The moment we stepped out of the restaurant, the opulence of the inner city embraced us once more. Towering pagodas lined the streets, their golden eaves glinting under the light of floating lanterns. The scent of rare incense mixed with the soft hum of spiritual formations hidden beneath the polished stone roads. Disciples in embroidered robes moved with a quiet confidence, their conversations a murmur of cultivation techniques and sect politics.
I glanced at the old man beside me. His gait was unhurried, hands lazily tucked behind his back as he strolled through the city like he owned it. His relaxed demeanor made him seem at ease even in the heart of one of the most powerful sects. It was hard to tell whether he was actually carefree or simply too powerful to care.
Thinking about what he had said earlier, I decided I would join the Moonshadow Pavilion as a guest disciple. It wasn't a long-term commitment, just something to get a feel for this place. In a way, I felt like one of those exchange students arriving at a new high school or college in a foreign country—except, in this case, the cultural differences could literally get me killed.
Of course, the old man had made it clear: he wouldn't be holding my hand. He had his own business to take care of within the sect. That left me on my own.
Dressed in the standard Blood Abyss robe, I stood out like a sore thumb. Unlike the elegant or ornate robes worn by the other mountains, mine was plain black with a single Yin-Yang symbol on the back. A humble design, but in this world, appearances were everything. And my appearance, it seemed, was infamous.
As I entered the Moonshadow Pavilion, I immediately felt like a celebrity—though not in a good way. Eyes turned toward me, but instead of admiration, most disciples regarded me with fear and disgust. Their reactions intrigued me. Shouldn't being part of a powerful sect command respect?
Sensing my confusion, the old man chuckled and finally explained, "Our Blood Stream Sect consists of two mountains and one underground abyss. But do you know why we're considered a 'demonic sect' rather than a righteous one?"
I shook my head. I'd already guessed it had something to do with the Abyss Mountain, but I let him continue.
"The Abyss Mountain drags our reputation through the mud," he said plainly. "You see, in our cultivation world, a woman can only have one Dao partner, while a man may take many. If a woman takes multiple, the Dao itself rejects her, crippling or even eliminating her path to ascension."
I raised an eyebrow. The absurdity of such a rule was staggering, but I held my tongue.
"This all changed when the Peak Master of the Abyss Mountain created a dual cultivation technique that allows a woman to have multiple partners without consequences." His voice was low, as if even speaking of it carried some weight. "Because of this, the cultivation world isolates us. Even within our own sect, the two other Peak Masters despise the Abyss Peak Master—despite all three being disciples of the same master, Blood Origin."
I took a moment to process that. The sect was already fractured, its reputation stained because of one peak's radical approach to cultivation. And I had just chosen to step into that very place.
The old man smirked, tapping the cane he had barely used this entire walk. "Your choice of being there is truly unorthodox."
That much was clear. Abyss Mountain operated under a matriarchal system where women ruled, and men were seen as nothing more than disposable cultivation cauldrons. Male elders were rare, and few men sought a future within its halls.
I exhaled slowly. So, that was why they looked at me like that. To them, I was either insane or a fool.
Maybe I was.
Or maybe, just maybe, I had seen an opportunity they hadn't.
I had a hunch as to why the Blood Origin Patriarch had suggested I go to the Abyss. If my guess was correct, I had an elite-level dual cultivation talent. I planned deeply, like a chess master, carefully calculating every move. For now, I would play neutral with the three Peak Masters, watching, waiting—until the perfect moment to strike.
---
As we reached the sect gates, the old man finally came to a stop. He let out a slow breath, then turned to me with an amused smirk.
"Well, boy, this is where we part ways," he said, cracking his neck. "Try not to get yourself killed too quickly. I have a feeling you'll be amusing to watch." With that, he strode off, vanishing into the distance without another word.
Left to my own devices, I turned my attention to the towering structure ahead of me—the **Ten Thousand Vein Tower**. A ten-story facility dedicated solely to secluded cultivation. Each floor housed training chambers with an extracted earth vein at their core, saturating the space with spiritual energy. The higher the floor, the denser the concentration.
Two guards at the entrance gave me a wary look as I approached. Their gazes flickered with suspicion until I produced my Blood Stream Sect outer disciple token. Recognizing my status, they relaxed and stepped aside.
Inside, the first floor felt underwhelming. The spiritual energy was present but thin, barely enough to make a difference. I made my way to a central platform—an enchanted lift designed to transport cultivators between floors. With a quiet hum, it carried me to the tenth and highest floor.
Stepping off, I scanned the rooms. Each was identical: bare except for the pulsing earth vein in the center, radiating power. I picked a random door and reached for the handle—
A crushing pressure locked me in place.
My breath hitched as cold sweat broke out across my skin. Slowly, I turned my gaze. A woman stood nearby, her expression icy, her presence suffocating. A seven-meridian condensation cultivator. A sword rested in its sheath at her waist.
My vision wavered, twisting into something surreal—like a drunkard's final moments before collapse. In that fleeting hallucination, I saw myself split in half, her blade slicing through me effortlessly.
The vision faded as she spoke.
"That's my room."
I forced a chuckle, swallowing the dryness in my throat. "My bad, fairy," I said, quickly lowering my head in deference.
Without another word, I moved to another room, stepping inside and sealing the door shut behind me.
---
One month passed in relentless training. My body withered, my cheeks hollowed, and my ribs pressed against my skin. I did not eat. I did not rest. All I did was cultivate. From one meridian, I pushed through to five, the violent explosions of meridians within me shaking the very room.
On the verge of death, I swallowed the pill the old man had given me. A fire dragon roared through my veins, burning away impurities, restoring my wasted body. My strength soared to the peak of six meridians.
Then, I noticed a letter at my door. The old man had found our target—hiding within the Shark Parasite Gang. As I processed this, a loud knocking interrupted my thoughts.
"Hey asshole! This cultivation room is mine! Why don't you fuck off?"
The door **exploded** into splinters. A five-meridian cultivator crashed to the ground, his eyes wide in terror as he stared at me—**at the hazy, translucent skeletal puppet looming behind me, its ghostly eyes glowing faintly, spectral strings linking its limbs to mine**.
Without a word, he fled, leaving behind a Moonshadow Pavilion gravity manipulation manual.
I picked it up, reading as I made my way to Rotten Apple City's slums—where the gang's storage house awaited its demise.