007 Unique Cultivation [Part 2]

  In a short three months, Bi Yuan had reached the maximum level for the 1st stage.

  Now, she was ready to break through.

  She must be a cultivation genius!

  Or rather—

  It was thanks to the system.

  And, of course, Bi Yuan’s relentless efforts.

  Sigh…

  I didn’t believe in innate talent.

  No one was born special.

  Everyone was as capable as another.

  At most, I believed in affinities—but never talent.

  Especially not the heaven-defying kind.

  To me, ‘talent’ was just an over-exaggeration of an individual’s aptitude.

  Yes, aptitude.

  A far more accurate description of what people mistook as ‘talent.’

  If you were bad at something—

  It simply meant you hadn’t put in enough effort and time.

  If you were too good at something—

  It meant you had either a cheat or a trick.

  According to old Fu Shi’s memories—

  It took at least a year for a cultivator to break through from the Martial Tempering Realm to the next stage.

  And that was only if you were a second-generation young master, bathed in resources and constantly praised as a genius.

  Yet Bi Yuan had reached the peak in just three months.

  Sigh… Some bad memories are coming back to me… Anyway—

  “I should stop with my philosophical bullshit about talent.”

  I shook my head.

  Now… what could I do for Yuan’er?

  Bi Yuan entered my cave, her fur sullied by hardened blood.

  Traces of her battles were etched into her body.

  The aura of a warrior radiated from the small creature in front of me.

  For three months, I had watched her challenge the beasts of the forest.

  Each battle made my heart jump in fear.

  What if she died?

  The thought haunted me.

  Yet, time and time again—

  The little bunny achieved the impossible.

  Now, she was staring at me.

  Those big, imploring eyes.

  As if begging me to make her stronger.

  The last time she did this, I felt useless.

  Like a decorative NPC whose sole purpose was to exist.

  But now—

  Things were different.

  [Name: Fu Shi

  Quintessence: 92

  Players: 1/1]

  A long time had passed.

  And now, I had more than enough quintessence to do something great.

  However—

  The next cultivation stage had more stringent requirements.

  I couldn't just dump quintessence on her and expect instant success.

  This time, Bi Yuan needed enlightenment.

  Even the system had its limitations.

  Sure, I could force her breakthrough with more quintessence—

  But did the little bunny have the patience to wait?

  [Ping! Giving Quest... Class Advancement!]

  This was the only way.

  I couldn't spoil her anymore.

  This was for her own good.

  [Quest: Become a Silver Paladin!

  Slay a Martial Tempering realm enemy (0/5)

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Rewards: Achieve 2nd Stage Paladin status. Increased Art. Increased Aptitude. Remove Level Cap.]

  I spent 15 quintessence points to create this quest.

  Specifically, the class advancement reward.

  That was worth 15 days of my accumulated resources.

  Still—

  The rewards were scrumptious.

  Especially since the system’s players were capped at the 1st stage.

  What I was doing was forcefully removing the cap for the little bunny.

  [Name: Fu Shi

  Quintessence: 77

  Players: 1/1]

  Bi Yuan bowed.

  Like she always did.

  And then—

  She left.

  I didn’t stop her.

  Instead, I sat in a lotus position and meditated.

  Bi Yuan was an investment.

  She was the first player of my system.

  She was the proof that my vision—

  Of turning this world into a game—

  Was possible.

  But it wasn’t just that.

  I wasn’t purely utilitarian.

  I had sincerity toward the little bunny.

  I was giving her an opportunity—

  And I believed she wouldn’t pass it up.

  As I meditated, I pondered.

  On the meaning of ‘Player’ and ‘Gamer’.

  On old Fu Shi’s life before mine.

  This world had rules.

  And I would change them.

  One player at a time.

  Weeks passed.

  Bi Yuan hunted tirelessly, seeking foes to complete her Class Advancement Quest.

  Meanwhile, I devoted myself to mental cultivation.

  It was difficult.

  I had to blindly feel for my path, lacking the guidance of a traditional cultivation method.

  Despite my struggles in cultivation, I had no other complaints.

  With Bi Yuan’s help, I had plenty of food stored.

  I ate well.

  I slept enough.

  For the first time in this new life, I felt a semblance of stability.

  A lull period—a precious opportunity.

  I refused to waste it.

  No matter how tedious, I forced myself to study the scriptures in my cave.

  I retraced old Fu Shi’s cultivation, searching for a new path forward.

  If qi cultivation was impossible for me, then perhaps the mind held the key.

  Beyond mental training, I maintained physical fitness with daily exercises.

  I also organized old Fu Shi’s memories, arranging them into a Mental Library with the aid of quintessence.

  This was necessary.

  Not just for my advancement—

  But because old Fu Shi’s memories were fragmented.

  I understood this fragmentation thanks to my superior mental power.

  I didn’t mean to boast—

  But if there was one thing I was truly skilled at, it was mental focus and endurance.

  Using this strength, I sorted and analyzed the old memories.

  Yet, even after all this time—

  I had barely scratched the surface of old Fu Shi’s long life.

  My greatest motivation to meditate came from my growing mental power.

  I strongly believed that someday, my efforts would bear fruit.

  Maybe not today—

  But eventually.

  And so, I immersed myself in meditation.

  Not just as a pastime, but as a necessity.

  Time passed mercilessly—

  And I persisted.

  Then, one day—

  I felt it.

  Something changed.

  While sorting through old Fu Shi’s memories, I attempted to grasp the Heavenly Dao.

  The Dao was an abstract, philosophical concept.

  Yet, it held tangible power beyond simple reasoning.

  For most Perfect Immortals, the Dao could only be understood intuitively.

  Old Fu Shi was no different.

  But I was.

  My perception of the Dao was not limited by intuition.

  I had the mind of a modern Earthling.

  A mind shaped by logic, science, history, and culture.

  My understanding of the Dao was convoluted, yet paradoxically ordered.

  Even now, I found it strange.

  My thoughts did not clash with old Fu Shi’s memories.

  Rather—

  They interwove seamlessly.

  I contemplated.

  Had I not possessed both my past knowledge and old Fu Shi’s wisdom, I wouldn’t have been able to interact with the Heavenly Dao the way I did.

  Likewise, had Fu Shi been in my place, even with his profound cultivation, he wouldn't have been able to recreate my methods.

  His understanding of the Dao was profound in its own right—

  But mine was different.

  The Game Master System I had created—

  It was only possible due to the combined knowledge of old Fu Shi and myself.

  I lacked qi, but I possessed an awareness of how the brain worked. And more intimately, how to make games. In the eyes of traditional cultivators, what I was doing was probably heretical.

  Or worse—

  They might even call me a demonic cultivator.

  That thought amused me.

  What did I look like from Fu Shi’s perception?

  Curious, I decided to look within.

  Before, I had briefly peered into my own soul.

  But I never dared to look too deeply.

  Not until now.

  I had accumulated enough quintessence to save myself if anything went wrong.

  I had also perfected my Mind’s Eye.

  There was no better time.

  And so, I activated it.

  I focused inward.

  What I saw—

  Astounded me.

  As I peered inward with my Mind’s Eye, my vision distorted.

  The world around me faded—

  And suddenly, I was inside something vast, boundless, and eerily familiar.

  I found myself standing in a limitless space, surrounded by two opposing streams of memories.

  To my left—

  I saw my past life.

  A life chained to an abusive game development studio, where I worked myself to the bone.

  The endless crunch, the exploitation, the feeling of being nothing more than a tool—

  All of it manifested before me in vivid detail.

  I saw myself sitting hunched over a keyboard, the glow of the screen illuminating my exhausted face.

  A superior loomed over my shoulder, spitting insults and demands.

  My hands shook as I typed.

  My body ached from exhaustion.

  And yet—

  I kept working.

  To my right—

  I saw Fu Shi’s memories.

  A lifetime spent in bitter struggle.

  Cultivation was a path paved with pain, and Fu Shi had endured all of it.

  I watched as he vomited blood after each failed breakthrough.

  I felt his agony as his body shattered, his soul tormented by forces beyond human comprehension.

  I witnessed his despair as he was betrayed by those he trusted.

  It was pain for pain, suffering against suffering.

  My life against Fu Shi’s.

  Which was worse?

  Who had suffered more?

  As I observed, an invisible force pushed against me.

  I felt a battle taking place—

  Something was trying to eject me from this space!

  It was like a will opposed my intrusion.

  An instinctual, defensive reaction from this illusory mindscape.

  But I refused to leave.

  Instead—

  I walked forward.

  The more I pushed ahead, the more the memories changed.

  Gone were the images of exploitation and pain.

  Instead, I saw—

  Hard work.

  Perseverance.

  Joy.

  On my left, I watched my past self, not as a victim, but as a creator.

  I saw myself designing worlds, writing code, constructing game mechanics.

  I saw the passion I once had, before it was drowned in corporate cruelty.

  I saw the friends I made, the moments of laughter, the thrill of bringing ideas to life.

  On my right, I saw Fu Shi, not as a tormented cultivator, but as a dedicated seeker of the Dao.

  He studied for centuries, endured setbacks, and still—

  He persevered.

  He grew stronger.

  He taught disciples who looked at him with reverence.

  He laughed with comrades who respected him.

  Fu Shi’s life was not just suffering.

  It was also a life well-lived.

  As I went deeper, the illusion around me trembled.

  Cracks formed in the mindscape, splitting it like fractured glass.

  Then—

  It shattered.

  Everything was white.

  An endless void of pure emptiness.

  And standing before me—

  A cracked porcelain version of Fu Shi.

  His surface was fractured, as if he were a fragile ceramic doll barely holding together.

  But his eyes...

  They were watching me.

  Waiting.

  I took a step forward—

  And the porcelain figure spoke.