The Myriad Spirit Realm was vast, a continent so expansive that a mortal could walk for ten lifetimes and never see its edge. It was a world where strength was the only currency, where the strong treated the weak as grass, and where the Heavens themselves were ruthless.
In the remote southern region of the Azure Cloud Province, situated upon the jagged cliffs of the Iron Blood Sect, a lecture was taking place.
The morning sun, filtered through the thick spiritual mist, illuminated a stone plaza where hundreds of disciples sat cross-legged. They wore coarse grey robes, marking them as Outer Sect disciples—the bottom rung of the ladder, yet still infinitely higher than the common mortals living in the mud below.
Elder Mo, a man whose beard flowed like dried straw and whose eyes held the arrogance of a predator, paced before them. He tapped a heavy iron staff against the ground, the sound echoing like thunder.
"Listen well, trash!" Elder Mo barked. "You have entered the Iron Blood Sect, which means you have stepped onto the Path of Heaven. But do not think you are special. To the true masters of this world, you are nothing but dust."
He swept his gaze over the fearful youths.
"The path of cultivation is treacherous. It is a ladder of bones. You are currently at the Qi Condensation Realm. This realm has nine stages. You must draw the Qi of Heaven and Earth into your bodies, cleansing your marrow and opening your meridians. Most of you will die of old age before reaching the ninth stage."
The disciples shivered.
"If—and this is a massive 'if'—you manage to condense your Qi into a liquid state, you will reach the Foundation Establishment Realm. Only then can you fly on swords and command elements. You become a true cultivator."
Elder Mo's eyes gleamed with longing. He was only at the peak of Foundation Establishment, stuck there for forty years.
"Above that is the Golden Core Realm, where your power solidifies into an eternal sphere of energy. A Golden Core master can destroy a city with a wave of their hand. Above that is the Nascent Soul Realm, where your soul becomes tangible, granting you a second life. Then comes the Spirit Severing Realm, where you cut your ties to the mortal coil."
The disciples listened, entranced. These levels sounded like myths.
"Beyond that," Elder Mo's voice dropped to a whisper, filled with reverence, "are the Dao Seeking Realm, the Saint Realm, and the terrifying Great Emperor Realm. An Emperor's aura alone can suppress a nation. They are the rulers of the Myriad Spirit Realm."
A bold disciple raised his hand, his voice trembling. "Elder... is there anything above a Great Emperor?"
Elder Mo froze. He looked up at the sky, his expression darkening.
"Legends say..." he murmured, "that in the chaotic era of antiquity, there were realms beyond the Emperor. The Nirvana Realm, the False Immortal Realm, and the True Immortal Realm. But the Heavenly Dao was severed eons ago. The bridge to Immortality is broken. Those levels are forgotten history. Do not dream of them. Focus on sweeping the courtyard!"
Far away, in the absolute center of the Myriad Spirit Realm, lay a place forbidden to all existence.
The Forbidden Zone of Endless Void.
Here, the laws of reality were twisted. Space fractured like broken glass, and time flowed like sludge. Even a Great Emperor would be crushed into meat paste if they dared to step one foot inside.
Yet, deep within this chaotic hellscape, a paradise existed.
A floating island, lush with purple bamboo and rivers of liquid spiritual energy, hovered in the void. In the center of this island stood a palace made of white jade that hummed with a power older than the world itself.
In the courtyard of this palace sat a man.
He wore robes of midnight blue, embroidered with stars that seemed to move on their own. His face was obscured by a thin veil of chaotic mist, making it impossible to perceive his true features. He was simply known as The Sovereign.
He did not cultivate. He did not meditate. The spiritual energy of the world bowed to him, rushing into his pores without him even asking.
The Sovereign sighed, a sound that caused the surrounding void to ripple.
"Boring," he whispered. The language he spoke was ancient, predating the current era.
He lifted his hand. His fingers were slender and pale. He did not weave hand signs, nor did he chant mantras. He simply willed it.
"Manifest," he commanded softly.
The air in front of him twisted. Golden light, the color of creation itself, coalesced. He wasn't pulling matter from somewhere else; he was rewriting the laws of reality to create something from nothing, using the memories of a world he had left behind eons ago—Earth.
Slowly, a strange object formed. It was a beast of metal and glass, sleek and black, resting on four circular wheels made of a strange, elastic substance.
If a modern human were here, they would recognize it instantly as a luxury sports car. But in this world, it was an alien artifact.
"A Spirit Vessel of High-Speed Travel," the Sovereign mused, running a hand over the hood. "Powered not by combustion, but by a trapped Lightning Dragon soul in the engine block."
He snapped his fingers again. The air shimmered, and a figure appeared.
It was a woman of breathtaking beauty, with silver hair and eyes like cut rubies. She wore a strange, frilled black and white dress—a maid outfit—but the aura radiating from her was sharp enough to slice the heavens.
She was not born; she was created. A Living Puppet. A Dao Guardian.
"Master," the woman said, kneeling instantly. Her voice was devoid of emotion, yet filled with absolute loyalty.
"Rise, Unit Alpha," the Sovereign said, leaning back on his throne. "Polish the Spirit Vessel. I feel the urge to drive through the void later."
"As you command."
The Sovereign looked up at the endless grey sky of the Forbidden Zone. He had arrived in this world countless millennia ago. He had conquered it, reached the peak, and found that the peak was lonely. He had surpassed the so-called "True Immortal" stage so long ago he had forgotten what it felt like to struggle.
His power, Absolute Manifestation, allowed him to bring his imagination to life. He had filled this sanctuary with things from his memories—comics, games, movies—recreating them as divine artifacts and living beings.
"Another cycle begins," he murmured, his eyes piercing through millions of miles of space to look at the tiny sects below. "I wonder if this era will produce anyone interesting."
Thousands of miles away, at the foot of the Iron Blood Sect's mountain, in a dilapidated woodshed.
"Argh!"
A boy gasped, his body arching in agony. He clutched his head, feeling as if a hot iron rod were being stirred inside his brain.
"Where... where am I? The truck... the headlights..."
The boy collapsed onto the pile of dry straw, panting heavily. His name was Lin Fan. Moments ago, he had been a university student on Earth, rushing to a convenience store. Now, he was... here.
Memories that weren't his flooded his mind.
Lin Fan. 16 years old. An orphan taken in by the Iron Blood Sect as a servant disciple. No talent. Mocked. Beaten. Died from internal injuries after being used as a punching bag by an Outer Sect disciple.
"I transmigrated?" Lin Fan whispered, staring at his hands. They were calloused and thin, covered in bruises. "I'm in a Xianxia world? The Iron Blood Sect?"
He tried to sit up, but his ribs screamed in protest. Despair washed over him. He knew these stories. Without a 'Golden Finger' or a cheat, he was dead meat. He was a servant with no background and a broken body.
Ding!
A mechanical, crisp sound rang out directly in his soul.
Lin Fan froze. Tears welled up in his eyes. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
[System Initializing...]
[Soul Binding Complete.]
[Welcome, Host, to the Nine-Seal Supreme System.]
A translucent blue screen, visible only to him, appeared floating in the dim light of the woodshed.
[Status Window]
Name: Lin Fan
Race: Human
Cultivation: None (Mortal)
Physique: Broken Waste Body
Techniques: None
Current Seal: Seal 1 of 9 (Locked)
[System Notice: The Host is detected to be in critical condition. Detecting the 'First Seal'. To unlock the First Seal and begin your path to supremacy, you must perform the First Task.]
Lin Fan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus through the pain. "What task?"
[Task: Survive the next 24 hours and kill one living being. (0/1)]
[Reward: Unlocking of the First Seal: The primal body cleansing and the 'Heaven-Devouring Art'.]
"Kill a living being?" Lin Fan looked around the empty woodshed. He couldn't even stand up, let alone kill a person.
Then, he saw it.
A fat, grey rat scuttled across the floorboards, sniffing at a moldy crust of bread near his foot.
Lin Fan's eyes narrowed. The ruthlessness of this world was already seeping into him. If he didn't kill, he would die. This was the law of the jungle.
He slowly reached for a jagged stone lying in the straw.
High above, in the Jade Palace of the Void.
The Sovereign paused in the middle of sipping his tea. He tilted his head slightly.
"A ripple?"
He felt a tiny, almost imperceptible disturbance in the fabric of the Great Dao. It was a frequency he recognized. It was the frequency of a soul that did not belong to this dimension.
"Another traveler from Earth?" The Sovereign mused.
His gaze swept across the continent, instantly locating the source. He saw the Iron Blood Sect. He saw the woodshed. He saw the boy raising a rock to smash a rat.
The Sovereign watched for a second, then lost interest.
"Weak," the Sovereign muttered. "His soul is fragile. He relies on a symbiotic spirit construct—a 'System'. How trite."
He had seen thousands of transmigrators over the eons. Most died within a week. Those who had Systems usually became arrogant and were slapped to death by young masters.
"Let us see if you can crawl out of the mud, little ant," the Sovereign said, turning his attention back to his tea. "If you reach the clouds, perhaps I shall grant you an audience. Until then... you do not exist."
With a wave of his hand, the Sovereign dismissed the image, isolating himself in his glory once more, while Lin Fan brought the stone down with a desperate scream.
Splat.