The mountain greeted dawn with silence.
Mist rolled lazily through the pine forests, clinging to stone and root as if reluctant to let go. Dao Xuan Tian sat cross-legged inside his hut, eyes closed, breath steady. The warmth of yesterday's spirit food still lingered faintly within his meridians, smoothing the circulation of qi like oil poured into an old mechanism.
At the edge of his perception, the system timer hovered.
00:00:04
He remained still.
00:00:02
The mountain's qi pulsed once—slow, ancient, patient.
00:00:00
A chime rang out, sharper than before.
System update initiated.
Dao's eyes opened.
The translucent screen expanded, its surface rippling like water disturbed by a stone.
Stat Increase Detected
Growth Pattern: Standard
Eligible Attributes: Infinity Eyes, Spirit Food
Multiplier Applied: 20×
Lines of light rearranged themselves.
Infinity Eyes: 60 → 1200 / 1,000,000,000
Spirit Food: 1 (9th Grade) → 20 (9th Grade)
Additional text appeared beneath the first line—new, heavier.
Infinity Eyes – Passive Ability Unlocked:
Momentary Foresight (1 second)
Dao froze.
The change did not arrive as a surge of warmth or pressure. Instead, it felt as though something clicked into place behind his eyes—like a lens finally aligned.
Then the world fractured.
For the briefest instant, Dao saw two realities layered atop one another.
In the first, the lantern flame flickered calmly.
In the second—one heartbeat ahead—it leaned slightly to the left, disturbed by a breeze that had not yet arrived.
Dao inhaled sharply.
The visions collapsed into one.
His heart pounded.
"…So that's how it works."
One second.
Not prophecy. Not destiny.
Just enough time to react.
Dao steadied himself, carefully observing. When he shifted his hand, he saw the motion a breath before it happened—his fingers already completing the movement in the future layer, then catching up in reality.
Dangerous.
Terrifying.
And priceless.
He dismissed the system screen and stood, walking slowly outside. Each step felt subtly different now. When he moved, he perceived the immediate outcome before committing fully—stones he would step on, branches that would sway, even the faint disturbance of air as his body displaced it.
The Infinity Eyes did not overwhelm him.
They guided him.
Dao exhaled, forcing his excitement down.
Power like this required restraint.
His gaze shifted to the second change.
Spirit Food: 20.
The grade remained 9th, but Dao immediately understood the difference. This was not about raw quality—it was about efficiency. Waste reduction. Precision. Control.
He turned toward the cooking area.
Today, he would test it.
---
The iron pot warmed over a low flame as Dao prepared simple ingredients: mountain herbs, dried meat, coarse grain. Nothing rare. Nothing inherently powerful.
Qi flowed at his fingertips.
This time, he did not simply push energy into the food.
He wove it.
The Infinity Eyes traced the interaction between qi and matter with astonishing clarity. He could see where energy slipped away uselessly, where ingredients rejected infusion, where excess heat destabilized the flow.
So he adjusted.
Less force. More intent.
Qi spiraled gently, sinking into the herbs along natural channels instead of burning against them. The broth shimmered faintly—not brighter, but denser, as if its presence carried more weight.
The system chimed softly.
Spirit Food Efficiency Increased.
Qi Retention: Significantly Improved.
Dao tasted the result.
The effect was immediate.
Warmth spread through his body, deeper and steadier than before. The qi did not spike—it settled, reinforcing his foundation without agitation.
Still 9th grade.
But vastly superior to yesterday's.
Dao smiled faintly.
"Twenty times efficiency… without raising the grade."
That meant something important.
It meant that when the grade did increase—
The thought stopped mid-stride.
Because the future shifted.
In the next second, Dao saw something that did not belong.
The air outside the hut—one heartbeat ahead—ruptured.
Dao's eyes snapped open.
The explosion came an instant later.
The mountain screamed.
A thunderous roar split the sky, not like sound, but like reality itself tearing apart. The ground shuddered violently, dust cascading from the hut's beams as trees bent under an invisible pressure.
Dao stumbled outside.
High above the mountains—
The sky was broken.
Two figures stood suspended in the air, facing one another across a裂—no, a scar—ripped straight through space itself. The clouds around them were shredded, twisted into spirals by forces Dao could barely comprehend.
One was a man, clad in dark robes that seemed to absorb light. His presence pressed down like a collapsing mountain, his aura violent and domineering.
The other was a woman.
She wore pale silver garments that fluttered calmly despite the chaos, her long hair flowing like liquid moonlight. Her aura was sharp, cold, and terrifyingly precise.
They moved.
And the world suffered for it.
The man struck first.
A casual swing of his arm sent a crescent of distorted space hurtling forward. Where it passed, the sky folded inward, compressing with a deafening shriek.
The woman stepped aside.
No—she had already stepped aside.
Dao's breath caught.
She had moved before the attack landed—by less than a second.
Just like him.
Her counterattack was a single finger thrust.
The air detonated.
The space between them collapsed, erupting into a shockwave that tore apart clouds and split distant peaks. Entire sections of forest were flattened instantly, trees reduced to dust.
Dao dropped to one knee, blood trickling from his nose.
"What… level are they…?"
This was not cultivation as he understood it.
This was calamity given form.
Their voices followed—clear, sharp, echoing unnaturally through the heavens.
"You're still clinging to the past," the woman said coldly. "Let it go."
The man laughed, a sound that cracked thunder. "And let your sect rewrite history? I'd rather tear this realm apart."
"You already are," she replied. "You crossed the boundary."
"So did you."
Another clash.
Space shattered.
Dao activated the Infinity Eyes fully, ignoring the pain as his vision strained. He saw fragments of the next second—attacks unfolding, counters emerging, the precise instant where death would occur if either misstepped.
And he realized—
These two were fighting on a level where one mistake meant annihilation.
The woman spoke again, her voice carrying killing intent.
"This mountain is under protection. Withdraw."
The man sneered. "Protection? From what—your fading authority?"
A pause.
Then her voice dropped, deadly quiet.
"From me."
Dao's future sight flashed violently.
In the next second, the man's left shoulder ceased to exist.
Reality snapped back.
The woman moved.
Her strike was invisible.
One moment the man stood whole—the next, space folded inward and erased part of his body. Blood scattered like crimson stars, evaporating before it could fall.
He roared in fury, retreating several hundred meters in an instant.
"You dare—!"
"I warned you."
Silence followed.
The man's aura flared violently, then abruptly collapsed inward. Space twisted around him as he tore open a rift.
"This isn't over," he snarled. "The mountains won't hide you forever."
Then he vanished.
The sky slowly began to heal.
The woman remained, hovering alone.
Her gaze swept downward.
For one terrifying moment, Dao felt as if she were looking directly at him.
His future sight flared.
In the next second—nothing happened.
She looked away.
With a soft sigh, she waved her hand. The fractured sky sealed completely, clouds knitting together as if reality itself bowed to her will.
Then she was gone.
The pressure vanished.
Dao collapsed fully onto the ground, gasping for breath.
His body trembled—not from fear alone, but from understanding.
That fight…
That was the future of this world.
Cultivation was not about strength alone.
It was about who could act first.
Dao lay there for a long time, staring at the now-peaceful sky.
One second.
That was all the Infinity Eyes had given him.
But after what he had just witnessed—
One second was enough.
Enough to survive.
Enough to grow.
Enough to one day stand among monsters like them.
Dao slowly rose to his feet.
The mountain was no longer just a sanctuary.
It was a shield.
And beyond it—
A world that could tear itself apart with a gesture.
He turned back toward his hut, mind racing.
He would need more control.
Better food.
Sharper foresight.
And above all—
Patience.
Because when he finally left these mountains—
He would not step into that world unprepared.