Emerging from the depths of slumber, Satya found himself awash in the enchanting embrace of a village, where the whispers of a forgotten tale still echoed in his mind.
Abandoned by the enigmatic Lu Yan, who pledged aid only within the coveted realm of Mahayana, Satya stood on the precipice of a world unknown.
Adrift in a sea of cultivation realms, his mind danced with fragments of stories read, where realms bore names unique and diverse.
Yet, within the recesses of his being, a curious memory lingered, a gift bequeathed by Lu Yan himself—a cultivation technique shrouded in mystic allure, known as "The Heavenly Sword Cultivation Manual."
His fingertips grazed the surface of this ethereal knowledge, stirring the embers of understanding.
Though the path to mastery beckoned, Satya remained hesitant, for the universe whispered warnings of hidden costs behind Lu Yan's veneer of assistance.
Trust, a precious currency never freely given, was a treasure Satya reserved for those proven true.
In the depths of his caution, Lu Yan's background remained obscured, and Satya treaded softly upon the shifting sands of uncertainty.
Gratitude permeated his essence, for Lu Yan had snatched him from the clutches of oblivion.
But his very essence yearned for liberty, for a life unfettered by the chains of servitude.
Satya's benevolence soared, ready to offer aid, yet unwilling to be consigned to the role of Lu Yan's assistant.
Freedom, a precious beacon guiding his steps, called him to uncharted realms, unburdened by the shackles of obligation.
And so, Satya resolved to uncover the secrets of this world, gleaning wisdom from the village's embrace, seeking solace and enlightenment within the ranks of revered sects.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
As Satya stepped foot into the village's heart, his gaze, like a hawk in flight, perceived a dissonance between this bustling haven and the verdant forest left behind.
In his quest to blend with the tapestry of existence, he sought to shed his earthly guise, drenched in the remnants of his past.
For the garments he wore, alien to this realm, stained by the hues of forgotten battles, whispered tales of a life misplaced.
In the realm of subtlety, he found solace, believing that a low-key existence bore the sweetest fruits.
Yet, despite his convictions, the village revealed no hidden sanctuary where new attire might be procured.
Satya's mind, an intricate tapestry of tales, sought guidance from the inked pages of webnovels past.
Yet, their pages remained silent, denying him a clue to the origins of the villagers' garb.
Perplexed, he pondered the source of their sartorial delights.
Alas, the cacophony of foreign tongues thwarted any attempt at discourse, for Satya's understanding of their speech was as elusive as a fleeting dream.
A crescendo of agony thundered within his mind, a reminder of his predicament—like a traveler, bereft of belongings, in a foreign land where language walls stood tall.
Damn the webnovel authors, their tales devoid of such linguistic hurdles, Satya lamented, as frustration gnawed at his spirit.
Resolute, however, he embraced his fate, an adventurer in an unfamiliar land, his bag of essentials lost to the abyss.
Phone, currency, clothes, and the sacred passport—all vanished, leaving him adrift. Yet, this world beckoned him to survive, to thrive within its ethereal realms.
With hope flickering like a candle's gentle glow, Satya sought solace in the company of a villager, his attire and unfamiliar speech betraying his foreign origins.
Their attempts at conversation were as ships lost in a tempest, the currents of language ripping their meaning asunder.
Yet, the villager, ever astute, perceived the unspoken desire for new garments within Satya's gesturing.
Compassion ignited within, guiding the villager's finger towards the humble abode of Shi Ren, the weaver of cloth and fashion.
In silent gratitude, Satya's hands weaved a tale of thanks, a dance of appreciation, before parting ways with the villager.
Oblivious to the magnitude of this encounter, the villager returned to his labors, consumed by the ebb and flow of everyday life.
Emboldened by the villager's guidance, Satya found himself before Shi Ren's dwelling—an unassuming facade blending seamlessly with the village's tapestry.
His heart, aflutter with anticipation, trembled like the fluttering wings of a delicate butterfly.
Resolute, he raised his hand, summoning the courage to knock upon the door, unaware of the transformative journey that awaited him within.