In the encompassing darkness, a voice pierced the silence, "Where am I?" Disoriented, he scanned the obsidian surroundings, searching in vain for any semblance of familiarity.
Recollections emerged like scattered puzzle pieces: an evening tainted with the bittersweet taste of alcohol shared among friends, laughter mingled with jovial camaraderie.
Yet, amidst the revelry, a searing revelation surfaced—his girlfriend's unfaithfulness, a betrayal that shattered the fragile sanctuary of trust he had painstakingly built.
He was an orphan and so he loved his girlfriend more than his own life.
He would have wished to build a family of his own, have children and grow old together with his girlfriend but alas, he was thrown away for a rich young master in the city.
Life can sometimes play a cruel joke unto a few hapless souls. The events afterward blurred into a whirlwind of emotions and actions drowned in intoxication.
The bitter taste of regret mingled with the remnants of vomit, a stark reminder of the excesses of the night.
He had gathered his companions, seeking solace in shared merriment, yet found himself ensnared within the grip of inebriation.
Now, in the sobering emptiness, he grappled with the aftermath. The realization dawned that his decision, fueled by hurt and anger, had led him to this unfamiliar abyss.
Reflection painted his actions in stark hues of recklessness—a futile attempt to numb the sharp edges of betrayal, only to plunge deeper into the abyss of his own making.
He died as a result of his folly. Drinking too much in too short a time was simply not advisable or healthy to any living thing.
Amidst the uncertain void, a voice, disoriented and bewildered, shattered the silence once more, exclaiming, "Where the f*ck am I?"
Yet again, the darkness offered no tangible response, leaving him engulfed in an eerie stillness that seemed to mock his disoriented state.
A sudden, searing shout tore through his consciousness, a cacophony of pain that rocked his very being. In its wake surged an overwhelming tide of memories, flooding into his mind like a torrential downpour.
Faces, places, and emotions collided, stitching together an unfamiliar tapestry of existence. As the disarray settled, he found himself grappling with a startling revelation.
"F*ck me! Have I transmigrated into a xianxia world?!" His disbelief resonated through the empty expanse as he gingerly rubbed his aching temples.
The very notion was preposterous, something straight out of the fantastical tales he'd read, never fathoming it could become his reality.
Despite the initial shock, a spark of recognition flickered within him. Transmigrators, protagonists of these tales, often wielded unique abilities or acquired companions in the form of enigmatic systems.
With a mix of anxiety and burgeoning excitement, he called out, "System! Where are you?! Come out!"
Hope mingled with trepidation as he anticipated the advent of this purported guide.
The lore he remembered suggested that individuals like him possessed uncanny advantages, often referred to as "golden fingers," bestowing upon them the power to shape their destiny in these mystical realms.
The realization slowly settled in—a chance to rewrite his narrative, to seize the opportunities this new existence offered.
Dreams of grandeur and conquest danced within his mind—a desire to conquer all adversities, ascend to unparalleled heights, and, perhaps, carve out his own path to a contented existence in this enchanting world of xianxia.
The prospect of adventure and untold potential spurred him on, infusing his heart with a newfound determination to chart a course toward an extraordinary destiny.
"DING!"
"System binding…"
"Congratulations, host! You have been granted the op Supreme Dual Cultivation System! Kindly summon the system interface for a comprehensive understanding," echoed a mellifluous voice, resonating with an air of mature authority that soothed our protagonist's perplexed mind.
"Thank you, system! Your generosity knows no bounds! Could you shed some light on the benefactor responsible for giving such an overpowered system upon transmigrators all over the world?" Our poor protagonist, fueled by an insatiable curiosity derived from a past life steeped in the love of literature and web novels alike, eagerly pursued the origins of these mysterious systems.
"I am an emissary of the god of the multiverse," the system responded with an air of unwavering certainty.
"And this god—what is their identity? Do they have a name?" our protagonist pressed, yearning for deeper insight. Yet, much to his dismay, the response echoed with frustrating familiarity.
"He is the god of the multiverse," the system reiterated, casting a shadow of ambiguity over the inquiry.
"Tsk. Tsk. It seems like I have a joker system in my hand," our poor mc sighed, resigning himself to the elusive nature of his quest for answers.
Abandoning this pursuit momentarily, he turned his attention to practical matters, summoning forth his golden finger with a mere mental command.
"Avada Kedavra!" he mentally exclaimed, and true to his command, the system's cheat interface unfolded seamlessly, presenting an array of tantalizing options and capabilities waiting to be explored within this newfound realm of possibilities.
* * *
Name: Simon Sawyer, Finley Stonewall
Cultivation: Mortal
System Points: 1,000
System Shop
System Mission
* * *
The system, simple by comparison to others, surprisingly resonated with our protagonist. It responded to his touch like magic, unveiling a plethora of items when he accessed the system shop.
Potions, formations, artifacts, pills—all manner of cultivation treasures sprawled before him. Yet, the most coveted items, the truly powerful ones, bore a price that seemed insurmountable.
Eternal Timekeeper's Hourglass – 1,000,000 shop points
Primordial Chaos Mantra – 1,000,000 shop points
Immortal Dao Heart – 1,000,000 shop points
.
..
...
And the list extended endlessly.
"Damn it! If only I had 1,000,000 shop points to start with," our protagonist lamented. The allure of these incredible items taunted him, leaving him feeling destitute, despite his newfound interface.
"Let's see what else this system offers," he muttered, navigating to the system missions, intrigued by the prospect. What greeted him was unexpected—a directive that seemed ludicrously simple:
* * *
Get yourself a woman, marry her, and you will receive a cultivation base of qi gathering realm peak stage!
* * *
His laughter echoed through the room in disbelief. Rubbing his eyes in disbelief only confirmed the stark message remained unchanged. It was a solitary instruction, yet it held immeasurable significance.
You see, in the city, he was deemed worthless, cursed with blocked veins that rendered him incapable of cultivating even the slightest trace of spiritual essence.
"From now on, I will be the master of my destiny," he declared, rising with a newfound determination. However, his elation was short-lived.
A large mirror caught his gaze, reflecting an image caused by the moonlight's advent that shattered his hopes—a fat, unattractive young man in his early twenties. It was a shock to behold indeed.
"Damn it," our poor mc murmured in dismay. He failed to recall this very important aspect of Finley Stonewall's character.