Broken Cloud Mountain felt wrong the moment Lin Yuan got close.
From far away, it looked ordinary—just another abandoned mountain range in the Eastern Desolate Continent. Jagged peaks. Thin clouds drifting lazily across the slopes. Nothing dramatic.
Up close, the details told a different story.
Stone steps climbed the mountain, but most of them were broken. Some had sunk into the ground. Others were cracked clean through. Moss covered places where people had once walked daily. Pillars leaned at odd angles, their carvings worn down by time.
This wasn't untouched wilderness.
Someone had lived here.
And they had left.
Lin Yuan slowed down before stepping onto the first stair. He didn't rush. Old places liked to punish careless people. He tested the stone with his foot, then put his weight on it slowly.
Nothing happened.
The Qi here was weak, but stable. Not dead. Not corrupted. It flowed unevenly, like shallow water moving around stones.
That alone made the place suspicious.
He stopped under a broken arch and opened the system.
The interface appeared instantly.
This time, he focused on the surroundings.
A faint ripple passed through the panel.
Environmental stability detected.
That was all.
No explanation. No approval.
Lin Yuan snorted quietly. "Figures."
He closed the interface and continued upward.
The path split ahead. One route climbed steeply between narrow cliffs. The other dipped into a forest that had clearly grown wild after years of neglect.
He didn't choose immediately.
Instead, he climbed onto a large rock nearby and looked around.
Tracks crossed the dirt below. Some belonged to beasts—large ones. Claw marks scarred nearby trees. But what caught his attention were the boot prints.
Human. Recent. Careless.
Cultivators.
Lin Yuan's expression didn't change, but he immediately adjusted his plan.
He avoided the main trail and moved into the forest instead.
He walked slowly, placing each step carefully. He didn't try to hide perfectly—that was beyond him—but he minimized noise and stopped often to listen.
The forest was quiet, but not empty.
A bird suddenly took off nearby, wings flapping loudly. Lin Yuan froze instantly. He waited until his breathing slowed again before moving.
As the trees thinned, ruins appeared ahead.
Stone foundations lay scattered across the slope. A collapsed hall rested on its side, roof shattered. Old training grounds were barely recognizable, their outlines swallowed by dirt and weeds.
This had been a sect.
Lin Yuan walked around the ruins instead of entering immediately. He checked angles. Lines of sight. Escape paths.
The location was good.
High ground on three sides. Narrow approaches. Enough flat land to expand. If rebuilt properly, this place could be defended.
He stepped into the center of what had once been the main hall.
The Qi shifted slightly.
Not enough for alarms. Just a faint pull beneath his feet, like something moving underground.
Lin Yuan narrowed his eyes and opened the system again.
This time, it responded immediately.
Low-grade spirit vein suspected.
"Of course," Lin Yuan murmured.
That explained everything.
Why a sect had existed here.
Why it had fallen.
Why people kept coming back.
A low-grade spirit vein wasn't enough to guarantee survival, but it was more than enough to cause conflict.
And he was standing on top of it as a mortal.
Voices drifted down from above.
Lin Yuan moved without hesitation. He slipped behind a collapsed wall and lowered his breathing, peering through a crack in the stone.
Three cultivators walked past, talking casually.
"The vein's still shallow," one said.
"Not worth claiming," another replied.
"Let someone else fight over it," the third laughed.
Their Qi pressed against the air around them. Subtle. Heavy.
If they noticed him, he would die.
They didn't.
Only after they were gone did Lin Yuan relax.
The power gap was absolute. There was no room for heroics here.
He felt no fear—just confirmation.
This mountain wasn't safe.
Which made it valuable.
As night fell, Lin Yuan retreated farther down the slope and hid among rocks and brush. He chose a spot with multiple escape routes and clear sightlines. He didn't light a fire. He didn't sleep deeply.
He planned.
At the same time, far away on Earth, something else began.
The website didn't announce itself loudly.
No ads. No influencers. No countdown timers.
It appeared quietly in niche forums and private group chats.
A black background. Simple white text.
Closed Beta: Immersive Cultivation VR
The description was short.
Ultra-immersive experience.
Persistent world.
Limited access.
Hardware provided.
That was it.
The first reactions were skeptical.
"Looks fake."
"Another scam?"
"Who even writes ads like this?"
Then screenshots of the registration page started circulating.
It asked for real information.
Name. Address. ID verification.
And promised hardware delivery.
"If they actually ship a helmet, I'm in."
"This has to be a social experiment."
"No way this is real, but I signed up anyway."
Memes followed.
Someone joked it was government-funded. Another claimed it was an AI experiment. A streamer laughed on stream and said he'd try it if the gear arrived.
Questions filled the comments.
"Respawn timer?"
"PvP on or off?"
"Hardcore mode optional?"
"Pain sliders adjustable?"
Nobody talked about reality.
They talked about balance.
Registration numbers rose slowly. Not explosively. Just enough.
Back on Broken Cloud Mountain, Lin Yuan opened the system before dawn.
One line had changed.
The mountain was no longer just a candidate.
It was under evaluation.
Lin Yuan closed the interface and looked up at the peaks cutting into the pale sky.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's see if you're worth the trouble."
He turned and began planning his next move.