The questioning disciple hesitated. "But I… I could have sworn someone just…" His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping into his expression. After a moment, he let out a nervous chuckle. "Heh, I must have imagined it. You're right. No one passed."
The first disciple shrugged and turned back to his duties, the strange moment already fading from his mind.
With a single thought, I had rewritten their memories, dissolving my presence from their awareness as easily as mist under the morning sun.
It was effortless.
I wandered through the sect's familiar courtyards, my steps slow, my mind lost in memories. Disciples practiced martial techniques in neat formations, their shouts sharp and filled with determination.
I paused at the edge of a training field, watching a group of young students spar under their instructor's watchful eye. Their movements were clumsy, their footwork unsteady, but their spirits burned with ambition.
Nothing has changed.
Decades had passed, and yet, in this place, time seemed to stand still.
I turned away, my gaze drifting toward the distant mountain path. My master's residence lay there, tucked away in quiet solitude. The thought of seeing him again after all these years filled me with something I could not quite name. Anticipation? Regret? A longing that had been buried beneath layers of time?
When I arrived, I found him sitting on a wooden stool outside, his back hunched, his body frail. The passage of time had carved deep lines into his face, his once-mighty frame reduced to skin and bones. His eyes were half-closed, as if caught between sleep and wakefulness.
Sensing my presence, he slowly opened them. For a moment, they were clouded with confusion, unable to recognize the man standing before him. I had changed.
But then, recognition flickered in his gaze. His eyes, dull with age, regained a trace of their old light. His lips parted.
"Is it... you?"
I stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Greetings, Master. It has been a long time."
The silence stretched between us before I finally spoke, my voice low, laced with nostalgia. I told him of my journey. When I mentioned that I had reached the Heavenly Ascension Stage, I saw his eyes widen, his hands trembling slightly.
"To have reached the Heavenly Ascension Stage at your age… truly, you are a monstrous talent." His voice wavered between admiration and disbelief.
What he didn't know—what I chose not to say—was that I had reached this realm long ago. If he knew how far I had truly gone, would he even be able to comprehend it?
He spoke then, sharing the years that had passed in my absence. The rise and fall of talents, the shifting tides of the sect's affairs. But when he spoke of his own cultivation, a shadow passed over his face.
"I have tried for decades to break through the barrier of the Titanium Will Stage," he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. "But I failed. My lifespan is reaching its end. Now, I can only wait for my final moments in seclusion."
I lowered my gaze. The path of cultivation was cruel. Not everyone could step beyond their limits. For every ascendant, a thousand others were left behind, their dreams turning to dust.
After a moment, I met his gaze. "Master, would you allow me to stay with you for a year? I wish to spend some time in quiet reflection."
His expression softened. The weariness in his eyes lifted, replaced by something almost... grateful. "Of course. It would bring me great joy to have your company. Perhaps the heavens have granted me this reunion as a final blessing."
Seasons passed. In the mornings, we spoke of martial arts, of life, of the fleeting nature of all things. In the evenings, we sat in silence, watching the sun set beyond the mountains.
I spent my days refining my understanding, delving into the complexities of martial arts. My mind wandered through the countless techniques I had encountered, searching for patterns, for truths hidden beneath the surface.
"The Path of Martial Arts," I murmured one evening, my brush gliding across parchment.
Slowly, I began compiling a complete martial arts system—a culmination of all my insights, all my experiences.
At night, my thoughts stretched beyond the Heavenly Ascension Stage, grasping at the unknown. The pursuit was intoxicating, like glimpsing fragments of an infinite sky.
And then, the final day came.
I sat quietly in the small study my master had prepared for me. Before me, the last page of my martial arts system lay completed.
I exhaled slowly, setting my brush down. My fingers traced the edges of the parchment as I whispered, "This will be my gift to the Iron Vein Sect. My way of severing karma with this place."
The moment the words left my lips, my form flickered. Like a passing shadow, I dissolved into the air, leaving nothing behind.
....
My eyes snapped open, and a sharp, searing pain tore through my skull, as if an ocean of memories had been forced into my mind all at once.
I clenched my teeth, my fingers digging into my temples as I rode out the storm. It wasn't just pain—it was disorientation, like I had been ripped from one reality and thrown into another without warning.
For a moment, I forgot where I was. The memories of twenty-five years pressed against my soul. My body trembled slightly.
Then, clarity returned. The white ceiling of my dormitory came into focus. My bed. My desk. The faint buzz of the air conditioning.
"I'm back," I murmured, my voice hoarse.
The words felt strange on my tongue. Just moments ago, I had stood atop mountains, faced warriors, pursued the boundless path of martial arts. Twenty-five years of relentless struggle, of enlightenment, of pain. And now, I was here.
My eyes darted to the clock, my pulse quickening.
Only an hour had passed.
I stared at the digits, my mind refusing to accept the absurdity. Twenty-five years there. One hour here. A lifetime condensed into a mere hour.
"So… time flows differently between worlds."
I forced myself to breathe deeply, steadying my thoughts. I needed answers.
Closing my eyes, I turned my focus inward.
Within my mind, a towering gate loomed in the void—a structure both ethereal and ancient. The Otherworldly Passage. Its surface shimmered faintly. The light was dim, flickering sluggishly, as if drained.
The moment I laid eyes on it, knowledge surged into my mind.
I gritted my teeth as the influx of information threatened to overwhelm me.
My first journey had been a consciousness transfer—my body had remained here, while my soul had lived in the martial world.
But there was another method.
Full-body traversal.
Unlike consciousness transfer, this method allowed me to physically enter the other world. No disconnect. No separation. I could bring everything—my body, my strength, my belongings. But it came with a steep cost.
I frowned. The energy required for full traversal is immense. The passage needs years to recharge between trips.
That meant I couldn't just jump between worlds whenever I pleased. If I chose to go in my physical form, I'd be locked in until the passage recovered.
And the worst part?
If I die while physically there… I die for good.
I exhaled sharply.
It was a dangerous gamble, but the advantages were undeniable. If I entered with my full body, I wouldn't have to start from scratch every time. No more rebuilding strength. No more adapting to a weaker vessel. And… I could bring things back.
I opened my eyes. First, I needed to regain my strength.
I closed my eyes again, focusing inward.
The energy here was different—thin, diluted, barely a fraction of what I was used to. In the martial world, energy had flowed like an endless river, nourishing every fiber of my being. Here, it was a stagnant pond.
Still, I adapted. Drawing on the minuscule energy around me, I refined it within my dantian with practiced precision.
Nine hours passed.
When I opened my eyes, I felt it.
Power.
Not the overwhelming might I once wielded, but a foundation had been laid. My body, which had once been frail by this world's standards, had now stepped beyond mortality.
Peak Stone Core Stage.
I exhaled, stretching my fingers. Not enough. My previous strength remained out of reach. It required a vast reservoir of external energy—something I couldn't gather here.
A faint smirk tugged at my lips.
Still, I'm an Ascendant now.
In the Stellar Human Alliance, an "Ascendant" wasn't just a title. It was a classification—someone who had awakened abilities beyond human norms.
Internal energy, psychic strength, supernatural talents. Any of these qualified a person as an Ascendant.
And with that status came power.
An Ascendant was exempt from conscription. The military couldn't draft me unless I volunteered. That single fact meant I had leverage.
But to make it official, I need certification.
The Ascendant Association was the governing body that regulated those with supernatural abilities. Without their approval, my strength meant nothing.
I ran a hand through my hair, my mind already planning.
"I'll visit the Association tomorrow," I murmured. "Get my certificate. Secure my exemption."
That gave me time. Nearly half a month before the conscription deadline.
Still, that was just the beginning.
My gaze darkened. My strength, even with this progress, was nothing of what it had been. The natural energy here was insufficient. If I wanted to reclaim my true power, I needed external resources—elixirs, supplements, anything that could accelerate my cultivation.
But there was one problem.
Money.
A wry chuckle escaped my lips. For all my strength, for all my knowledge of the Dao, I was still bound by something as trivial as financial constraints.
My fingers tightened into a fist.
No. I wasn't powerless.
I had something more valuable than money.
My knowledge.
The Path of Martial Arts—the perfected system I had developed through decades of battle and enlightenment. A path that did not exist in this world.
If I could formalize the martial arts system I had perfected over twenty-five years and present it to NovaSys, the Stellar Human Alliance would have no choice but to take notice. They actively sought new Ascendant pathways, rewarding those who expanded human potential with wealth, prestige, and influence.
My heart pounded as the idea took shape.
My fingers tapped against the bedframe, the rhythmic sound grounding me as my mind raced.
I had read about them before—those who introduced new Ascendant pathways, the ones who altered the course of civilization. Their names were etched into history, their contributions earning them fortunes beyond measure, their status rising above even the highest nobles.
It had always seemed like a distant, unattainable thing. Something only geniuses or prodigies could accomplish. But now, I realized—I was that person.
And I would be a fool not to use it.
"It's worth a shot," I murmured.