Wen Ran slowly navigated the dimly lit tunnel, each step drawing him deeper into its depths. The air grew cooler, and the faint glow of spirit crystals embedded in the damp rock walls provided just enough light to guide his way. The further he went, the brighter the tunnel seemed to become, yet the sense of familiarity gnawed at him—this place felt known to him, though he couldn't recall why.
Suddenly, the path ahead split into three directions.
Wen Ran stopped, his sharp gaze scanning each tunnel carefully. But no matter how long he stared, each one appeared identical—dimly lit, damp, and stretching into the unknown. His irritation flared as he muttered under his breath.
"Seriously, that girl didn't even explain how to reach her room… Does she expect me to just figure it out myself?" His expression darkened with frustration, but he quickly stilled his mind.
He took a deep breath, letting logic overrule his irritation. "One wrong step leads to another," he murmured, quoting the proverb softly. "I need to choose wisely…"
He relaxed his body, letting his tension melt away as he focused all his attention on his ears. Slowly, he guided his spirit energy toward them, attempting to use a technique he had mastered in his previous life.
At the Spirit Gathering stage, his current cultivation was far from sufficient to perform it with precision. But his vast experience allowed him to adapt, channeling what little spiritual power his body could muster. The technique was crude compared to how it once was, yet it worked—just enough to heighten his senses.
As the spiritual power connected to the world, faint sounds began to filter through—the distant drip of water, the soft hum of energy vibrating through the tunnels. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to give him an edge.
A faint whisper reached Wen Ran's ear, drifting from the direction of the eastern tunnel. The sounds were muffled, like two people deep in conversation, their words too indistinct to decipher. Still, it was enough to give him a clear sense of where to go first.
"Found my targets," he murmured, his gaze narrowing. But a grim realization tempered his resolve. "I need a weapon. Without a sharp blade, this fragile body won't even be able to kill common servants. It's utterly useless…"
Wen Ran slowly made his way in the direction of the sound. After the time it takes to boil a cup of tea, he arrived at a ladder leading upward, ending at an old wooden trapdoor. The muffled conversation above grew louder, sharpening his focus.
Steeling himself, Wen Ran began climbing, careful with each step to avoid creaking the rickety ladder. As he carefully pushed open the trapdoor, a sudden burst of bright light hit his eyes. Yet, he didn't blink, his gaze scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.
He found himself in a dusty room, its air thick with age and mystery. Ancient artifacts filled the space, their presence exuding an aura of forgotten power. A wild smirk crept across Wen Ran's lips. This place seems abandoned… Could it be that the old demon of this family hid this chamber from his kin? So greedy...
His sharp eyes darted around, taking in the details. A massive wooden door stood before him, completely covered in cobwebs—a clear sign that this room had long been untouched.
Well, if nobody needs it anymore, how about I help myself?
As he stepped forward, his gaze landed on a rack filled with neatly arranged weapons—spears, swords, shields, and halberds, all radiating a faint yet sharp aura. Unlike the rest of the room, the rack was pristine, untouched by dust. Wen Ran's smirk deepened. These weapons were no ordinary relics. Their power was undeniable.
One weapon, in particular, caught his attention. A black sword, its surface smooth and devoid of any reflections, radiated an oppressive aura that seemed to demand respect. Wen Ran's sharp instincts told him this blade wasn't just unique—it was formidable.
If I'm not mistaken, he thought, a gleam of excitement in his eyes, this sword must be at least Formation Establishment tier… at least, that's how it worked in my world.
His hand hovered over the blade, the air around it tingling with energy. Wen Ran's smirk turned into a grin. Looks like I've found my partner.
The moment Wen Ran's hand touched the blade, a surge of power washed over him. It wasn't just energy—it felt alive, as though something deep within him had been awakened by the weapon's touch. The connection was instantaneous, a bond forged in an instant, and the oppressive aura radiating from the sword now melded with his own.
The force of it was so intense that it bled through the room, seeping past the walls and doors.
"What is that?" a deep voice murmured from beyond the door.
"I'm not sure," another replied, equally cautious. "But that aura… it feels like it belongs to someone in the Spirit Flow stage."
Spirit Flow? Wen Ran's thoughts raced. What kind of stage is that? Is this world's cultivation system different from mine?
A sinking realization hit him: his knowledge, honed over thousands of years, might not align perfectly with this world's methods. He couldn't rely solely on his past experiences to reclaim his former heights. He would have to adapt.
"Be cautious," one of the voices whispered, their footsteps creeping closer. "If a thief has broken into Elder Fang Tianyu's forbidden room, catching them will earn us a rich reward."
Their hushed conversation carried through the room, and Wen Ran's sharp ears caught every word. He knew he had little time to act.
A wild grin spread across his face, his eyes glinting with a dangerous excitement. He could feel the blade hum in his hand, its power beckoning him to unleash it.
Perfect. This thin body might be weak, but speed is its ally. His gaze sharpened as his plan solidified. This is a heaven-sent chance to test this weapon—and complete my quest.
Without hesitation, Wen Ran slipped into the shadows, his movements swift and precise. He found a pile of old, tattered cloths in the corner of the room and burrowed beneath them, his frail body concealed so well that, at a glance, it seemed as though no one was there. His breathing slowed to a near halt, every muscle in his body taut as he listened intently.
Moments later, the old wooden door creaked open, the sound echoing in the quiet room like a warning bell. Two pairs of footsteps cautiously entered, their weight pressing softly against the dusty floorboards.