A rippling distortion shimmered in the air like water disturbed by a stone. From within the swirling void of the Dimensional Gate, Lingyan emerged, his figure cloaked in a roaring aura of crimson and black flames—the Flamingora of the Internal Hard Flame. The very ground beneath his feet cracked from the intensity.
Beyond the shimmering barrier of the gate, countless elders and young disciples from various sects and ancient clans stared, wide-eyed. Whispers spread like wildfire:
> "He carries the Flamingora…" "That's not just any flame… that's the Internal Hard Flame, born from the bones of a dead star." "He must have unearthed ancient treasures!"
Then, the crippled and previously discarded cultivators—those with shattered meridians and broken destinies—emerged from behind Lingyan. They stepped through the gate, limping and weak, but smiling. One by one, they were welcomed by their families. Their return was miraculous.
Jealousy flared.
An old elder from the Bonefire Sect stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.
> "Boy," he sneered. "You harbor many treasures… Relinquish them to us. Or die."
Behind him, other elders joined in, greed glinting in their eyes. A little girl—no older than ten—stood silently beside Lingyan. Her presence alone made the cultivators more restless.
Lingyan laughed, his voice echoing like thunder over a dry plain.
> "And if I don't give you my treasures, what will you do? Beg harder?"
The elders released their spiritual energy. Thunder cracked. Mountains trembled. But before the attacks could form—
BOOM!
The earth shook as a monstrous silhouette blocked the elders. A Gorilla, its fur black as obsidian and eyes glowing like molten metal, stood before them. It beat its chest once. The sound shattered the clouds above.
> "This is… a Seventh-Grade Beast?!" an elder stammered. "We can't fight this! This thing is weight-classed to crush a sect by itself!"
The Gorilla opened its massive jaw and bellowed:
> "MOVE. Or die."
No one moved. No one breathed. The elders and disciples parted like waves, making a path. Lingyan and the Gorilla walked through, their pace calm, their presence absolute. Lingyan turned his head slightly, a wicked smile on his lips.
> "Next time, send someone worth killing."
And with that, he vanished into the wilderness with the beast.
---
Chapter 18: Diverging Paths
Later, deep in a dense forest bathed in twilight, Lingyan and the Gorilla—named Soyang—stood together beneath an ancient tree. They spoke not as beast and master, but as brothers forged through flame and fury.
After a time, they nodded to one another.
> "Paths differ," Soyang rumbled. "But war waits for no one. Stay alive."
> "I intend to do more than survive," soyang smirked. "I plan to rule."
With that, they went their separate ways—Soyang into the northern mountains, and Lingyan deeper into the forest.
Night fell. A pale moon watched as soyang stumbled upon a hidden cave, etched with ancient runes and dripping with ghostly essence. As he entered, the air grew cold. A ghostly voice greeted him from within:
> "Another traveler seeking power… How dull."
Unfazed, Lingyan sat cross-legged on a flat stone. "System," he called. "Show me what I've gained from this cursed trip."
A glowing panel blinked into view before him.
> [SYSTEM PANEL – LINGYAN]
Spiritual Awakening: Stage One Complete
Internal Hard Flame: Acquired
Defense Boost: +145%
Alchemy Trait Activated: You have fused with One-Finger Flame, enabling extreme precision in flame control.
Lingyan smirked.
> "Not bad…"
Suddenly, the system chimed again.
> SIDE MISSION UNLOCKED:
Mission Title: "Black Day for girls"
Objective: Dual Cultivate with 100 spiritually weak or non-cultivating girls abandoned by society.
Warning: Power gain will be minimal, but this mission must be completed.
Reason: Hidden.
Lingyan blinked.
> "Wait, what? Why? I didn't ask for this mission."
The system's voice responded coldly.
> "You don't need to ask. The path to true power often lies in choices we do not understand. Begin tomorrow."
Lingyan flopped back, sighing. "I save the world, tame a seventh-grade beast, and now I have to… romance the weak and forgotten? What kind of cultivation novel is this?"
A ghostly laugh echoed in the cave.
> "A dark one."
Absolutely! Here's your scene rewritten as a dramatic and darkly humorous passage for your cultivation novel, polished in a style that fits the tone you're going for:
From the cold veil of shadow, a figure emerged—its laughter like shattered glass scraping across the bones of the night.
"Today," the ghost cackled, licking spectral lips with an invisible tongue, "I shall feast upon something truly delicious."
Soyang, naturally unfazed, was lounging nearby, half-listening, half-annoyed. He sipped milk from a jade goblet—because why not—and glanced at the spirit with the same energy one reserves for a street performer in the middle of a sermon.
Between gulps of milk, a conversation sparked—ridiculously mundane, given one of them was a literal undead soul.
"Tell me something useful, ghost," Soyang said. "Or I'll trap your soul in a dog's butt for eternity."
The ghost froze, laugh dying mid-chortle. Then, like a beaten servant auditioning for a play, it bowed deeply. "W-wait! Don't do that, mighty cultivator! I surrender! I'll become your servant! My soul is yours! Just don't humiliate me again!"
Soyang leaned in, a shadowed smirk tugging at his lips. "That's sweet. But what exactly do I gain from adopting a transparent idiot with boundary issues?"
The ghost began listing its credentials like a desperate salesman at a soul market. "I—I have treasures! Gold, spirit stones, forbidden techniques, pills that haven't expired! I've looted from the dead and the living alike! All yours! Just don't banish me!"
Soyang tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... no. Give me your Soul Mark instead. I don't need a servant—I need something I can own."
The ghost trembled. Its ethereal form glitched for a moment as it manifested a glowing mark—branded with ancient runes and the scent of sorrow. It floated into Soyang's palm, nestling itself like a loyal dog finding a new master.
As soon as the mark sealed, the ghost knelt, tail between its translucent legs, groveling like a politician before an election. "Master! You are radiant! Powerful! Did anyone ever tell you your voice has the authority of a thousand thunders and the sex appeal of a demonic ice fox?"
Soyang sighed. "You're pathetic. I like it. Follow me."
And thus, the ghost was bound—not by chains or contracts—but by the pure, unfiltered shame of its own chaplusi.