addressed an unseen individual. "Old Ping," he commanded in a gravelly tone.
A swift and silent presence darted into the room, swiftly dropping to a half-kneel before Xia Wei, head bowed in deference. With an air of enthusiasm, the shadowy figure responded, "Yes, Young Master!"
Before him knelt Xia Ping, an elderly man of frail appearance, towering over 180cm in height. He donned a resplendent, dark robe adorned with a majestic white dragon intricately woven into the front Hanfu.
While his outward appearance seemed unassuming, a transparent screen hovering in his view hinted at his true capabilities.
[Name: Xia Ping
Age: ???
Cultivation Base: Middle-Stage of Immortal Realm (Suppressed)]
"Remain close to me, for I sense that something is amiss," Xia Wei instructed, his voice laced with caution.
As he spoke, the intoxicating floral aroma from the wine gourd in his hand permeated the room, filling the air. A sudden heaviness settled upon his head, causing the image of the colossal moon to split into two.
Struggling to keep his eyes open, Xia Wei managed to convey his concerns to his guardian. Sensing a faint force pulling at his consciousness, dragging him toward eternal darkness, he knew he had to act swiftly.
Xia Ping, bewildered by his master's command, raised an eyebrow and discreetly glanced at Xia Wei's face. For the first time, he noticed a profound calmness within his young master's eyes, reflecting the moon's ethereal glow.
It was a stark departure from his previous self, who often wore a repulsive grin and displayed a lack of interest in the world of cultivation.
Momentarily taken aback, Xia Ping froze in place. It was only when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder that he snapped back to reality, prompting him to respond with a touch of respect in his voice,
"Yes, Young Master! I shall conceal myself on the roof, prepared for any eventuality."
In a matter of seconds, Xia Ping's body dissolved into thin air, blending seamlessly with the shadows on the bamboo roof, leaving no trace of his presence behind.
The dust particles settled in the space previously occupied by Xia Ping, as if erasing any evidence of his existence.