Inside a small room, Wudi Egun lay on his bed, exhausted yet restless.
Compared to Earth, his surroundings were simple, traditional, and unmistakably ancient. The wooden beams, paper-paneled windows, and faint scent of incense were things he had only seen in Donghua before. Now, standing in them in reality, they felt timeless—classic, even nostalgic.
In his hand, he held the jade box from Hall Master Tian. Curiosity gnawed at him. He opened it carefully.
Inside lay a golden jade slip.
Wudi's brows furrowed. What is this? Some inheritance treasure? A secret scroll?
He set the box aside and studied the slip. It was smooth, faintly warm, and emitted a soft, golden glow.
Before he could react, the golden light suddenly shot into his forehead, vanishing into his skin. At the glabella, a mark appeared—deep grey, sword-shaped, pointing skyward with the hilt resting as if on solid ground.
…Sword mark?
Memories and knowledge surged into his mind as though downloaded from the heavens.
The mark was called the Ghost Sword, a symbol every Ghost Deity cultivator carried.
The cultivation path revealed itself step by step:
1. Refine the blood—purify one's blood, turning it into a source of energy.
2. Train the body—use the blood energy to enhance physical strength, endurance, and resilience.
3. Open the Spiritual Gate—unlock the mind and soul, awakening Spirit.
4. Manifest the Spiritual Wheel—a connection between mortal and Ghost worlds, powered by Spirit.
5. Harness Ghost Qi—draw power directly from the Ghost World to fuel further cultivation.
Wudi pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming. What a ridiculously complicated system…
He swallowed. And they wonder why cultivators seem insane half the time.
The cultivation path was divided into Three Heavens.
First Heaven had seven sub-stages:
1. Foundation Establishment Realm
2. Physical Manifestation Realm
3. Spiritual Awakening Realm
4. Dao Bone Sculpting Realm
5. Primordial Soul Realm
6. Dao Realm
7. Validation Realm
Second Heaven and Third Heaven were mysteries, known only to those who had reached the Immortal Domain.
Wudi glanced around his modest room, feeling the weight of reality pressing down.
So I'm in the Martial Spirit World , part of the Mortal Domain.
First Heaven is all I can aim for right now. Anything beyond that… I'll need to reach the Immortal Domain.
He exhaled slowly, gripping the golden slip tightly.
Well, guess there's no turning back now.
*****
After three hours, Wudi Egun opened his eyes, sinking into a deep contemplation of life.
What is life? Life is reality.
What is reality? Reality is a bitch that slaps you.
And what happens if you get slapped? You wake up from your sleep.
In webnovels, the main protagonist always seemed to cultivate successfully on the first try. Wudi, however, could not.
Why?
Because reading a cultivation manual and executing its instructions were two entirely different things.
Reading about nuclear power is one thing; building a nuclear bomb is another.
No matter what he tried, he could not refine his blood. What is going on?
Frustrated and confused, he decided to visit the Disciplinary Hall and consult his master.
Maybe he wasn't the genius he had assumed himself to be.
As he thought this, a heavy sense of gloom settled over him.
Feeling utterly depressed, Wudi didn't even bother changing his attire. Clad in his plain blue robe, he trudged out of his room.
A sigh escaped him as he stepped into the courtyard. His parents sat nearby, happily drinking tea, smiling and chatting softly. They called out to him, but Wudi was too absorbed in his gloom to respond, continuing to walk with the weight of his thoughts pressing him down.
After ten long minutes, he finally reached the Disciplinary Hall. The building was grand and imposing, carved from polished stone and wood, its architecture radiating both elegance and authority. No guards barred the entrance, and he walked in freely.
Inside, a crowd of disciples sat cross-legged on bamboo mats, each immersed in reading their scrolls. A calm, peaceful aura radiated from them, filling the hall with quiet energy.
Seeing them like this made Wudi feel even more depressed.
According to the Ghost Deity Cultivation Manual, this was the Zen State, achieved by Martial Cultivators only after reaching the Physical Manifestation Realm.
Physical Manifestation Realm… he mused. At this stage, a cultivator could manifest their Martial Spirit in tangible form, merging with it to become two to ten times stronger in combat. It was also the step where one evolved their mortal body into a spiritual one, preparing for further advancement.
But the more Wudi thought about it, the more lifeless he felt.
If I can't even cultivate… what's the use of having a Paragon Martial Spirit?
Those with such Martial Spirits could battle opponents one or even two realms stronger—just like the heroes in the webnovels he'd read. Yet here he was, staring at their serene faces, powerless and frustrated.
He let out a long, defeated sigh.
"What happened, Junior Brother? Why do you look so depressed?"
The sudden, gentle voice pulled Wudi Egun out of his thoughts. He raised his head, blinking in mild confusion.
Standing before him was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties. He wore a long crimson robe embroidered with faint golden threads that shimmered under the sunlight pouring through the hall's open windows. His posture was upright, his face refined, and his expression carried the kind of natural grace that put others at ease. A soft, reassuring smile curved his lips—a smile that seemed to radiate quiet confidence.
Wudi didn't recognize him, but his voice and demeanor were enough to suggest that he was someone of higher status. Still, Wudi was in no mood for pleasantries.
"Senior Brother…" he began, his tone heavy with frustration, "I don't know what I should do anymore."
The young man tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in calm curiosity. "What happened? Tell me. Maybe I can help you."
Wudi hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he confessed, "I've awakened a Paragon Martial Spirit—but I can't seem to cultivate. No matter how much I try, I can't even achieve the first realm of cultivation." His shoulders slumped as he spoke, his voice thick with defeat.
"I see."
For a moment, the young man simply studied him. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into hearty laughter. The sound echoed softly in the quiet hall.
Wudi's brows furrowed. His irritation flared. I'm pouring out my worries, and he's laughing? He clenched his teeth, restraining the urge to snap back. Despite the anger bubbling inside, he kept his expression calm, not daring to show his displeasure to a senior.
Finally, the young man stopped laughing and looked at him with a kind smile. "Junior Brother, if I'm not mistaken—you've been trying to refine your blood without using any cultivation medicine, haven't you?"
Wudi blinked, a little surprised by how accurately the man had guessed. "…Yes," he admitted cautiously, nodding his head.
"Ah, that explains everything," the young man said warmly. "You see, we humans are different from beasts. Beasts can draw in spiritual energy directly from heaven and earth because their bloodlines are already aligned with nature. But humans…"—he raised a finger, his tone turning slightly instructive—"we must rely on external support. Without assistance from cultivation medicines or spirit treasures, refining one's blood is nearly impossible."
Wudi's eyes widened slightly as he listened, the pieces starting to come together in his mind.
"To step into the Foundation Establishment Realm," the man continued, "you'll need a considerable amount of cultivation medicine. Use them to temper and nourish your blood—let them wash through your meridians, cleanse your impurities, and strengthen your foundation. Only then can you refine your blood and begin your true cultivation."
Wudi's mouth fell open slightly. "What?" he said, his tone filled with disbelief—and then, suddenly, relief. "So all I needed was cultivation medicine? If I have that, I can actually cultivate?"
His voice trembled with excitement, and for the first time in days, light flickered in his eyes. He finally understood the reason for his failure.
The young man smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "That's right. But remember this, Junior Brother—cultivation isn't about chasing after top-grade treasures. It's about using the resources that suit you best. The foundation is meant to be built, not decorated with extravagance. Choose wisely, or your base will crumble later."
His words were firm yet gentle, carrying the kind of wisdom that could only come from experience.
Then, with a quiet laugh, he turned and walked away, his crimson robe swaying lightly behind him as he exited the hall.
Wudi stood there, watching his retreating figure. Slowly, the gloom that had weighed down on him lifted.
So that was it all along, he thought, his chest loosening. It wasn't that I couldn't cultivate… I was just missing the key ingredient.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. For the first time since awakening his Martial Spirit, hope stirred within him.
Now that he knew what to do, there was no reason left to remain depressed.