Shenglu berated himself, the words echoing in his head as if someone else was hurling insults at him. I’m such a dumb fuck. How long had it been? Days? Weeks? He had no idea. Time blurred when trapped in a pitch-black coffin with no sense of day or night. The real kicker, though, was how long it took him to realize he could’ve used that strange "sense" he was already using to peek outside the coffin—on himself.

Why didn’t I think of that earlier? It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. He could see the outline of the floating island outside, the craggy cliffs and jagged trees hovering in the nothingness, so it stood to reason he should’ve been able to sense his own body, too. Dumb. Fucking. Idiot.

Now, he was concentrating hard, eyes shut, mind honed in. He breathed steadily, in and out, forcing his erratic thoughts to still. The process was simple: focus, spread the sense over himself just like he had with the outside world. It started slow, but soon he could see the vague outline of his body—his limbs, his torso, his head. His lips curled into a small, satisfied grin. Finally, some progress. But just as quickly, that grin vanished. His stomach turned as he caught a glimpse inside his body, way past the skins.

His first instinct was to recoil. His lungs were expanding and contracting like balloons, blood vessels were pumping through his muscles like rivers, and his bones, solid and unmoving, stood like pillars holding everything together. But there was something else, something out of place. In his chest, nestled right inside his beating heart, was a glowing stone.

"Fuck, what the hell is that?" Shenglu muttered under his breath.

It was like no stone he'd ever seen—shaped like a quartz crystal, smooth and jagged at once, with a kaleidoscope of colors shifting along its surface, from vibrant blues to deep purples, to a strange, mystical green. It pulsed with each beat of his heart, almost as if it was part of his very life force. I have a feeling that if this thing breaks… I won't just die. My whole existence will disappear.

That certainty hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. He didn’t know how or why he knew this, but the truth of it resonated in his bones. This stone was more than just a mystical trinket lodged in his chest—it was a core, an anchor that held his very being together. If it shattered, he wouldn’t just cease to live; he would cease to be.

And then he saw it—the tree.

Inside the quartz, among the swirling colors and glowing light, there was an image. No, not an image—a tree. A faint outline at first, but unmistakable. An evergreen, its branches stretching in all directions. Its roots, anchored into the quartz, seemed to pulse faintly, as if feeding off something—feeding off him. A chill ran down Shenglu’s spine, his skin prickling with unease. What the hell was that tree doing inside him?

Before he could ponder further, the tree began to shimmer, and then—

Agony.

His head split open, not physically, but it might as well have been. The pain was instantaneous, like his skull was being cleaved apart from the inside. And then came the memories. They weren’t his, yet they stormed into his mind with all the force of a battering ram, merciless and unrelenting. Every fragment that was recollected, every image, every moment that didn’t belong to him was shoved violently into his consciousness.

Shenglu’s story began with a mother’s gentle embrace, a woman cradling him in her arms moments after his birth, her touch filled with tenderness but also an unspoken weight. She knew the life that awaited her son—one of struggle, expectation, and the relentless pursuit of power. Even as a child, Shenglu was acutely aware of his place within the vast, ancient halls of the Immortal Heukrin Family, one of the Five Great Clans that ruled Jangsu as well as one of the prominent mammoth within Vaelion. His lineage was illustrious, a bloodline of immortals revered across the lands, but the weight of that heritage pressed down on him like a mountain.

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The Heukrin family was built on competition, where only strength and achievement determined your place in the hierarchy. Shenglu’s early life was defined by this reality. Even as a boy, he faced constant trials—both martial and mental—meant to forge him into a weapon of the clan. While other children learned to walk, Shenglu trained under the harsh tutelage of his elders, honing his martial prowess and developing a mind as sharp as any blade. His days were filled with grueling lessons, his nights with silent battles against his own insecurities and the fear of failure.

He outlasted and outperformed those with far more resources and privileges, tenaciously carving a place for himself among the most powerful. His talent was undeniable, but more than talent, it was his sheer will that set him apart. He fought not just for power, but for the right to lead, for the right to call himself the 14th Ancestor. The title was not given to him; it was earned, with blood, sweat, and unrelenting resolve. Even then, as the best of his generation, Shenglu knew his journey was far from complete.

The moment he reached the apex of his power, Shenglu made a decision that shocked the entire clan. Even with his title, Shenglu knew that he was but a single frog in a well, looking up at the vast, immeasurable sky of his clan’s ancient legacy. Recognizing the need to transcend his limits, he chose to seal himself away, aiming to fully mature the evergreen within his soul—a gamble, a sacrifice, to ensure his power would one day rival the greatest ancestors of his clan’s history.

The memories ripped through him, each one sharp as a blade, cutting into his consciousness. Shenglu gasped, hands clutching his head, trying to hold on to some semblance of himself as the memories burned their way into his soul. The evergreen tree inside the quartz glowed brighter and brighter, reacting to every memory being assimilated. It became more prominent, its roots spreading throughout the crystal like veins, its branches pulsing in time with his heart.

He screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the coffin, but there was no one to hear him. It felt like hours, days, an eternity, before the pain began to ebb away, leaving him gasping for air. His chest heaved as if he had just surfaced from drowning. Slowly, he unclenched his fists and forced himself to breathe, to calm down.

I'm inside of my own fucking creation.

That single thought grounded him, bringing him back to reality. How did he know? Well, The World of "Vaelion" was a virtual RPG game he and four other core members, used to be his friends and colleagues, had created. Shenglu poured his soul into that game, painstakingly programmed every bit and dust. A game that had taken the gaming world by storm in his old life, renowned for its player freedom, depth, and endless possibilities. And here he was, somehow inside it.

The absurdity of it all... Shenglu couldn’t help himself. He laughed. At first, it was a soft chuckle, but it grew louder, crazier, until he was laughing like a maniac, the sound bouncing off the coffin walls. His whole body shook with the insanity of it. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was real. He could feel the air in his lungs, the stone in his chest, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

But after the laughter subsided, his thoughts turned cold and calculating. If I’m in Vaelion, I’ll take full advantage of it. He knew this world. Every inch of it. Every secret, every treasure, every loophole that existed. He had designed it, after all. The places of power, the sacred treasures, the hidden elixirs—he knew them all. I’ll use all of it.

But first things first: he had to get out of this damn coffin.

Shenglu’s mind shifted gears. His thoughts turned to the quartz stone in his chest, the evergreen tree pulsing within it. If this stone was the anchor to his existence in Vaelion, then it must also be the key to his power here. Mana? No, in Vaelion, we call it esse—the essence of heaven and nature.

He focused, gathering esse from the air around him, from the very fabric of the world he had created. It took only moments for him to feel it—like a ripple in a pond, the esse brushed against his consciousness, surrounding him. He coaxed it closer, like luring a stray cat, careful not to scare it away, letting it flow gently into him. The evergreen tree in his chest responded, its roots spreading deeper, drinking in the essence.

Feed the quartz. Feed the tree, wake it up. The esse flowed through him, spreading through his veins, filling every corner of his body, charging him with energy. He could feel his body humming with power, every cell vibrating with the raw force of the world around him.

And then—

Boom!

The lid of the coffin shattered, pieces flying in every direction as smoke billowed out, curling into the air like ghostly tendrils. Shenglu sat up slowly, the cold air of the outside world hitting his skin for the first time in what felt like an eternity. His eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation as the smoke cleared.

"Finally," he muttered, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. His heart, pulsing with the glow of the quartz, felt like it was ready to take on anything.

Shenglu was out.