An Era of Immortals? Ah, shit, that sounded like a super dangerous time to be around. The last thing I needed was immortals walking about, able to tell I was an otherworlder.

"How did you know about this era?" I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the stone.

"The same way I knew you were an otherworlder. That technique could originally see things even fate couldn't predict—an almost absolute future unless I changed it," he smiled, pride evident in his voice.

Though it sounded like an overpowered technique, it likely wasn't absolute. Otherwise, knowing the future, he could have saved himself from dying. The visions he saw might be absolute but perhaps not too clear.

"Techniques like this always come with a heavy cost, especially for immortals," he added.

"Heavy cost? Why do I get the feeling you don't mean Qi?" I asked.

"Sorry, kid, but just knowing these kinds of things will make your breakthrough to the immortal realm harder," he shrugged.

There was always some secret I couldn't know. It was annoying.

"I don't care," I refuted.

Who knew if I'd ever even reach a phase where I could try to break through to immortality? What if I never became an immortal? That seemed likely, given my talents. Was I supposed to die without ever knowing these secrets?

The ghost looked at me, surprised, then laughed out loud. The sound echoed through the large room, like nails on a chalkboard. It was not a pleasant sound.

When his laughter subsided, he said, "It's because of the tribulations. Immortals are irregular existences that the heavens are always trying to correct. Essentially, they're always in a fight against the heavens. That's how I died. After many battles, I eventually lost, and that was it."

Tribulations? My heart pounded in my chest, and it felt like all my blood came to a standstill as excitement coursed through me.

The ghost must have noticed something on my face because his smile widened as he added, "Immortals don't abide by fate. No one is destined to be immortal; they carve their own will into the world. They bend fate to their will and play with the heavens on a whim!"

Even though my eyes were glued to the translucent form of this immortal, my hands moved faster than ever as I jotted down every word he spoke, etching the expressions on his face into memory.

"Though we won't age and technically could live forever, few live past two or three thousand years. Tribulations come in many forms. For example, those so-called heaven's chosen will, in one way or another, end up a tribulation for some immortal," he said, taking a deep breath as if he'd forgotten he was a ghost. "Anyway, techniques that try to glimpse into the future, change it, meddle with fate, make someone luckier—anything like that—always make the heavens harsher on them. Essentially, the more you use it, the less lucky you become."

As he explained, a certain thought came to mind. It was a wild assumption, and perhaps I was grasping at straws here, but I might have solved a puzzle that had been at the back of my mind.

"How often do these tribulations happen?" I asked, feeling as though an anchor was tied to my heart, dragging me down.

"Every hundred years or so," the ghost answered, and a chill went down my spine.

Yeah, I think this theory of mine was right.

Every hundred years, the Blazing Sun Sect faced one disaster or another. It was like a pattern. This all pointed to the Blazing Sun Immortal being alive, and these were his heavenly tribulations! The reason it was forbidden to speak about it was that during the heavenly tribulation, the Blazing Sun Immortal would be at his most vulnerable!

I was shaken by the discovery, so excited that my mind was abuzz with a thousand questions.

No! I couldn't afford to get lost in my excitement!

With all the willpower I could muster, I crushed any reckless thoughts of excitement or euphoria, leaving only logic behind.

This was not a moment to let my mind wander like a fool. When would I get another chance to talk to an immortal like this? This could very well be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I wasn't going to waste even a second babbling and drooling like an idiot!

Instead, I organized all the questions in my mind into a long list and began asking.

"Why do immortals not come out much?" I inquired.

My theory was that it was because the heavens' will would be more influential, and they were afraid they might accidentally create their own heavenly tribulation.

However, contrary to my expectations, the ghost chuckled, "The outside world is often too boring for immortals. You will understand better when you reach that stage yourself. It will be a pleasant surprise. An immortal can never get bored when they're alone."

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Clearly, he wasn't going to tell me what made being an immortal so enjoyable. But that only piqued my curiosity and excitement at the thought of reaching that stage.

Yes, I could tell he was clearly manipulating me into wanting to become immortal. But I didn't care, and it was working well.

"When I become an immortal?" I echoed his words, raising a questioning brow.

The ghost nodded, "Of course, I'm putting all my bets on you. How do you otherworlders say it? I'm going all in! Or is that something they don't do in your world?"

"Sometimes they do," I replied.

"Though I don't have much to bet, there are a couple of things," the ghost said as he stood up and began walking toward the stone coffin.

"What do you even mean by going all in on me? Sorry to say, but I'm not the kind of guy who cares about living up to other people's expectations. The only expectations I care about are those I have for myself," I said, making sure he didn't get any misunderstandings.

"Of course, I could already guess that. Nobody ever became an immortal trying to please someone else," the ghost said as its hand plunged inside the coffin. "To be honest, kid, the chances of you reaching immortality are slim to none. But I like you. Being stuck here, I've had plenty of time to contemplate what qualities to look for in the golden generation. Since I get to decide who to give these things to, I've decided to give them to you. What do you think of that?"

For a second, I considered just agreeing with him. But he had helped quench my curiosity—I had been like a thirsty man in the desert, and he had given me water. The least I could do was be truthful.

"I don't think giving me those things is a good idea. I'm not talented enough to surpass Foundation Establishment," I said.

The ghost turned toward me, looking more confused than ever. "Sure, you don't have much talent, and you even lack the greed for power that an immortal usually has... But, well, it's not like I have much of a choice. This batch has not been a good one at all. You're the best option I have."

Then he withdrew his hand from the stone coffin to show me something.

What was that?

*********

Xu Tao of the Titanic Blade Sect knew he was meant for preeminence. He was born large in body and stronger than his peers. Even before he became a cultivator, he could easily beat up anyone his age in the village.

Being the only cultivator his village had ever produced, it was clearly a sign he was destined for greatness! Even when he joined the Titanic Blade Sect, he had become an inner disciple. But since then, he had never had that lucky encounter to compensate for his disadvantage against people with better backgrounds.

He had thought this last excursion could be his chance to finally get that lucky break. Something that would finally prove to himself how great he was!

He stared at the dark hallway ahead, and his heartbeat quickened. Many would take that as a sign of fear, but Xu Tao knew he was no coward! He refused to believe it!

"P-Perhaps we should turn back," said a whispering voice behind him.

Xu Tao turned around and saw a young man with shaved eyebrows and an oversized backpack. He was shivering, looking anywhere but meeting his gaze.

This was what a true coward looked like. If it wasn't for the rules of the Sect, Xu Tao would have killed this brat and squished his head like clay. But this brat was useful for now; until he got his hands on a storage ring, he would use this loser as a baggage handler.

Suddenly, a strong wind pushed through the hallway, pushing them back a bit. Xu Tao's feet dragged along the ground while the eyebrow-less loser would have flown off if it hadn't been for the weight of his backpack keeping him grounded. He still ended up rolling around like a ball.

However, Xu Tao didn't have the chance to yell at his companion. Instead, he stared into the deep, dark tunnels—they had been walking for more than an hour, but there was still no end in sight.

What was that about?

There was a rattling on the floor, then it moved to the ceiling, and suddenly, a heavy pressure settled on his shoulders. Xu Tao felt sweat beading on his hairy back, making the robe he wore cling uncomfortably to his skin.

"Perhaps we should return," said the browless coward.

With all the tension in the air, Xu Tao clenched his teeth, his anger boiling over. Without hesitation, he swung his fist back, slamming it into the side of the browless coward's head, sending him head-first into the wall. The browless loser slumped to the ground, bleeding from his head.

"Shut the hell up, you dumb fuck!" Xu Tao yelled.

A loser like this wasn't even good at handling baggage. Because of the coward's whining, Xu Tao had nearly let fear take root in his heart. Thankfully, he smashed that straight out of him.

"I just need to concentrate!" Xu Tao clenched his fists and looked at the dark, looming hallway ahead. "C'mon, you bastard! No longer throwing around wind? Too scared?"

"Where the hell am I?" asked a voice behind him.

Xu Tao frowned. The voice belonged to the browless coward. However, there was something strange about it. It no longer sounded cowering or insecure about what he would say next.

"Hey, you," the browless coward called out. Xu Tao turned around, ready to give the loser another beating to teach him a lesson.

However, when he turned around, he came face to face with the browless loser. But this time, their gazes met directly, and the guy casually rubbed his fingers across his bleeding forehead.

"What—" Xu Tao began to say.

"Why aren't you kneeling?" the browless coward asked.

For some strange reason, Xu Tao's body suddenly plummeted to the ground. His eyes widened in horror as he looked down. Everything below the middle of his thighs was gone—he was left with stumps.

What?

"It seems like I incarnated; my technique worked. Though, as expected, the heavens intervened," the browless guy chuckled. "In a place where heaven's influence doesn't seem to take effect. Probably another immortal's domain—better get out of here. I'm nowhere near my real strength."

Xu Tao was still in shock, staring at the browless baggage handler, who began acting strangely, muttering under his breath, "Also, my personality is getting affected by the remnants of the body and the soul. That kid was a coward and meek—what a horrible combination. I should just get rid of it."