The world did not welcome Lin Zhi with open arms. It tested him.
The initial, overwhelming rush of power that had accompanied his rebirth—the cosmic awareness of Raphael, the boundless energy of Beelzebuth, the absolute dominion of Uriel—had settled into a low, constant hum in his veins. He was no longer drowning in sensation; he was swimming in it. But the ocean, he was learning, was full of predators.
He had named himself Lin Zhi, a tether to the soul he once was, a nineteen-year-old Earthling who loved a story. But here, in this realm of soaring peaks piercing mist-shrouded heavens and forests where the trees themselves seemed to breathe with latent spiritual energy, a name was not an identity. It was a claim. And unproven claims were invitations for challenge.
His first lesson came not from a mighty beast or a sneering cultivator, but from the land itself. The template of Rimuru Tempest had granted him a body of supreme adaptability and a core of immense power, but it had not granted him context. The spiritual energy of this world, which the locals called *Qi*, was both familiar and alien. It was denser, wilder, and more *alive* than the magicalules of his template's memory. It resisted passive absorption. It demanded to be conquered, to be understood and mastered.
"**Analysis complete,**" Raphael's voice, a serene echo in the sanctum of his mind, reported. "**Ambient energy classification: 'Heavenly Qi.' Composition includes aggressive yang elements and mercurial yin currents not present in standard magicalule models. Direct conversion to internal energy stores is inefficient at 34%. Proposal: Deploy 'Predator' to isolate and analyze pure Qi samples. Simultaneously, deploy 'Universal Sense' to map local energy ley lines and patterns.**"
'Understood,' Lin Zhi thought back, his slime-born instincts merging seamlessly with his human cognition. He stood in a clearing, his form—the spitting image of Rimuru's human guise with his blue-black hair and androgynous beauty—seemingly relaxed. But within, he was a hive of activity.
A portion of his slime body, invisible to the naked eye, extended into the soil and air. **Beelzebuth: Predator.** It wasn't consuming; it was tasting, analyzing. At the same time, his perception exploded outward. **Uriel: Universal Sense.** The world painted itself in a new spectrum. He saw the flow of Qi like brilliant, rushing rivers of light underground, and softer breezes of it in the air. He felt the latent consciousness of the thousand-year-old trees, the simmering fire-Qi in the volcanic rocks to the east, the deep, cold water-Qi from a hidden aquifer.
He also felt the other presences.
A pack of Emerald-Scaled Wolves, each the size of a horse, their cores burning with bestial wind-aspected Qi, were circling downwind. They had sensed the strange, potent, and seemingly unguarded energy signature he emitted—a cocktail of demonic majesty and slime purity that confused their senses but ignited their hunger.
"**Threat assessment: Medium. Seven entities. Average combat power approximates A-rank lesser magical beasts. Leader exhibits minor elemental manipulation. Suggested response: Non-lethal deterrence utilizing 'Spatial Domination' sub-skill to demonstrate power disparity.**"
Lin Zhi considered it. Back on Earth, the idea of facing a pack of giant wolves would have been pure terror. Now, it was a logistical puzzle. He could annihilate them with a thought. He could freeze them in a timeless prison. He could consume them and add their wind attributes to his repertoire. But Raphael's suggestion was the most Rimuru-like: demonstrate overwhelming strength to avoid unnecessary conflict.
He decided on a different approach. He needed to practice. He needed to *feel* this world's power with his own hands, not just through ultimate skills.
As the alpha wolf lunged, a silent streak of jade and fang, Lin Zhi moved. He didn't teleport. He pushed off the ground with a burst of physical strength his human form shouldn't possess, his body blurring. The template had optimized him. He let the wolf's Qi brush against his own, feeling its structure—sharp, chaotic, cutting.
"**Analyzing enemy Qi pattern. Replication feasible.**"
Instead of using a skill, Lin Zhi willed his own internal energy to mimic the pattern. He swung his hand, not with a blade, but with a focused gust of wind that solidified into a crescent of emerald light. It wasn't as refined as the wolf's natural attack, but it was ten times larger. It slammed into the alpha mid-air, not cutting, but bludgeoning it with a concussive wave of its own element, sending it tumbling with a yelp.
The pack halted, confused. Their prey had just used their signature power, but purer, stronger.
Lin Zhi landed softly. "I mean no harm," he said, his voice calm. He wasn't sure if they understood language, but he imbued his words with a pulse of soothing, authoritative spiritual pressure—a gentle application of **Demon Lord's Haki**.
The wolves, their primal minds overridden by a deep, instinctual fear and respect, lowered their heads, whined, and melted back into the forest.
"**Conflict resolved. Data on local Qi manipulation acquired. Replication efficiency for wind-aspected patterns now at 89% and improving.**"
It was a small victory, but a crucial one. He was learning to interface. He was no longer just a repository of otherworldly power; he was becoming a practitioner of this world's arts.
Days turned into weeks. Lin Zhi became a ghost in the wilderness, a blue-haired phantom studying the ecosystem of power. He used Predator to taste the essence of spiritual herbs, learning their properties. He used Universal Sense to observe distant cultivators from the safety of miles away, watching them train, spar, and meditate. He saw them channel Qi in complex cycles through meridian paths, saw them unleash techniques with shouted names and intricate hand seals.
His template gave him a monumental advantage. They had to painstakingly gather Qi, purify it, and cycle it for years to strengthen their meridians and dantian—their energy core. Lin Zhi's body, modeled on a Spiritual Lifeform and a True Demon Lord, had no such bottlenecks. His "meridians" were boundless; his core was the King of Wisdom, Raphael itself. He could absorb Qi directly into his slime body and have Raphael instantly optimize it. What took them decades, he could simulate in hours.
But he respected the art. The elegance of a sword dance that wove water Qi into a defensive net. The raw power of a fist technique that concentrated earth Qi into a single, mountain-shattering blow. He began to practice, not to copy, but to comprehend. In a hidden valley, he would move through forms, his blue hair flowing, his hands tracing patterns in the air as he commanded elements. A swirl of flame danced on his palm, not from **Covenant King Uriel**, but from his own mastered fire Qi. A shield of shimmering rock rose from the earth, a product of understood earth-nature, not **Absolute Defense**.
He was building a bridge. On one side stood the cosmic, rule-breaking powers of a Demon Lord. On the other, the structured, profound path of cultivation. He would be the arch that connected them.
One evening, as he meditated atop a cliff watching two moons rise—a sight that still filled his Earth-born heart with wonder—Universal Sense pinged a new alert.
"**Detection: High-intensity combat. Distance: 23 Li southwest. Participants: One human female cultivator (late Foundation Establishment stage, water/wood affinity, severely depleted). Multiple entities: Bloodshadow Jackals (mutated, Qi-absorption variant, pack of twelve). Probability of cultivator's survival without intervention: 2.1%. Ethical subroutine suggests assessment.**"
Lin Zhi's eyes opened. For weeks, he had observed but not interacted. This was different. A 2.1% chance was a death sentence. The image of the young cultivator—a girl in tattered blue robes, her face pale but determined as she backed against a giant tree, her sword gleaming with fading water-light—flashed in his mind through the sensory link.
He didn't hesitate. Back on Earth, he might have frozen. But he was Lin Zhi now, and he possessed the power to change outcomes. In a flash of spatial distortion—a simple, efficient use of mobility he'd developed—he vanished from the cliff.
He reappeared at the edge of the clearing, silent as moonlight. The scene was brutal. The Bloodshadow Jackals were nightmare creatures, their fur like clotting blood, eyes glowing with a hungry violet light. They didn't just tear flesh; their bites siphoned Qi, draining their prey's vitality and strength. The young woman was on her last legs, a deep gash on her arm leaching her energy as she desperately parried snapping jaws.
"**Target the threads,**" Raphael advised coolly. "**Each jackal is connected to a central Qi-draining field generated by the alpha. Sever the connections.**"
Lin Zhi didn't draw a weapon. He raised a hand and made a gentle pulling motion. Using his understanding of spatial forces and Qi manipulation in tandem, he didn't attack the jackals. He *plucked* the invisible, vampiric threads connecting them to their prey and to each other.
There was no sound, but the effect was immediate. The violet glow in the jackals' eyes sputtered and died. The draining field collapsed. The pack stumbled, disoriented, their stolen energy cut off.
The woman gasped, feeling the sinister pull vanish. Her eyes, wide with exhaustion and shock, found Lin Zhi standing at the tree line. In the dappled moonlight, with his unusual hair and serene, powerful presence, he looked less like a fellow cultivator and more like a spirit of the forest itself.
The alpha jackal, enraged, turned its fury on the new intruder. It launched itself at Lin Zhi, a bolt of crimson hatred.
Lin Zhi didn't move. He simply looked at it.
"**Spatial Lock: Localized.**"
The jackal froze in mid-air, trapped in a cube of solidified space a foot from Lin Zhi's face. It hung there, snarling silently, utterly impotent.
To the young woman, it was a display of power so profound and casual it stole her breath. No hand seals, no shouted technique, not even a visible surge of Qi. He had just *stopped* a ferocious mutant beast with a glance.
Lin Zhi then looked at the pack. He released a fraction—a mere whisper—of his spiritual pressure. It wasn't the full weight of a Demon Lord, but it was the authority of a being far beyond this forest, this world, perhaps this reality. It was the quiet, undeniable force of a sovereign.
The jackals, every instinct screaming of apex predators turned prey, whimpered, tucked their tails, and fled into the shadows.
Lin Zhi dissipated the Spatial Lock, letting the alpha drop unharmed to the ground. It scrambled up and fled after its pack without a backward glance.
Silence returned to the clearing, broken only by the woman's ragged breathing.
Lin Zhi turned to her. He approached slowly, his expression neutral. Up close, he could see she was young, perhaps his apparent age, with features marked by grit and fear. Her robes bore the insignia of a sect—a curling wave around a pine tree.
"Your arm," he said, his voice quiet but clear. He knelt, ignoring her flinch. He placed a hand near the wound, not touching it. A soft, aquamarine light emanated from his palm—a basic water-aspected healing technique Raphael had synthesized from observed data, powered by his own immense, pure Qi.
The woman watched, stunned, as the bleeding stopped, the pain receded, and the torn flesh began to knit together at a visible rate. Her depleted dantian even felt a gentle, warming influx of clean, restorative energy.
"Who…" she stammered, her voice hoarse. "Who are you, Senior?"
Senior. The term of respect for a powerful, unknown cultivator.
Lin Zhi finished the healing and stood. He looked down at her, the twin moons framing his silhouette. He had entered this world as a template, a fan's dream. He had survived its initial trials as a student of its power. Now, he had taken his first active step within its human drama.
He gave her a small, enigmatic smile, one that held the wisdom of Raphael and the ghost of a nineteen-year-old who loved a good story.
"My name," he said, "is Lin Zhi."
And with that, the ghost of the wilderness took on a name in the world of men. The crucible had shaped him. Now, the forge of human interaction awaited. Chapter 2 of his story had just begun.