His mother had named him Midas, hoping that everything he touched would turn to gold. But in this world, gold held a different meaning. But let's not dwell on that for now. At this moment, Midas found himself in quite a predicament. The diligent yet average cultivator embarked on a grand quest to find a legendary artifact known as the Tears of Amara. Rumor had it that these tears could enhance a person's cultivation potential and help them break through bottlenecks.
Midas had been stuck at the Peak of the Qi Condensation Realm for the past four years. While it wasn't uncommon for twenty-year-olds to still be at this stage, those who remained were generally considered to have mediocre talent. Midas knew he wasn't a prodigy, but he believed he possessed some degree of cultivating talent. At least he had achieved success in body tempering. Among the outer sect disciples at the Star Crescent Sect, only six of them, including Midas, had managed to achieve a copper body. This accomplishment had spared him from being easily defeated in daily sparring matches or expelled from the sect. However, Midas understood that he couldn't rely solely on his Copper body to secure his position within the sect.
He needed a breakthrough of some sort. And that's how Midas found himself in a dimly lit cave, crouched before a shimmering oval-shaped mirror. He desperately hoped it was the Tears of Amara and not some cursed artifact that would transform him into a frog or, even worse, a cow. Suddenly, the beef jerky he had devoured earlier that morning didn't sit well in his stomach.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"Well, here goes nothing," Midas muttered, bending down to pick up the artifact. As soon as he touched it, a blinding light engulfed him, followed by darkness.
"Ugh," Midas groaned as he forced his eyes open. Grimacing, he attempted to sit up. He felt as if he had been trampled by a horse or his burly best friend, Reefer, whose physique contradicted his name. "I don't remember that slimy merchant mentioning anything about passing out," he thought. Belatedly, Midas took stock of himself—two legs, check; two arms, check; and the other... well, appendages down there, check.
Leaning against the mossy walls of the cave, Midas's senses heightened. Mossy? This wasn't the same cave from the Hidden Depth Forest. He turned around, only to come face to face with a hairy torso, rising up to a slumbering giant of a face. It was the face of something that belonged in the seventh circle of hell.
"Shit," Midas swore loudly, perhaps a bit too loudly. The beast stirred.
With a deep breath, Midas instinctively reached for the qi that flowed within him—the vital energy that fueled cultivation. Instead, letters materialized in front of his face.
"NEW USER DETECTED. INTEGRATING NEW USER WITHIN THE SYSTEM."
"What?!" Midas wondered, dumbstruck.
One thing was clear: he certainly wasn't in Erideria anymore.