Chapter 24
Toward the Peak or Toward the Grave
Einver returned to his room after finishing his conversation with the princess. He sat quietly on his bed, lost in thought, reflecting on everything he had observed and experienced since his arrival in this new world.
"Well… I've seen creatures I never encountered before, and that was something new to me. But I didn't expect the imagination of this world to be so vast, far beyond what I was used to in my previous world. Then, I met Princess Sun Mi… yet I can't seem to form any clear impression of her. She's a mystery—an enigma. I don't know anything about her strength, nor about that thing that fled so swiftly when we reached the palace gates… Ughhh!"
He sighed softly, pressing his fingers against his temples, trying to organize his thoughts and form a clear picture of all he had been through. But he soon realized that to form any real conclusion, one needed certain requirements: clarification, a general outline, and at least a fragment of the truth. He possessed none of these, only scattered words and fleeting observations gathered along the way.
"So many questions, yet not a single answer… I'll gain nothing by exhausting myself with this. Fine. I'll sleep now. Tomorrow, I'll wander through the city myself and see everything with my own eyes."
Einver lay down on his bed, sinking into deep sleep and much-needed rest. His body was utterly worn from the endless days of travel without pause or relief, leaving him drained to the core.
Time slipped by in silence, and Einver remained immersed in his slumber until night blanketed the world. Then, a faint, transparent violet aura drifted softly through the crack of his door, floating gently toward his sleeping body. The aura took the shape of a beautiful woman. She lifted her hand and placed it lightly upon Einver's forehead. It lasted less than half a second before Einver's eyes snapped open. He leapt from the bed, his body drenched in sweat, scanning the room with sharp vigilance—yet he saw nothing.
The aura had vanished before he was fully awake. He immediately seized his sword, instincts screaming, but no one else was in the room.
Einver's defensive instincts were razor sharp, honed to a near-madness in his previous world. What had begun as simple training for competitions and martial arts had later been forged in the fires of war and bloodshed. To him, humans had turned into predators—beasts competing for food, drink, clothing… everything one possessed had to be defended ferociously.
He had once promised his mother never to harm another human being. But time and again, people had come to him, trying to steal what was his. In those moments, he never hesitated to break bones or smash heads to drive them away. His instincts had become almost monstrous, comparable to those of wild beasts.
What he had felt before waking was no dream. It was a powerful, hateful spiritual presence pressing against him—so strong that his body awoke in a sweat-soaked jolt. And yet, when he tried to recall it, something was missing in his mind.
What was that? What kind of nightmare was I caught in? And why can't I remember it? Damn it… what's happening to me?
He set his sword aside, washed his face, and returned to bed, attempting to think the matter through—but it was useless. No matter how he tried to heighten his senses, there was no lingering trace of energy to be found. It was as if everything had already dissipated. With a weary exhale, Einver closed his eyes once more. His body was far too exhausted to resist, and within minutes he had sunk again into deep, dreamless sleep.
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When dawn neared, Einver awoke early—before the first light had touched the horizon. The world was still wrapped in darkness, though he knew the sun would rise within two hours or less.
He rose, washed quickly, and slammed the door shut behind him, hanging a sign upon it: Do not disturb. Stretching his body, he began a set of exercises before standing tall and retrieving his bow, Moon Fu.
The bow was fashioned from fine wood, its tips made from horn, its back strung with cord. On closer inspection, Einver realized the cord was crafted from animal sinew, just as bows had been made in ancient times. Its body was wrapped in the scaled hide of a spotted serpent, its design both beautiful and imposing. He examined it carefully, several times over, before lifting it to test its strength.
He set an arrow upon the string, his movements practiced and fluid. Einver was a masterful archer, capable of loosing five arrows at once, emptying a quiver of a hundred in twenty minutes or less. His shots could reach well beyond fifty meters with precision. From where he stood, he measured the distance to a red-marked target: roughly fifty meters away.
Focusing intently, Einver called upon all he had learned from Moon Fu. He felt the power gathering within him, forming at the point of his dantian. Energy flowed from there to the pit of his stomach, then to his heart, rising into his lungs, and slowly outward to his shoulder, elbow, and hand.
He readied himself to release, channeling his strength into his fingers to deliver the sharp thrust of the shot. But before he could loose it, the surrounding energy began to gather around the arrow, glowing faintly white.
Perhaps I can control it… even divide it.
He concentrated carefully, guiding the energy in a straight line from his core to his arm, merging into a perfect circuit between his dantian, his muscles, the bow, and the arrow. With calm eyes, he released.
The arrow tore through the air at incredible speed, shredding the red banner effortlessly before soaring further, until it landed upon the roof of a distant house.
Einver quickly measured the distance—it had flown far beyond fifty meters, nearly ninety-five. Astonishment and elation filled him. But almost instantly, searing pain erupted through his body. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach. The agony centered in his dantian, veins bulging across his flesh as blood trickled from his right hand.
His body was still that of a man from his old world, untouched by the blessings of this one. Children born here received the blessings of heaven from birth, strengthening them and preparing them for the day they would open their spiritual seas. Einver, however, had not been given such grace.
He remembered the words of the old man, Moon Fai, and realized he had never once drawn upon the power of this world since his arrival. He had relied only on his own strength, his martial arts, and his cunning. But now—for the first time—he had tapped into this world's power. It surged into his hand and arrow, a feat no ordinary human could achieve.
It could be said that Heaven itself had finally taken notice of him.
He had been absorbing spiritual energy ever since leaving the village, but he had not expected the backlash to be so violent once he unleashed it without a spiritual sea to contain it. It was like using one's bare hands as the barrel of a gun—firing not a bullet, but a beam of cutting light.
That was how Einver felt as he stared at his shredded hand.
According to the laws of this world, once a person reached the age of eighteen and gained the ability to wield power, they were required to awaken their spiritual sea. If they failed to do so beyond that age, they would forever lose the chance to cultivate martial arts or open their inner ocean.
By sheer fortune, Einver had managed to use this world's energy. Had he not, his chance would have been lost forever.
His eyes flared open, crimson, veins standing out starkly across his face. He could barely stand, yet it was a miracle he had not already collapsed unconscious. Lowering himself into a crouch, he placed his hands in the position Moon Fai had once taught him, aligned before his stomach. He closed his eyes. Drawing breath in sharp, measured pulls, he focused and plunged into his spiritual sea.
The white light vanished completely. Darkness enveloped him, strange and absolute, as though the entire world had come to a halt.
Here began Einver's journey into the great realm of martial cultivation—the path of death and pain, joy and sorrow. From here, he would ascend toward the peak… or fall into his grave.
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