When Aedric awoke from unconsciousness, he immediately understood who he was—and which world he had landed in.
Jon Snow.
The male lead of the TV series Game of Thrones—a man whose fate could only be described as cursed.
Summing up Jon Snow's life was simple: anyone connected to him met a tragic end. Either they died prematurely or suffered a crippling fate. Even he himself had been killed once, only to return to life, ending up alone beyond the Wall, wandering the frozen wastelands as the so-called "King of the Free Folk."
Oh, and by the way—this guy was also a bit of a scumbag.
It was precisely because his life had been so wretched that, upon awakening to the System, Jon Snow willingly offered up his own protagonist's fortune in exchange for two wishes.
The first: to become a man revered by everyone in Westeros, washing away the stigma of being a bastard.
The second: for Lord Eddard Stark's entire family to avoid the deaths and disasters that befell them in the show—so they wouldn't end up with just "a couple of kittens left in the litter."
Hmm? No wish involving Daenerys? Yep—definitely a scumbag.
Still, when Aedric saw those two requests, he let out a sigh of relief. The first one didn't seem too hard. Westeros was about to erupt in major events—plenty of chances to build a name for himself. The second only required keeping House Stark alive through the key disasters of the series. That was simple enough.
After all, in the Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber world, he'd had to ensure Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu lived to old age naturally, which forced him to stay in that ancient, internet-less world for more than seventy years. He'd nearly gone insane from boredom.
The Stark family's tragedy all stemmed from Eddard's death. As long as Ned Stark could return safely to Winterfell, the northern lords would never rebel, and Robb Stark wouldn't break his promise or end up butchered. Everything would return to the proper course of history.
Well… most things, at least.
At this moment, the plot had just reached the point where King Robert Baratheon arrived at Winterfell, inviting Eddard to serve as his Hand of the King. They were in the midst of holding a grand welcome feast.
However, because Jon Snow was a bastard, he was forbidden to attend. Lady Catelyn had sent him back to his quarters to avoid spoiling the noble guests' mood.
According to the show, Jon would soon head to the training yard to vent his frustration on the practice dummies. There he'd meet Tyrion Lannister, the "Imp," as well as his uncle Benjen Stark, recently returned from the Wall. Then, on impulse, Jon would beg to join the Night's Watch.
But now that Aedric had taken over, he had no intention of doing something so stupid. If he joined the Watch, how could he possibly protect Lord Stark from dying in King's Landing? That would be mission failure before it even began.
No—he must not become a man of the Night's Watch. He had to follow Eddard to King's Landing. Only by staying close could he act freely and prevent the tragedies to come.
Having made up his mind, Aedric decided to test his new cultivation technique—to see if it was as miraculous as the System had claimed.
But just as he was about to begin his meditation, something occurred to him. He abruptly stood up, searching every corner of the room. After confirming there wasn't a single plant inside, he shut every door and window tightly, sealing even the smallest cracks.
Because Aedric suddenly remembered—this world contained two notorious voyeurs: Bran Stark and Brynden Rivers.
As the "Three-Eyed Ravens," those two were monsters who could transcend time itself. They could observe past and present alike, and sometimes even glimpse fragments of the future.
Fortunately, their powers mainly relied on weirwood trees. Without one nearby, they shouldn't be able to see what was happening inside enclosed rooms. In the show, most of their visions took place outdoors; the few indoor glimpses always involved wide-open windows—or, occasionally, childbirth scenes. Whether they could peek through closed walls… well, only the gods knew.
And in fact, at that very moment, just outside the room stood the two "ravens" themselves—completely bewildered.
Having transcended time, both Bran Stark and Brynden Rivers had become curious about the man who would one day shake Westeros—Jon Snow. They had decided to peer into his past along the time stream. But when they reached this point in history, they were abruptly shut out.
That had never happened before.
"Did he… sense us?" asked the newly ascended Three-Eyed Raven, Bran Stark, turning to his mentor, the elder Raven Brynden Rivers.
"Unlikely," Brynden replied, shaking his head. "Our sight is a gift from the Old Gods. Unless he himself is an avatar of another god, it's impossible for anyone—no matter how powerful—to detect beings that exist beyond time."
"But what if…" Bran hesitated. "What if Jon Snow is the incarnation of another god?"
"Hmm…" Brynden frowned. "Then perhaps we should look further back along his timeline. Maybe we'll find an answer."
Meanwhile, unaware of the supernatural observers—or perhaps intentionally denying them entry—Aedric sat back down, cross-legged, and calmed his mind.
He first tried circulating his familiar Nine Yang Divine Skill. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. No matter how he cycled his internal energy, his strength didn't increase at all. Clearly, this Western fantasy world lacked the "qi" energy of the martial-arts realms—making such cultivation meaningless.
After a while, gaining nothing, Aedric switched to the Postnatal Inner Elixir Art.
And instantly, he understood why the System had charged him so much for it.
The moment he followed the mental formula, he sensed a mysterious energy in the endless void around him being drawn toward his body—flowing ceaselessly through his meridians before settling in his lower dantian, where it condensed into a dust-sized inner core.
As he continued, the incoming energy increased—what began as a trickling stream became a surging river.
By the time Aedric opened his eyes again, faint morning light was filtering through the window. He had meditated the entire night without realizing it.
"It's been so long since I've felt this kind of perfect cultivation state," he murmured with quiet joy.
Sensing the powerful force surging through his limbs and the tiny, pearl-like inner core forming in his dantian, he realized that not only had he absorbed energy from the outside world, but his original pure-yang true energy had also been partially refined into the inner core.
So this was the true genius of the Postnatal Inner Elixir Art—it could assimilate any form of energy, adapting effortlessly to any world or system.
"A thousand points well spent," Aedric said with satisfaction.
He pushed open the tightly shut window, basking in the rising sun over Winterfell—then his expression suddenly changed.
A terrible thought struck him.
He hurriedly flung open the door and dashed outside.