In the boundless expanse of this world, cultivation unfolded across nine realms, each a milestone on the path to transcendence.
The Body Forging Realm, where flesh was hammered like molten steel; the Vitality Realm, where life's essence thrummed in every vein; the Primordial Pill Realm, where the seed of power took root; the Divine Wheel Realm, a celestial fulcrum of fate; the Divine Spirit Realm, where mortals touched immortality; the Divine Platform Realm, a foundation for legends; the Divine Palace Realm, a throne of dominion; the Illusory God Realm, where willmeditation shaped reality; and the Manifest God Realm, the pinnacle where legends became myth.
The Divine Wheel Realm was a crucible, a chasm separating the ordinary from the extraordinary. Countless cultivators stagnated in the Primordial Pill Realm, their aspirations extinguished by its unforgiving threshold.
In the great martial sects, attaining the Divine Wheel Realm could elevate one to seniority, cloaked in silken authority. In lesser schools, a headmaster might command the Divine Spirit Realm's might, their presence a faint beacon.
Reach the Divine Platform Realm, and your name would echo across the region, doors flung open by reverent hosts. At the Divine Palace Realm, the very land knelt, proclaiming you overlord. Beyond the Illusory God Realm loomed the supreme titans—elusive as whispers, their power a mystery to the mortal world.
Qin Ting's father stood among those shadowed heights, a titan of the Illusory God Realm. Known as Emperor Qin, his title resounded through the ages. Some whispered he'd touched the Manifest God Realm, his spirit grazing eternity's edge. Yet for a decade, he'd been an unmoving mountain, veiled in enigma.
'Has he fallen to a hidden foe? Ascended beyond flesh?' The Eastern Wilderness hummed with speculation, but none dared seek the truth.
Qin Ting, his son, was a radiant star in his own right. At sixteen, he'd shattered the Divine Wheel Realm's barrier, his breakthrough a cascade of golden light that bathed the Xuantian Sect's peaks in sacred fire. Unrivaled talent surged within him, amplified by the Vermillion Palace Divine Body—a rare gift said to cradle a shard of heaven's will.
Whispers trailed him like shadows: "He'll seize the Holy Son's mantle. The Qin blood burns too fiercely to be denied." Yet not all voices sang his praise; some hissed envy in the dark, eager for his stumble.
In the seclusion of his private chamber, Qin Ting cradled the Pill of the Five Aggregates, its amber-and-pearl surface pulsing with captive energy. He turned it in his fingers, its warmth seeping into his skin like a vow.
"Let it be known," he declared, his voice a deep, resonant command echoing off jade walls, "I will enter secluded meditation."
From beyond the hall's carved doors, a servant's voice answered swiftly, deferential. "Yes, my lord!"
Qin Ting settled onto the jade platform at the chamber's heart, its cool surface etched with spiraling runes that glowed faintly beneath him. Legs crossed, spine unyielding as a blade, he raised the pill to his lips and swallowed.
A surge of spiritual energy blossomed within, unfurling in his dantian like a lotus at dawn. Potent yet tranquil, it wove through his meridians like a gentle breeze, unlike the chaotic torrents of lesser pills. Such was the Pill of the Five Aggregates' wonder: might tempered by grace.
He closed his eyes, sinking into stillness. The energy danced within, a luminous thread he guided with unwavering focus. Refining it was no mere task—it was communion, a vow to silence doubters and claim the destiny his blood ordained.
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A month had passed in the blink of an eye.
Qin Ting's lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes, a radiant gleam of satisfaction sparking within their depths. The Pill of the Five Aggregates had lived up to its legend. Its spiritual essence surged through his meridians like rivers of molten qi, refined to perfection in the crucible of his dantian.
Power thrummed beneath his skin, and with it, he had shattered the barrier to the Divine Spirit Realm—a breakthrough as seamless as dawn cresting the horizon. His cultivation stood flawless, his foundation as unyielding as the ancient cliffs of Mount Tianhua.
"This treasure is a marvel beyond words..." Qin Ting's voice rang out, sharp with delight, echoing through the stillness of his chamber. His lips curved into a triumphant smirk. Yet as the euphoria faded, a fiercer hunger gnawed at him.
'Villain Points,' he thought, 'the currency of my ascent, burning in my soul like a relentless flame.'
Tilting his head, he murmured, "System, are missions the only path to Villain Points?"
A crisp, mechanical voice chimed in his mind, as if forged from celestial gears.
[Missions are not the sole route, Host. The system may issue temporary tasks—complete them, and Villain Points shall be yours. Moreover, actions aligning with a villain's essence, as judged by the system's discerning eye, will yield additional rewards.]
Qin Ting's smirk deepened, a glint of mischief dancing in his gaze. "So, to rise, I must embrace the shadows. How delightful." The notion sent a thrill through him, a twisted satisfaction coiling around his heart like a serpent. To wield power in this world, he would carve his name as a villain—and he relished the prospect.
With a flicker of intent, he rose, the silken hem of his robes whispering against the polished marble floor. He strode toward the grand doors of his cultivation chamber and flung them open, stepping into the splendor beyond.
The main hall unfurled before him, a vision of opulence perched atop a sprawling mountain range. The palace seemed to float amidst the clouds, its white jade arches and gilded beams catching sunlight in a cascade of brilliance.
Spirit energy hung thick in the air, a palpable hum pulsing through stone and sky—tenfold richer than the barren lands below. This was no mere abode; it was a sacred domain, a cultivator's paradise sculpted by the Qin Family's timeless will. And it was his alone.
Hundreds of figures moved through the palace's expanse—handmaidens in flowing silks, attendants with bowed heads, and guards whose armor gleamed like captured moonlight. They were the lifeblood of this sanctum, tending to Qin Ting's every need with the quiet devotion of generations. Their ancestors had knelt before the Qin banner centuries ago, their loyalty forged in blood and oath, unbreakable as the mountains themselves.
Beyond the chamber's ornate doors, carved with coiling dragons and inlaid with pearls of moonlight, stood Nie You. He lingered in the shadow of a marble pillar, his posture rigid with anticipation, his dark robes blending into the dim glow of spirit lanterns lining the hall. His sharp eyes, weathered by years of service, flickered toward the doorway as it opened, revealing Qin Ting.
"My lord!" Nie You's voice rang with unrestrained joy, tempered by a deep bow, his tone laced with reverence. His grizzled features softened, a rare smile breaking through the stern lines of his face.
Qin Ting stepped forward, his presence commanding even in stillness. His robes of enchanted silk rippled like starlight, catching the lantern glow and casting faint prisms across the polished floor. Before he could speak, Nie You's gaze sharpened, his senses brushing against the subtle aura radiating from his master.
His breath hitched, eyes widening in awe. "My lord… have you broken through to the Divine Spirit Realm?"
A flicker of satisfaction curved Qin Ting's lips, though his expression remained composed, as if the feat were merely a stepping stone. He inclined his head in quiet affirmation.
Nie You's delight burst forth, uncontainable. "Young Master, your talent is a marvel—a blazing comet destined to illuminate the annals of history! The patriarch will be overjoyed. Another legend rises in the Qin name!"
Qin Ting raised a hand, cutting through the praise with calm authority. "Enough, Nie You. Flattery is a dull blade—I've no use for it. You've been waiting here, which means you bring news. Speak. What of Ye Qiu?"
The warmth in Nie You's face dimmed, replaced by somber focus. He straightened, his voice dropping to a measured cadence. "Indeed, my lord. We've uncovered the trail of this Ye Qiu."
He paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued. "Ye Qiu hails from Qingcheng, a dusty speck of a town on the edge of Fuguo, a border kingdom of little renown. Born to the Ye family, one of four great clans ruling that backwater like petty kings, he was a prodigy touched by the heavens—reaching the Body Forging Realm at eight."
"By ten, he'd achieved grand perfection in that realm, a feat that had the townsfolk whispering of immortals reborn. But then—" Nie You's brow furrowed, his tone darkening—"something went awry. For five years, from eleven to sixteen, his cultivation didn't just stall—it withered. He plummeted to the seventh layer of the Body Forging Realm, a fallen star mocked by those who once sang his praises."
Qin Ting's eyes narrowed, a spark of intrigue glinting within them. "And yet he rises again. How?"
Nie You nodded, as if anticipating the question. "Two years ago, the tide turned. Within a single year, he broke into the Vitality Realm, his strength surging like a river unleashed. With that power, he dragged the Ye family to the top of Qingcheng's hierarchy, crushing their rivals beneath his heel. His deeds spread beyond the town's crumbling walls, reaching the capital of Fuguo. There, his name became a storm on every tongue—tales of a youth who defied fate itself."
He exhaled, eyes sharp with knowing. "They say even the Qianyuan Sect, those haughty recluses of the mountains, extended an invitation to join their ranks. He spat on it, refusing their call."
The Qianyuan Sect stood as a radiant pillar in the Eastern Wilderness, its marble halls and verdant peaks pulsing with the lifeblood of cultivation. Though its legacy bowed before the celestial might of the Xuantian Sect, it remained a force few dared to scorn—a crucible of power forged by time, its disciples wielding arts that could sunder stone and summon storms.
Within his palace, Qin Ting reclined on a throne of carved jade, his gaze distant, as if piercing the mists of fate. The air shimmered with the faint residue of his Divine Spirit Realm aura. A sudden thought stirred him from his reverie.
Turning to Nie You, his voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "What's become of Liu Susu?"
Liu Susu—a name rooted in humble soil, once entwined with Ye Qiu's childhood laughter. On that fateful day in the Sunken Moon Valley, where the earth wept with hidden qi and the sky loomed with foreboding, she had crossed Qin Ting's path. Drawn to her latent spark, he had claimed her as a maid, setting her on a path few could dream of treading.
Nie You stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the polished floor. "Miss Liu trains in the inner sanctum as we speak, Young Master," he said. "Per your orders, she received the Mysterious Color Scroll and a Moon-Condensing Pill. Her talent shines—she ascended to the Primordial Pill Realm days ago, her breakthrough marked by a silver halo that left the servants whispering in awe."
A flicker of pride glinted in Qin Ting's eyes, but Nie You's pause sharpened his focus. The attendant's brow furrowed, hesitation lacing his next words. "There's more, Young Master. Song Changge has emerged from seclusion."
The name hung like a storm cloud. Qin Ting's eyes narrowed, sharp as a hawk sighting prey. Song Changge, a True Disciple of the Xuantian Sect, was a rival carved into his bones—a thorn of pride and bitterness.
Six months ago, their clash had ended in Song's humiliation, his wits unraveled by Qin Ting's relentless cunning. Vowing vengeance, he had vanished into the sect's forbidden caves, swearing to return only when his strength could topple his foe.
Nie You's tone remained measured. "He's issued a challenge through an intermediary. Three days from now, he awaits you on the Battle Stage. But Young Master, with your ascent to the Divine Spirit Realm, Song Changge's defiance seems a moth fluttering toward a flame."
Qin Ting's lips curved into a faint, predatory smile. "To challenge me the moment he steps into the light… he's been weaving his little web, hasn't he?"
Nie You inclined his head, voice lowering. "Our spies report he's acquired a rare treasure—a weapon pulsing with unfamiliar qi. Its origin eludes us, but the shadows are restless."
Qin Ting leaned back, fingers drumming the jade armrest as he mulled the revelation. A sigh escaped him, heavy with meaning. 'Some fools grow impatient,' he thought. 'They tire of lurking in my shadow.'
Nie You's gaze lifted, steady and questioning. "Shall we prepare countermeasures, Young Master?"
With a flick of his sleeve, Qin Ting's aura surged—a cold, imperious wave that rippled through the chamber, snuffing out the lanterns' gentle glow for an instant.
"No," he said, his voice a low growl. "Let them come. I'll see who dares bare their fangs against me. This farce with Song Changge will peel back their masks. Hmph—my leniency before has let them forget the sting of their scars."
A fleeting smirk ghosted across his lips, vanishing as swiftly as it came, leaving only an enigma in its wake. 'Let Song Changge come,' he thought. 'His defiance will be the spark that illuminates my enemies—and their end.'