The Mortal 72 Refinements Realm, a crucible of cultivation, stood as a formidable challenge, dividing its trials into four phases. Each phase comprised nine minor realms, forming the foundation of a cultivator's power:
Phase 1: Skin Refinement Minor Realm (2)
Phase 2: Vein Refinement Minor Realm (2)
Phase 3: Bone and Marrow Refinement Minor Realm (2)
Phase 4: Blood Refinement Minor Realm (3)
Upon reaching the Blood Refinement Minor Realm, cultivators could unleash their power outside their body, wreaking devastation within a certain range. However, normal usage allowed them to reach the limit range dictated by their talents.
Primal talents, blessed with innate ability, could transcend to the next major realm after completing the first phase. Yet, these gifted individuals strove for excellence, pushing beyond the initial threshold to unlock their full potential.
Each additional phase exponentially increased the difficulty, elevating their upper limit. The average primal talent genius could complete two phases, unlocking:
36 meters of power unleashed outside their body
Crushing might within 18 meters
Primal talents enjoyed a unique advantage: each phase increased their power range by 18 meters. In contrast:
Void Grade talents faced a halved range decrease, capping their limit at 36 meters (4 phases)
Heaven Grade geniuses had a fixed range of 18 meters (4 phases)
Average geniuses reached the fourth phase, but exceptional ones were constrained by their talents
To surpass Heaven Grade geniuses, top cultivators relied on determination and effort, venturing further down the cultivation path. However, this journey brought challenges:
Competition for resources
Fierce battles for supremacy
Unrelenting pressure to innovate
The System's rankings reflected these hierarchies:
Primal Talents: 36 meters limit, 18 meters full power (2 phases)
Void Grade: 36 meters limit, 18 meters full power (4 phases)
Heaven Grade: 18 meters limit, 9 meters full power (4 phases)
As cultivators ascended the Mortal 72 Refinements Realm, their abilities would be tested, and their limits pushed.
Back in the solitude of his room, the young man took a deep breath, seeking clarity on his precarious situation. The dimly lit space seemed to close in around him as he gazed at the System panel, his voice echoing off the walls.
"System," he called out, desperation creeping into his tone.
The familiar screen materialized:
[Name: None]
[Lifespan: 2 days 25 hours]
[Cultivation Techniques: None]
[Skill: None]
[Cultivation Level: None]
Disappointment washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf him. No additional information, no guidance. The silence was deafening.
"System, help!" he urged, frustration boiling over into his voice, his fists clenched in anguish.
The panel remained unyielding, its silence a stark reminder of his isolation.
His mind raced with questions. Was this System different from those in the novels? Why the secrecy? Fear began to creep in, its icy tendrils wrapping around his heart.
He tried again, hoping against hope:
"System, display options."
"System, provide tutorials."
"System, show missions."
Only silence replied, deepening his despair.
Isolation settled in, like a shroud of darkness, suffocating him.
With determination, he refocused on the available information. Cultivation techniques would track progress, skills like dagger and archery would be monitored, and cultivation level would reflect his realm.
Comfortable, yet apprehensive, he delved into Doctor Elara's cultivation techniques. The intricate steps danced before his eyes, confusing and overwhelming. Each page turned revealed more complexity, more mystery.
An hour passed, the words blurring together. He finished the book, his mind reeling.
Seeking clarity, he read the skill books for comparison, searching for answers. Dagger and archery techniques seemed straightforward, but how did they integrate with the cultivation method?
The System panel reappeared, its prompt jolting him:
"[Consume 12 hours of lifespan to gain entry into cultivation technique, dagger, and archery skills?]"
No other choice remained. He accepted the System's offer, his heart heavy with trepidation. The cost seemed steep, but necessary for survival.
But the lifespan consumed shocked him:
36 hours
Not 12.
1 day 21 hours remained.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him, his breath catching in his throat like a vice. His eyes widened in horror as the reality set in. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in, suffocating him.
His mind reeled:
How could he afford to lose so much time?
What lay ahead?
Calm, he reassessed, forcing rational thought to prevail. Panic would not save him; clarity would.
The cultivation technique and skills section of the panel now displayed:
[Cultivation Techniques: Echoes of the Heart (Beginner)]
[Skill: Dagger (Beginner), Archery (Beginner)]
Progress, though costly.
He steeled himself, resolve hardening like steel forged in fire. Thirty-six hours gone, but knowledge gained. The weight of his decision hung heavy, like a pact made with the devil themselves.
With newfound determination, he focused on the cultivation technique. Echoes of the Heart's intricacies, once daunting, now seemed simple, thanks to the knowledge gained. But at what cost?
Breathing deeply, he centered himself, finding balance within. As he delved deeper into the technique, the world outside receded, leaving only the thrum of his heartbeat and the whisper of ancient knowledge.
Unconsciously, he began to circulate the technique, his body responding to the newfound understanding. Time lost meaning. Only cultivation mattered.
The room transformed into a sanctuary, a haven for growth. His will to survive burned brighter with each passing moment.
The clock ticked on, indifferent to his fate.
1 day 20 hours remained.
Still, he cultivated.
Every breath.
Every heartbeat.
Every moment.
Eight hours passed in meditative silence.
Then, a knock on the door shattered the stillness.
A servant entered, bearing steaming hot water.
"For your bath, sir," the servant said, setting down the water.
He received the water, grateful for the interruption.
As he bathed, the warm water enveloped him, soothing his weary muscles. He relaxed, letting go of the tension that had gripped him for so long. With a deep exhale, he released a breath he'd unknowingly held, as if his body had been waiting for permission to let go.
In that instant, his body responded.
Energy surged, coursing through his veins like a river unleashed.
His skin tingled, alive with newfound sensitivity.
He broke through to the Skin Refinement Minor Realm of the First Phase.
A substantial amount of impurities, like gooey tendrils, released from his skin.
The sensation was both revolting and exhilarating.
Purification.
Renewal.
His eyes gleamed with determination, burning brighter than the candle flames that lit the room.
Progress, no matter the cost.
The clock ticked on, its rhythmic beat a reminder of the fleeting nature of time.
1 day, 12 hours remained.
But he was no longer the same.
He was stronger.
His resolve hardened.
The breakthrough had awakened something within him.
A sense of purpose.
A will to survive.
As he emerged from the bath, refreshed and renewed, he felt the weight of his decision.
Thirty-six hours of lifespan consumed.
But in return, he had gained something invaluable.
A glimpse of his potential.
A taste of power.
The world outside seemed different now.
Less daunting.
More conquerable.
With each passing moment, his determination grew, burning brighter like a beacon in the darkness. He would continue to cultivate, to refine his body, to temper his spirit. The clock ticked on, its rhythmic beat a reminder of the fleeting nature of time. But he was no longer bound by its constraints. He was free.
Free to forge his own path.
Free to defy fate.
And so, he began anew, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
But then, a reminder from the System jolted him back to reality.
The panel materialized before him, its display a stark contrast to his newfound resolve:
[Breakthrough Achieved!]
«Lifespan Boost: 1825 days»
«New Lifespan: 5 years, 1 day, 11 hours, 20 minutes»
The numbers danced before his eyes, a cruel reminder of his mortality.
The appearance of the panel somehow drained the determination he was exuding a moment ago, like it was a dream.
He collapsed onto the bathtub, the cool ceramic a shock against his skin.
Tears streamed down his face as the emotions he'd suppressed for so long burst forth.
Desperation, fear, relief – it all suffocated him.
The escape from the forest, the struggle to survive, the weight of his decisions.
Memories of his past life flooded his mind, each recollection a piercing arrow to the heart.
Family.
Friends.
Loved ones.
Their faces, etched in his memory like fine art.
Their laughter, a bittersweet melody.
Their tears, a reminder of the pain he'd left behind.
He wept for what he'd lost.
For the life he'd left unfinished.
For the loved ones he'd never see again.
Transmigration, once a blessing, now felt like a curse.
A second chance, yet a constant reminder of his mortality.
The System's panel, once a guide, now seemed heartless.
Its calculations, devoid of emotion.
Cold.
Impersonal.
As he cried, the tension drained from his body, like the ebbing tide.
Exhaustion claimed him, a heavy blanket that suffocated his senses.
He lay there, spent, the panel's display still burning in his mind:
Five years.
A gift, or a reminder of his finite existence?
Time ticked on, indifferent to his fate.
Unrelenting.
Uncaring.
But in this moment, he let the tears flow, releasing the burden he'd carried for so long.
In this moment, vulnerability was his only solace.
The darkness closed in, a comforting shroud.
A shield from the world's cruelty.
And he wept.
For himself.
For his past.
For his uncertain future.
Tears streamed down his face, a river of sorrow.
His body shook, wracked by sobs.
His heart broke, shattered into a million pieces.
Yet, in this shattered state, he found a glimmer of peace.
A peace that came from embracing his vulnerability.
From acknowledging his pain.
As the tears slowed, he lay still, spent.
The darkness cradled him, a gentle mother.
And in its depths, he found solace.
A fleeting sense of calm.
A respite from the storm that raged within, and in that moment he fell asleep in the bathtub