Synopsis
Ten thousand years ago, the Dimensional Rifts tore open and Spiritual Qi returned to Earth. Science merged with Daoism, and humanity entered the Era of Great Revival.
Jiang Chen was an orphan living in the slums with trash talent, destined to be cannon fodder. He struggled at the bottom of the food chain, mocked by the young masters and ignored by the world.
Until the headaches started.
One night, Jiang Chen's consciousness was drawn into a mysterious realm deep in his soul; The Myriad Heaven's Grave.
This is an ancient land. The Gods, the Devil Emperors, and the Immortal Sovereigns of the primordial era fought and died here. Their corpses are mountains; their blood is rivers. And their Remnant Wills still roam the land.
Jiang Chen reaches the horrifying realization that he can kill them.
[System Message: Defeated Ancient Sword Sect Disciple.]
[Plundering.]
Reward: 10 Years of Cultivation. Yellow-Tier Sword Art. Storage Ring.
While others meditate for years just to gain a sliver of Qi, Jiang Chen only needs to slaughter the ghosts in his head to plunder their lifetime of cultivation!
From the Mortal Dust Continent to the Divine Emperor Realm, Jiang Chen starts his conquest.
Need a weapon? I'll kill the Sword God's remnant and take his.
Need a technique? I'll beat up the Demon Empress until she drops her manual.
Need pills? There's the ghost of the Alchemy Sage right over there.
"I don't cultivate. I plunder." Faced with arrogant young masters, ancient patriarchs, and invasion from the Demon Realm, Jiang Chen rises from the slums to suppress the Nine Heavens.
"This Ancient Land is my hunting ground. And you are all just prey."
Chapter 1: The Battlefield Inside the Soul
The neon gut of Skyscar City flickered, casting long, jagged shadows across the Lower District. It was the Year 10,024 of the Great Revival. High above the smog, where the air was actually breathable, flying swords left trails of iridescent exhaust as they wove between magnetic-levitation patrol cars.
Down here? Down here, it just smelled like rust and stale cooking oil.
Jiang Chen walked with his chin buried in his collar, gripping the strap of a backpack that had seen better days. He paused under the flickering light of an electronic billboard attached to the side of the Sky-River Academy. The rankings for the upcoming mock exam scrolled past in bright, mocking red text.
Rank 945: Jiang Chen.
Cultivation: Body Tempering 3rd Stage.
"Trash potential," Jiang Chen muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He kicked a loose pebble, watching it skitter into a gutter filled with greenish runoff. "At this rate, I won't even make the cut for the cannon-fodder battalions. I'll be lucky to get a job sweeping the Beast Hunter Guild's toilets."
In this era, strength wasn't just status. It was currency. It was the law.
Cultivation level on Earth is divided into
1. Body Tempering Realm (Mortal Limits)
Stage 1-3: Iron Skin PhaseStage 4-6: Steel Bone PhaseStage 7-9: Golden Marrow Phase
2. Qi Gathering Realm (Awakened / Elite Soldiers)
Stages 1-9
3. Foundation Establishment Realm (Masters / City Leaders)
Early, Mid, Late, Peak
4. Golden Core Realm (Grandmasters / Strategic Weapons)
Early, Mid, Late, Peak
5. Nascent Soul Realm (Kings / Federation Leaders)
Early, Mid, Late, Peak
6. Spirit Severing Realm (Emperors / Continental Threats)
Early, Mid, Late, Peak
7. Void Shattering Realm (Sages / Planetary Limit)
Early, Mid, Late, Peak
Jiang Chen was an orphan living on government subsidies. He didn't have resources. He didn't have a clan. He practiced the Federation Basic Breathing Technique like everyone else, but without expensive nutrient fluids to fuel his body, his progress was agonizingly slow. Like trying to fill a swimming pool with a teaspoon.
He reached his apartment—a cramped concrete box in the slums. He locked the door, threw his bag onto the narrow bed, and sat down on the cold floor.
He refused to quit. Even if he was trash, he'd be the hardest working trash in the city.
He closed his eyes, trying to cycle his thin, wispy Qi.
Then it happened.
It started as a throb behind his eyes, rhythmic and dull. A second later, it felt like someone had driven a rusty railroad spike straight into his pineal gland.
"Ngh—!"
Jiang Chen curled forward, clutching his skull. This wasn't the first time. For the last month, these migraines had been hitting him at random. But tonight? Tonight was different. The pain didn't just hurt; it pulled. It felt like a hook had snagged his consciousness and was dragging him backward through a tunnel of jagged glass.
His vision blacked out. The sounds of the city—the distant sirens, the hum of the fridge—cut off instantly.
When Jiang Chen opened his eyes, he wasn't in his apartment.
The smell hit him first. Not rust and oil.
Blood. Old, dry, metallic blood. And ozone.
He scrambled up, his boots crunching on dirt that was harder than diamond. He looked around, and his breath hitched in his throat.
"Where... is this?"
The sky was a fractured mosaic of crimson and gold, swirling like a storm that had been frozen in time. But the horizon... the horizon was insanity.
It was a graveyard. A graveyard for things that shouldn't die.
In the distance, a corpse the size of a mountain range lay sprawled across the plains, clad in shattered golden armor. A spear, easily ten thousand feet long, was driven through its chest, pinning it to the earth. Further away, the skeletal remains of a dragon coiled around the ruins of a celestial palace that hovered brokenly in the air.
This was a battlefield. A primordial slaughterhouse where Gods, Emperors, and Demons had wiped each other out eons ago.
[Welcome, Inheritor.]
The voice didn't come from the air. It resonated directly in his marrow—ancient, cold, and devoid of emotion.
[System Activation: The Myriad Heaven's Grave.]
A translucent interface snapped into existence in front of him. It looked like the tactical HUDs used by high-level cultivators, but infinitely more complex. A 3D map unfolded, showing a massive world divided into nine distinct continents. Eight were shrouded in a heavy, terrifying fog—labeled Divine Emperor Continent, Netherworld Demon Continent, True Dragon Continent.
Only the outermost sliver of the map was visible. A gray, desolate wasteland.
[Current Location: The Mortal Dust Battlefield (Tier 1).]
[Objective: Defeat the Remnant Wills. Seize their Fortune. Plunder the True Inheritance.]
"Inside my head..." Jiang Chen whispered, his voice trembling. "There's a world of dead gods inside my head?"
He realized he wasn't physically here. This was a soul projection. But the cold wind on his skin felt real enough.
[Warning: Hostile Intent Detected.]
Jiang Chen spun around.
The gray mist ten meters away churned. A figure stepped out.
It was a translucent silhouette of a man, wearing the tattered, rotting robes of some ancient sect. He held a rusted iron sword in a grip that looked unbreakable. His face was a blur, but his eyes... his eyes were two hollow pits burning with pale blue ghost fire.
[Enemy: Remnant Will of an Ancient Sword Sect Disciple.]
[Cultivation: Equivalent to Body Tempering 4th Stage.]
"4th Stage." Jiang Chen's muscles tensed. "He's a whole level above me."
Fear spiked, hot and sharp. But beneath the fear, something else woke up. A primal, cornered-rat aggression. In the real world, he had to hold back, follow the rules, lower his head. Here? There were no laws here.
The Remnant didn't speak. It let out a silent, psychic scream and lunged.
Fast. It was incredibly fast.
Jiang Chen reacted on instinct, dropping low. The rusty sword hissed through the space his neck had occupied a split-second before. He rolled, coming up in a crouch. He used the only thing he knew—Federation Close-Quarters Combat. Standard military issue. Simple. Brutal.
"Die!" Jiang Chen roared, channeling every scrap of his pathetic Qi into his right fist.
He punched the Remnant square in the diaphragm.
It felt like punching a block of ice. The cold shockwave traveled up his arm, numbing his shoulder. The Remnant didn't even flinch. It raised the sword for a downward chop that would split Jiang Chen in two.
Jiang Chen didn't retreat. He couldn't.
He grabbed a handful of the blood-soaked dirt and flung it straight into the ghost's glowing eyes.
It was a dirty trick. A street rat trick.
The Remnant hesitated, the blue fire flickering as the spiritual dirt disrupted its vision.
That split second was all Jiang Chen needed.
He tackled the ghost. He didn't have a weapon, so he became one. He wrapped his legs around the spirit's torso, dragging it to the ground. He drove his elbow into the spirit's throat, again and again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The Remnant wasn't flesh and blood; it was condensed energy. Under the barrage, its form began to ripple and distort.
"Scatter!" Jiang Chen screamed, delivering a final, desperate headbutt into the Remnant's face.
With a wailing screech, the ancient swordsman shattered. It exploded into hundreds of golden motes of light.
Jiang Chen collapsed on the hard ground, his chest heaving. "I... I won."
[Victory.]
[Plundering Opponent...]
The golden motes didn't vanish. They swirled like a vortex and shot straight into Jiang Chen's chest.
He gasped. It wasn't pain. It was a rush of heat, purer and more potent than any high-grade nutrient solution money could buy. It flooded his dried-up meridians like a breaking dam.
[Reward Obtained: 3 Years of Pure Qi Cultivation.]
[Reward Obtained: Low-Tier Yellow Grade Combat Skill: Flowing Wind Sword Steps.]
Boom!
Jiang Chen's soul vibrated.
In the real world, in his tiny apartment, his physical body arched off the floor. His bones cracked, popping like firecrackers as impurities were forced out of his pores.
The barrier to the 4th Stage? Gone. Smashed instantly.
The energy kept surging.
4th Stage Mid-tier.
4th Stage Peak.
He stopped at the peak of the 5th Stage of Body Tempering.
In ten seconds, he had crossed a gap that would have taken him two years of bitter, sweat-soaked training.
And it wasn't just power. Memories flooded his mind. He saw the ancient swordsman practicing on a windy cliff. He felt the rhythm of the wind, the placement of the feet. The knowledge burned itself into his brain. He hadn't just learned the skill; he had mastered it.
Jiang Chen opened his eyes. The battlefield was gone. He was back in his room.
He stood up. He felt light. Powerful. The grime on his skin smelled terrible, but he had never felt better. He squeezed his fist, feeling the air compress in his palm.
He glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed.
A secret. He had to keep this a secret. If the Federation or the Great Families found out he had a graveyard of gods in his head, they wouldn't recruit him. They would dissect him.
Beep.
His phone buzzed on the bed. A notification from the class group chat.
Su Linger (Class Monitor): Reminder: Tomorrow is the sparring assessment. The bottom 10 students will be demoted to the labor class.
Wang Teng: Can't wait for tomorrow. I'm specifically looking forward to educating Jiang Chen. Hope he doesn't cry too loud.
Jiang Chen stared at the glowing screen. Wang Teng. The class bully. A rich kid at the 5th Stage who had been stepping on Jiang Chen's face for years just to impress the girls.
Yesterday, reading that message would have made Jiang Chen's stomach turn with anxiety.
Today?
A cold, sharp smile cut across Jiang Chen's face.
"Wang Teng," he whispered, tossing the phone onto the bed. "You better bring everything you have."
He turned off the lights, but he didn't sleep. He sat back down on the mat. The night was young, and there were thousands of ancient ghosts waiting in the mist.
The hunt had just begun.