The carriage bumped and jostled as it rolled along the uneven road, causing Ki to slowly open his eyes.
He had just woken from a dream.
In that dream, he had returned to a world long gone—the world before his transmigration into this Immortal Realm. Back then, he had only just turned twenty, brimming with youth, vigor, and grand ambitions. Memories of his long-lost hometown flickered faintly in his mind, leaving him momentarily dazed.
Snapping back to reality, Ki let out a soft sigh.
How quickly time passed. Before he realized it, twenty years had already slipped by since he left that mundane world behind.
Looking back, it was sheer luck that allowed him to survive when he first arrived in this strange land. Having barely stumbled out of some ancient, perilous forest, he came upon an Immortal Ascension Conference in a nearby town—a recruitment gathering for the Divine Sky Immortal Sect.
Realizing he was in a world of cultivation, how could Ki resist the allure of immortality?
He joined without hesitation.
During the aptitude test, the Immortal Elders discovered that he possessed Low Grade Spirit Roots, and so, without ceremony, he was admitted as an Outer Sect Disciple of the Divine Sky Immortal Sect.
The Deacon who enrolled him had warned him plainly—while Low Grade Spirit Roots could cultivate, most never rose beyond the Qi Refining Realm. Of those, only one in ten thousand might reach Foundation Establishment.
But Ki, a transmigrator armed with worldly knowledge and confidence, believed himself to be that one in ten thousand.
Then came the twenty years of reality.
He cultivated earnestly, worked tirelessly, yet saw only minimal results. Without a system, a cheat, or heaven-defying talent, Ki realized—he was no chosen one.
He finally understood why the sect even bothered to recruit those with Low Grade Spirit Roots.
The mortal kingdom under the Divine Sky Immortal Sect's domain had a population in the hundreds of millions. Of those, perhaps one in a hundred thousand possessed Spirit Roots. And the vast majority of those were Low Grade.
To maintain their dominance and operations, the sect routinely admitted these lesser cultivators into the Outer Sect. Their potential was meager, but they were indispensable laborers—tending spirit fields, mining spirit stones, maintaining furnaces for alchemists, preparing inks for talisman masters, and supporting formation arrays.
Over the course of two decades, Ki threw himself into all of these tasks—just to earn enough resources to continue his stagnant cultivation. Not a moment was spared. His life was divided between work and meditation.
Even at the age of forty, he had only barely formed a superficial bond with a single gentle-natured female cultivator—hardly anything worth mentioning.
Despite such dedication, the returns were meager. Like most with Low Grade Spirit Roots, Ki remained stuck at the Third Layer of Qi Refinement, unable to break through despite seventeen attempts. Meanwhile, fellow disciples who joined the same year had reached the Fifth or Sixth Layers, and the most talented among them had broken through to the Seventh Layer, even rising to the position of Outer Sect Deacon.
One month ago, after his seventeenth failed attempt to advance, Ki was finally forced to accept the painful truth: even among the low-grade, there are layers of disparity.
But unlike others who fell into hopeless cycles of cultivation, Ki retained clarity.
He had come from Earth. He had perspective. He knew when to stop digging a well in dry sand.
And so—he chose to let go.
He decided to lie flat. To give up the illusion of immortality.
And the moment he made that decision, a strange sense of relief washed over him. For the first time in years, he felt lighter, freer—perhaps even healthier.
He applied to take up the role of Guardian of Golden Sparrow City, a major mortal city within the Divine Sky Immortal Sect's territory.
Such roles were typically filled by aging disciples nearing the end of their lifespans—appointments to peaceful places, far from spiritual veins, where further cultivation was virtually impossible. In other words: retirement.
His assigned Deacon was briefly surprised by his decision, but quickly understood. Rather than mock him, the Deacon offered him some extra spirit stones—an unspoken gesture of camaraderie forged over twenty years.
Ki accepted them with quiet gratitude. No wonder that man had become a Deacon despite his own Low Grade roots—he had something most didn't: clarity.
"Master, we've arrived at Frost Moon Lake."
The voice was gentle and clear, drawing Ki out of his thoughts. It belonged to Qi, a graceful young woman from a prominent Golden Sparrow noble family—assigned to serve him after he accepted the gifted estate from the City Lord's Mansion.
"I see," Ki replied, lifting the curtain and stepping out of the luxuriously adorned carriage.
To Ki—who had lived in a world of cars, trains, and airplanes—these carriages were crude and uncomfortable. But he had no better alternative. Golden Sparrow City was far from any Spirit Veins, and the ambient spiritual energy was thin. Recovering even a sliver of mana required hours of meditation.
And having spent all his former savings chasing the illusion of breakthrough, he now lacked even the materials to forge a flying artifact.
So carriages it was.
Now a resigned cultivator with no further ambitions, Ki found peace in the simplicity of mortal life. In this world of few entertainments, one either studied techniques or passed time listening to music at refined brothels, or strolling by lakes and mountains.
Ki chose both.
Since arriving, he quickly built ties with Golden Sparrow's upper class and amassed a modest fortune. For a while, he indulged in music behind closed doors—until it all became stale.
Last night, he had just returned home after one such evening. As he lay down to sleep—
His mind buzzed.
A jolt of invisible force surged through his consciousness, startling him awake.
Startled, he examined his mental sea—and there, floating silently, was a single marble-like orb.
Its surface shimmered with unnatural clarity, and it glowed a faint, emerald green.
It pulsed slowly.
It was ready to be used.