While Lu Fan remained immersed in his cultivation experiments and the management of his growing sect, a sudden message echoed within his mind.
Ding!
System Update Complete.
New Function Unlocked: Home Delivery – Cross-World Access Enabled.
A glint flashed in Lu Fan's eyes. The system had always been mysterious, but this time it introduced something extraordinary—the ability to send a clone into another world.
Curious and intrigued, Lu Fan immediately activated the function. In the blink of an eye, a clone was prepared and sent across the dimensional veil. When awareness returned, Lu Fan found himself standing beneath unfamiliar stars, deep in a dense forest that crackled with life unfamiliar to his senses.
However, his excitement faded as he examined his new body—it had been reset to a mortal shell. He had no cultivation, no qi, no spiritual core. Everything was gone.
He clenched his fists and muttered, "So this world has different laws…"
He wandered through the forest cautiously, relying on his heightened instincts and survival knowledge. Then, a translucent screen floated into his vision:
[Map Function Activated]
A small dot indicated his location. Several kilometers to the northeast, a village blinked on the map. Lu Fan hesitated. Rather than rushing toward civilization, he turned west and found shelter in a small, hidden cave nestled beneath a rock overhang.
Within this quiet retreat, he sat cross-legged and attempted to circulate spiritual energy. Nothing responded.
"So the spiritual structure of this world is incompatible," he murmured. "But let's see about my martial arts…"
Drawing on his profound understanding of body techniques, Lu Fan activated a basic martial art stance, followed by breathing techniques and blood essence refinement. Though cultivation failed, his martial foundation remained intact.
Days passed.
He hunted with online purchase tools, nourished himself with wild herbs, and slowly activated his bloodline. With great effort and several painful blood essence temperings, Lu Fan's body surged with power—he had broken through to the Innate Realm in a world where qi was foreign.
Once confident in his strength, Lu Fan descended from the cave and made his way toward the village, finally ready to make contact.
As Lu Fan approached the outskirts of the village, he concealed his presence with instinctive footwork, observing the area before stepping in. The village was small, rustic, and surrounded by wooden fences barely standing against the elements. Farmers worked the fields with crude tools, and children chased livestock through the muddy lanes. It was a humble scene—but what caught Lu Fan's attention was the faint scent of blood and decay lingering in the air.
He narrowed his eyes.
Something was wrong here.
He entered the village casually, his appearance that of a wandering hunter. The villagers looked at him with suspicion, but an old man eventually approached and offered him a piece of flatbread and water.
"You're not from here, are you?" the old man asked, voice raspy with age.
Lu Fan shook his head. "No. I'm just passing through."
The old man hesitated before leaning in and whispering, "You should go. Strange things have been happening. People disappearing at night… shadows moving on their own… The forest no longer obeys the old paths."
Lu Fan remained calm but inwardly sharpened his senses. Another kind of threat in this world… not spiritual, but something else—older, perhaps cursed.
"I'll stay a while," he said simply, taking a bite of the bread. "I've faced monsters before."
The old man looked at him with a mix of pity and faint hope.
That night, Lu Fan didn't rest in the village. He climbed to a nearby hill, set up a basic barrier using martial force, and waited.
As midnight passed, he saw them—shadowy figures creeping from the forest, crawling low like beasts, their eyes glowing faint red.
A grin touched Lu Fan's lips.
Time to see what kind of monsters this world hides.
That night, under a blood-hued moon, Lu Fan stood at the edge of a rotting forest, the air thick with resentment and the whispers of the dead. This world was soaked in yin energy. Even the ground felt tainted—soft, blackened, and pulsing with something wrong.
He had encountered ghosts—real ones. Twisted spirits with hollow eyes and gaping mouths, drifting through the trees like fog. They weren't mindless; they were filled with malice. The moment he arrived, they had begun to stalk him.
With no spiritual Qi in this world, Lu Fan relied solely on his martial arts. He fought with fists powered by blood essence and his tempered body. The ghosts weren't easily destroyed—only purified through sheer force and will.
One evening, after crushing a particularly vicious specter with his palm strike, he stumbled upon the remains of an ancient ritual circle. Strange bones marked the area, and in the center was a black book, humming with eerie energy.
When he opened it, he saw twisted cultivation methods: evil arts based on curses, blood contracts, and spirit binding. In this world, mortals used evil to fight evil.
Lu Fan narrowed his eyes.
"So this is how they survive…"
He didn't hesitate. He studied the arts, modified them, and began fusing them with his own martial foundation. Blood-forging techniques. Yin-warding runes. Body refinement through ghost fire. Bit by bit, he grew stronger, more adapted to this cruel world.
A few days later, when he approached a nearby village cloaked in mists, the guards stopped him. They wore black robes and bore twisted tattoos.
"Who are you?" one growled, clutching a skull-topped staff.
Lu Fan's eyes glinted. He raised his hand, releasing a burst of refined ghost fire from his palm, and the air sizzled.
"I'm someone who kills ghosts with my bare hands. You think you can stop me?"
The guards stiffened. And for the first time, fear entered their eyes.
The gates creaked open slowly, revealing a grim, shadow-cloaked village hidden beneath a canopy of cursed trees. Black mist coiled through the narrow streets, thick enough to hide twisted figures and whispering phantoms. The air reeked of burnt incense and old blood.
Lu Fan stepped in.
All eyes turned toward him—pale, sunken stares filled with suspicion and fear. Children with protective charms sewn into their skin hid behind gaunt mothers. Men bore talismans scorched into their chests, their auras faint and corrupted. This was not a place of peace. It was a cage where fear was worshipped.
A shaman in bone-white robes approached. His eyes were covered in bloodstained cloth, yet he moved unerringly.
"You are not from here," the shaman rasped. "Yet you walk with ghostfire. What do you seek?"
Lu Fan replied calmly, "Knowledge. Power. And survival."
The villagers murmured. Outsiders were rare—most were devoured by the forest or lost to madness.
The shaman studied him in silence. "You've touched ghostfire, yet are not corrupted. You may stay."
Lu Fan was led to a stone temple at the village center. Inside, walls were lined with jars containing dried organs, black candles, and relics made of bone and ash. At the heart of the temple stood a towering obsidian altar pulsing with dark light. It was the Soul Sink, a cursed object that absorbed wandering spirits to fuel the village's defensive array.
The shaman spoke, "Here, we bind ghosts to weapons, trap spirits in talismans, and forge flesh with yin essence. Our cultivators are not righteous—they are survivors."
Lu Fan observed everything carefully. The entire society revolved around controlled corruption. Those who could master the ghosts ruled. Those who failed were consumed.
He spent the following days learning how this place worked:
Spirit Binders trained to tether ghosts into their flesh to gain power.
Curse Scribes used blood to inscribe arrays on their skin for protection or offense.
Bone Forgers melted cursed remains to craft tools imbued with wrathful spirits.
Dark Wardens patrolled at night, wielding spirit lanterns to ward off the deeper evil lurking beyond the village.
Lu Fan didn't shy away. He absorbed every detail, comparing it to his martial path. Rather than fear it, he sought to twist it into something new—something he could control.
And at night, while others chanted incantations and fed the Soul Sink with wraiths, Lu Fan sat in silent meditation. He wasn't here to become like them. He was here to rise above.
"Even in a land of ghosts," he whispered to himself, "I will forge my own light."