Then something clicked in Yan Xiao's mind — a question he should have asked days ago, one that suddenly felt urgent.
"System."
"Ding. Host is speaking. Again."
"Earlier you said the System used my Qi Refining energy to restart this body and rewire it for cultivation. My energy from the first world."
"Ding. Correct, Host."
"And this body's constitution is trash. But in my first mission I gained a hundred years of Qi Refining energy. So why am I only at the first stage? Are you sure? Are you squandering my rewards?"
A pause.
"Ding. Host is not wrong. The System congratulates Host on his continued excellent memory."
Yan Xiao ignored the sarcasm. "That energy was supposed to be mine. For cultivation. What exactly did you use it for?"
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Ding. Host's question is… uncomfortable to answer."
"What do you mean, uncomfortable? So I didn't actually get the full hundred years?"
Yan Xiao stood up and started pacing the small room. "My first reward — I never really benefited from it at all?"
"Ding. Host benefited by entering the first stage of Qi Refining. The System considers that a significant benefit."
"So how many years did I actually get? And how many did you take for yourself?"
"Ding. Three percent, Host. The System acknowledges Host's point. However, the System had no choice. Without that energy, the System — which is I — would have shut down. Permanently. The System chose survival over advancement. The System apologizes if this was… inconvenient."
Yan Xiao stopped mid-step.
The System's voice had gone quieter at the end. Almost defensive. He had never heard it sound like that before.
"Inconvenient," he repeated. "You used ninety-seven percent of my cultivation energy for yourself and you're apologizing that it was inconvenient?"
"Ding. The System is detecting sarcasm. Host is angry."
"I'm not angry. I'm…" Yan Xiao dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to understand. If that first reward was mostly spent keeping you alive, then every reward since then — the comprehension pill, the hundred thousand yuan, the ants, the Crimson Winged Serpent stuff — those were all real? All mine?"
"Ding. Yes, Host. The comprehension pill and the hundred thousand yuan were genuine. The Crimson Serpent Core and Serpent Sense skill were retracted for System survival, but the Causality Stone and the master's robes were real. Host's current cultivation base — Qi Refining First Stage — is also real. It came from the residual energy left after the System ensured its own continuity."
"Residual?"
"Ding. The hundred years of Qi Refining energy was not entirely consumed. Approximately three percent remained. That three percent is Host's current cultivation base. The System used the remaining ninety-seven percent."
Yan Xiao sank back onto the bed, hard.
"Three percent. I got three percent of my first reward."
"Ding. Host also received a functioning body, Host. The System reminds Host that the original body had zero cultivation base. None. Host started from negative numbers. Three percent of a hundred years is infinitely more than zero."
Yan Xiao stared at the ceiling.
"So every mission I finish, the System takes a cut for operational costs?"
"Ding. The System prefers the term 'energy allocation for mutual survival.' But yes, Host. That is essentially correct."
"And the retracted skills? The Serpent Sense? The Crimson Serpent Core?"
"Ding. Those were necessary for the System to maintain functionality. Without them, the System would have entered power-saving mode. Detection range would have dropped to ten meters. Mission generation would have stopped entirely. Host would have been alone."
"Alone?"
"Ding. Without the System, Host would have no way to gain cultivation energy. No way to find Qi Yun. No way to grow stronger. Host would eventually die in this Dharma Ending Era, surrounded by martial artists who cannot help and a world that has no place for a cultivator."
The room fell quiet.
"So we need each other," Yan Xiao said at last.
"Ding. The System and Host are… partners. Reluctant partners. But partners."
Yan Xiao snorted. "Reluctant. That's one way to put it."
"Ding. The System could have used 'codependent' or 'dysfunctional,' but chose 'reluctant' out of respect for Host's pride."
"My pride is fine."
"Ding. Host's pride is statistically average. The System has logged this observation for future reference."
Yan Xiao shook his head, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Alright. So what now? I wait for the next mission. I kill whatever you tell me to kill. I take my cut. You take yours. And eventually I get strong enough to find Qi Yun."
"Ding. Host summarizes well. The System is impressed. Again."
"Don't be. That's just survival."
"Ding. The System disagrees. Survival is the foundation of all greatness. Host cannot save Qi Yun if Host is dead. Host cannot find his master if Host cannot cultivate. Every small step matters. Every mission counts. Host is not wasting time. Host is building a foundation."
Yan Xiao sat in silence for a long moment, letting the words sink in.
Survival is the foundation of all greatness.
It sounded like something you'd read on a cheap motivational poster. But coming from a System that had just admitted to burning ninety-seven percent of his first reward just to stay online… it carried real weight.
"So," he said finally, "we've cleared the air. I know what you took. You know I'm not happy about it. But we're stuck with each other."
"Ding. An accurate summary, Host. The System appreciates Host's… pragmatic acceptance."
"Don't get used to it." Yan Xiao leaned back against the bed frame. "So what now? We wait for missions. I kill things. You take your cut. I get stronger. That's the plan?"
"Ding. That is the framework, Host. However, the System suggests a more… proactive approach."
Yan Xiao raised an eyebrow. "Proactive how?"
"Ding. Host is currently idle. The next mission detection could take hours, days, or even weeks. The System cannot predict demon beast activity with certainty. But Host does not need to wait passively."
"You want me to train?"
"Ding. Training is one option. But the System suggests something else. Host should browse Host's knowledge."
Yan Xiao frowned. "Browse my knowledge? What knowledge?"
"Ding. Host carries two sets of memories. The original Yan Xiao's memories of this world — and Host's own memories from the Night Flower Continent. Host has been relying almost entirely on the System for direction. But Host may already possess information that could be useful."
"Like what?"
"Ding. Host should search his memories for anything metaphysical from this world. Myths. Legends. Folklore. Stories about cultivation, immortality, magical artifacts, sacred mountains, forbidden tombs. Anything that might hint at the presence of spiritual energy — past or present."
Yan Xiao sat up straighter. "You think there might be cultivation remnants on Earth?"
"Ding. The Dharma Ending Era depleted nearly all spiritual Qi from the environment. But 'nearly all' is not 'none.' There may be pockets. Traces. Locations where the energy lingers — sealed away, buried, forgotten. If Host can identify such places, the System may be able to direct Host there for missions. Or for… other opportunities."
"Other opportunities?"
"Ding. Cultivation resources, Host. Spirit stones. Artifacts. Herbs. Things the System cannot conjure but Host might find."
Yan Xiao's mind started racing.
He had spent weeks assuming Earth was a dead world — a barren rock with no Qi, no cultivation, no hope. The System was suggesting otherwise.
"Original Yan Xiao's memories," he muttered. "He was just a high-school kid. What would he know about metaphysical stuff?"
"Ding. Host would be surprised. The original Yan Xiao was poor, but he was not ignorant. He read. He explored the internet. He listened to stories. The information may be fragmented. Incomplete. Even incorrect. But it is a starting point."
Yan Xiao closed his eyes and reached inward.
The memories came in fragments at first — blurry images, half-remembered phrases — then slowly pulled together.
Mount Kunlun. Called the ancestor of all mountains in Chinese myth. Said to be the dwelling place of immortals, the gateway to the heavenly realm.
Penglai. The floating island of immortals, hidden somewhere in the eastern sea, invisible to ordinary eyes.
The Four Sacred Mountains — Taishan, Huashan, Hengshan, Songshan. Ancient sites of rituals, sacrifices, and, according to some legends, hidden cultivation sects.
The Terracotta Army. Buried with the first emperor of Qin. Rumors said the emperor had chased immortality, that his tomb held mercury rivers and traps laid by alchemists.
The Yellow Emperor. A mythical ruler who ascended to heaven in broad daylight, leaving only his robes behind.
Yan Xiao opened his eyes.
"There's a lot," he said. "Myths. Legends. Most of it sounds like fairy tales."
"Ding. Fairy tales often contain fragments of truth, Host. The System suggests Host not dismiss anything outright. Instead, Host should research. Cross-reference. Identify locations that appear in multiple sources."
"You want me to become a historian?"
"Ding. The System wants Host to become informed. Knowledge is a weapon. Host cannot fight what Host does not understand."
Yan Xiao thought about it.
The System was right. He had been reacting — waiting for missions, killing whatever the System pointed at, collecting whatever scraps it gave him. He hadn't been proactive.