[You have defeated level 0̴̰͈͖̊͋0̴͎̟̣̈́̐0̵̠͉̥̔̊̈0̴̰͈͖̊͋0̴͎̟̣̈́̐ Blood Phoenix - N̴͚̻͑͠ͅu̷̲͕̙̤a̶̡̝̝̦̹͓͌͛n̲x̴̨̗̘̩͂͊͝ͅu̴̞̙̓̌̚èxi̥á (Qi Gathering: Ninth stage) - (D) - Experience penalty due to level difference.]
[Experience Assimilated.]
[Qi: 598 > 1123]
[Feat 'Titanslayer >... E̶̛̛̜͕̮̜͆͑R̴̝̼̼̯̱̞̄̆̈́R̸̢̙͍̓̿Ő̴͓̹̳͔̎͜R̸͍͋̋ ]
[...]
[Gained Rare Feat: "S̶͉̮͇̘͚͊͂̑͑̾̽layer of U̴̳̤̹͙̠̒̾̅n̴̹̪̪͔̘͐k̶͔͔̭͛̇͊n̵͍̻̭͋̃̿̅o̴͇̥̰͒̏̽͜ͅw̷̡̛͕͕͑͌̚n̶̯̱͑͒s̵̼̯͉̟̑͋̽͘" Defeat 10 enemies uncategorised by the system - All stats +100 . All stats +5% when facing non-system beings.]
Jun Li, Lui Xan, the 6 cubs, the fire tigress, the phoenix. 10 kills. It looks like my system was unlocked in more ways than one, Alex realised. If the way his other feats improved were any indication, this one would likely increase the number of stats gained and percentage of total stats increased the more the feat improved in complexity, though he had no time to dwell on the specifics.
He dismissed the notification.
Alex stayed at the edge of the chaos, his muscles tensed, locked in place as his perception pulled the moments around him into a sluggish crawl, time slowing drastically in his vision to capture a battle that was previously a blur. He was fast, but the two before him seemed to give new meaning to the word. Alex watched the deadly exchange as Jin faced the demonic cultivator, wielding his blood-forged axe with an unsettling focus. Jin’s eyes held a white glow, one that sparked something in Alex’s mind—a hint of deja-vu, a half-memory of sorts, vague and without shape. To grasp it was to disperse it. But the feeling still gnawed at the corners of his mind. Something about that glow felt wrong, like a familiar face seen in a dream.
The little demon stood tall, his form both imposing and grotesque—a hybrid of man and creature sculpted from crystal and flesh. His limbs extended into sharpened, blood-crystal scythes, shifting and bending at his will like some unnatural weapon forged in madness. The dark, wiry beard hung over his muscular chest, giving him the appearance of a creature carved from the roughest mountainside, as if someone had taken the essence of violence and bound it within this towering figure. Alex could feel his shattered dantian, pitiful and weak, barely registering to his senses. Yet the spirit beast core within the demonic cultivator roared to life with every pulse, filling the man with a feral, animalistic Qi that surged through his frame, its aura a beacon of bloodlust and hunger. It was as if the spirit of hundreds of beasts lay caged within him, straining against the man’s twisted form, desperate for release.
In comparison, Jin stood as barely more than a boy, still firm before the towering demonic cultivator, though he barely reached his chest. His sect robes hung over his narrow frame and his tight grip around the heavy, coloured axe that stretched nearly his height remained steady. Alex noted the lines of Qi formations along the weapon, the faint hum of power barely masking the fact that Jin’s Qi was a significantly weaker than the little demon’s.
And the Little Demon feels weaker than the Tigress, but not by much... Maybe at the eight level of Qi gathering, he observed. Jin looks like hes somewhere between the sixth and seventh... he observed grimly, I'm guessing he's at the seventh level. Alex's eyes widened at the sight, considering his breathing manual had stated it usually took cultivators anywhere from ten to thirty years to reach the seventh stage, and Jin had only been with the sect for less than one. So that's his true cultivation level... Alex observed. It wont be enough, He concluded.
During his first night, where he'd poured over the sect's manuals for hours, he had extensively studied the differences between levels of cultivation, particularly within the Qi gathering stages 9 different levels.
Typically, a level 8 Qi gathering cultivator would hold the comparative strength of approximately 300 to 400 Level 6 cultivators, but the introduction of world treasures had changed the Empires scaling entirely. It had halved the strength requirements for most stages. Now,
It would take roughly 5-10 Level 1 cultivators to face Level 2.
It would take 10-15 Level 2 cultivators to face Level 3.
It would take 15-25 Level 3 cultivators to face Level 4.
It would take 30-40 Level 4 cultivators to face Level 5.
It would take 50-75 Level 5 cultivators to face Level 6.
It would take 100-125 Level 6 cultivators to face Level 7.
It would take 150-200 Level 7 cultivators to face Level 8.
It would take 250-350 Level 8 cultivators to face a Level 9.
And a Level 9 cultivator would be enough to stand against all others within the Qi Gathering stage.
The power gap between the 7th and 8th levels of Qi Gathering stood like a canyon, an unbridgeable divide requiring over a hundred to breach. A 8th-level cultivator held such dominant strength that a single strike would overpower several cultivators at the 7th level- with strength, speed, and endurance layered far beyond reach. In comparison, the 1st level existed in different realm; a 7th-level cultivator like Jin could defeat a large number of 1st-level opponents in a moment, and an 8th-level cultivator like the Little Demon existed on an entirely different plane, with efficient and unstoppable comparative power, able to crush a group of 1st-level fighters without pause.
That meant the likelihood for Jin to make a difference was extremely low. it require at least 100 of him. Like getting hit by a meteor while holding a winning lottery ticket. In short, unless Alex did something drastic, they were bound to both face defeat and be sacrificed, or worse.
If either the The Little Demon or the Fire Tigress had taken him seriously from the start, Alex would have died in an instant. But considering it would take over a thousand of him to face either, Alex supposed they didn't need to.
Without knowledge of his broken system, his invented technique, and his Dao, at least. Though all three held hard limitations, his skill, Omega, his Dao, and his impossible technique, the Void Web, didn't care for levels or cultivation. They broke everything.
But they wont work against the Little Demon- he's too fast and has a Dao of his own... theres no way for us to weaken him. Unless i get his heart, his brain, or shatter his spirit beast core, it's a waste of time. He'll regenerate, Alex concluded. He didn't have the fine control needed to manipulate the Void Web to without facing an equaly deadly backlash, nor were there any enchanted Qi weapons in the vicinity to repeat the technique, he realised, observing the chaotic battle.
Jin’s crimson axe moved in his young grip with a weight that didn’t slow him. His eyes still holding that soft white glow, a strange light that continued to stirr something deep in Alex’s mind—a feeling he couldn’t place, but one that tugged at him with a vague, haunting familiarity. Jin slipped through the little demon’s attacks, his stance precise, his movements almost one step ahead. He wove around the strikes, his expression calm but with a defiance in the set of his jaw.
The little demon parried with brutal efficiency and ease, his face almost lazy and his crystallized blood limbs slicing in whirls of expertise, the air whistling with every movement. His gaze fixed on Jin, an unaffected smirk tugging at his mouth as he growled, “This is what they send against me? Kids and their shiny toys?” His tone carried a grating, mocking edge, as though he was swatting away a minor inconvenience. The arrogance in his voice was unmistakable—to him, Jin was just nothing but a mere annoyance.
Jin dodged the demons swipes by a hairs breath each time, the tips of his follicles sheared by blades of the little demons hardened blood. Much to the little demons steadily growing frustration. Jin’s laugh came low, short. “A demon who can barely land a blow—should not be so talkative” His voice cut through the chaos, laced with an unbothered calm.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
At his words, the demonic cultivator's face turned dark, a hard line forming on his mouth.
In an instant, the air around them twisted, the fabric of reality bending as the little demon summoned blood spikes. They formed in a dense three-dimensional cage around Jin, hundreds suspended, hovering, poised to strike from all directions, leaving no clear path of escape. Alex’s breath caught as he watched, the spikes rocketing forward to tear into Jin’s body, their impact sharp and unforgiving, the blood-forged points striking with brutal force. Jin’s body staggered, every impact driving him toward the ground, his form crashing heavily under the onslaught.
Alex watched, standing still at the edge of the battle, his perception stretched into a slow, heavy rhythm. He felt his own limits, the restriction that kept him from joining, yet this sluggish pull of time allowed him to witness every detail. Jin and the little demon moved in sharp, unrestrained speed, neither one held back by the drag that bound Alex. His breath stayed steady as he watched, each moment filled with the tension of what he could see but not change.
Alex reviewed the tools at his disposal, of all of them, only his Dao and the Void web had managed to harm the Demonic cultivator. And the void web is out, unless Jin has a Qi-sword. All that's left is the Dao, he thought grimly.
As jin struggled to rise to his feet, Alex yelled, "Jin!, hold him off for a minute!" and sat in the lotus position, condensing his domain within 1-foot's range. Jin simply nodded, without looking back, as reality rippled around the his smaller form as he too began to summon and wield the blood that surrounded him, utilising some haematological Dao of his own.
Reality rippled faintly around Jin, a distortion that spread through the air like the shock of a heavy stone cast into a still pond. The blood spilled across the ground quivered, gathering and reshaping itself, drawing upward as though compelled by some unseen force. It formed into the shape of a young man, his figure defined in dark crimson. From his hands extended long, barbed whips, their surfaces writhing with the same blood essence that had shaped him, each whip thick and twisted. The life liquid, once raw and aimless, now held form—a warped imitation of life itself, arms stretched out, each hand gripping a barbed whip, red and rippling, extensions of his flesh. Jin’s axe flared, the Qi bursting through it igniting the weapon in an burst of raw energy as he lunged forward.
From above, Eclipse fell, its metallic edges streaking downward, a violent gravitational pull driving it straight toward the demonic cultivator, converging on his form in whirls of fury.
But Alex's mind was elsewhere, observing the battle with an almost detached focus.
With time slowed to an infinitesimal crawl and mere seconds stretching to minutes. He mutedly observed the three warriors utilising their Dao's. A boy fighting a man almost twice his size. It reminded him of his earliest days back on Earth being trained by his grandfather, his surprise at Jin's connection to the universe was muted- an afterthought, even. As the sight of the two battling Dao's of blood caused a childhood memory to spring to the surface of his mind.
***
"Begin," his grandfather commanded, his voice firm like the strike of a bell.
Alex knelt on the smooth stone courtyard, a wooden training sword resting across his lap. The morning air was cool, and the early light cast soft angles across the yard, brightening the patterns in the stone beneath his knees. His grandfather stood nearby, arms folded, his gaze steady on Alex's tiny form, focused on Alex’s stance. This was how they started every day— without fanfare or preamble, just calm, consistent practice.
“Grip,” Grandfather said, the single word enough for Alex to adjust his hold. Grandfather stepped back, his expression unchanging. They began the first routine, moving through each motion deliberately, without rush or pause.
“Every strike you make, every time you lift your hand,” Grandfather began, speaking just loud enough for Alex to hear, “it’s a choice. And each choice leaves something behind. That’s what karma means. Understand?”
Alex nodded slightly, focusing on keeping his balance. “Yes, Grandfather.”
Grandfather’s voice was calm, practical, as though he were talking about any other chore. “Not just the act, but the thought behind it,” he said, his tone even. “If you lift your sword carelessly, that thought stays in the swing. And that swing, sloppy or steady, stays with you.”
Alex listened, his hands steady on the wooden sword as he continued moving through the forms. Grandfather’s steps stayed just behind him, guiding his posture or correcting his stance without words. They moved together, the rhythm of training simple and undisturbed.
“The world’s set up in a certain way,” Grandfather said after a few moments, his voice still calm, “and people like to call that fate. But,” he paused, repositioning Alex’s elbow, “within that, we choose. That’s why every step you take here, every stance you hold, matters. It’s all a series of choices.”
Alex kept silent, only giving a slight nod. His grandfather’s words were part of the lesson, no different from a movement or stance. Grandfather’s hand rested lightly on Alex’s shoulder, guiding him forward with a gentle nudge.
“When I say your actions have weight,” Grandfather continued, “I mean that each choice builds on the last. You can’t just swing a sword and call it done. You know what happens if you leave something sloppy in your form?”
“It sticks,” Alex replied, voice soft but certain.
“Exactly,” Grandfather replied, his tone approving without becoming warm. “A small mistake becomes a habit. And habit shapes the future. That’s karma, too—actions repeated, carried forward.”
Alex moved on to the next sequence, adjusting as his grandfather directed. Grandfather circled around him, his gaze sharp but his tone still steady, never letting up on the flow of instructions. The lesson carried on with each subtle adjustment in posture or stance, each brief word carrying the weight of expectation without grandeur or embellishment.
“Some people think everything’s already decided—that they just go along,” Grandfather said, tone neutral. “But as long as you’re standing here, holding that sword, you’re choosing. And if you choose wrong enough times, that shapes you, for better or worse.”
Alex’s brow furrowed slightly, the words simple but pressing. He remained quiet, knowing his grandfather’s lesson would come through as they worked, no need for him to interrupt or question it.
“Every time you step here, you’re creating habits, not just for yourself,” Grandfather continued, “but for the people you’ll encounter. Your mistakes, your strengths—they’re all built here, bit by bit. That’s how karma works. What you do now creates what you’ll face later.”
As they moved through the final sequence, Grandfather stopped him with a raised hand. He leaned down slightly, just enough so Alex could see the full intent in his gaze. “When you’re on this path, it’s not just about swinging a sword. You understand?”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Alex replied, his grip firm. As Grandfather turned back, his eyes held no sign of completion, only the expectation for Alex to stand ready for the next movement. He gave a slight nod toward the courtyard, a signal that training wasn’t over yet, and Alex adjusted his stance, ready to continue.
"Show me the form again," his grandfather instructed with a voice reflecting a calm sea of steadiness. Alex nodded and moved through the kata, his feet gliding over the stones and his practice sword slicing the air with accuracy.
He completed the form and lowered the sword. "I think I'm beginning to understand."
***
Alex sat cross-legged in the present, his breathing slow and steady. He let himself drift into a calm state, focusing on the simplicity of the present moment. As his mind settled, he held onto a clear, central idea—he could shape each moment, decide his next steps. He pictured the exactness of each action, how each one could flow directly into the future he intended.
He had utilised probability to wound the little demon, however briefly. But how could he reach a point where his actions flowed seamlessly into something close to the future he wanted? How could he choose a single moment and shift himself toward it, landing exactly where he intended, even if it was half a second ahead?
He had done it twice before, against the dragon Phurafel's undead revenant and against the little demon mere moments ago. But that had been mostly intuitive, completely random, and somewhat outside of his control. If he stepped forward, how could he attain something close to full control over his next action. How could he arbiter the next 0.5 seconds?
He exhaled, releasing any need to control what might happen. The thought came clearly: By fully accepting whatever comes, I’m free to act without any weight holding me back. This understanding settled over him, filling him with a calm he hadn’t experienced since entering the realm.
He began with a simple thought: each moment had the potential to shape the next. Every choice he made was a kind of crossroads between the present and a possible future. And the crossroad If he could grasp that crossroad, he could move with such precision that his next action would place him in a favourable one.
He could almost feel it, like a flow connecting one instant to the next, no gaps in between.
He thought back to the tiny thread he had seen through his Dao, barely as long as a nail, yet it had stretched out from the present moment, connecting to something greater. The more he focused, the more he understood: everything he could do, everything he could become, was somehow woven into this one thread, here in the present. The thread held these moments together, not as separate events, but as one interconnected whole, ready to be experienced. He didn't have to move forward or backward; he had to become part of something that held all possibilities, just for an instant, as though every choice was already here, waiting to be chosen.
[System warning: User caution is advis- E̸͓͒̚R̴̞̙̓̌̚R̷͕̠͌̐̉͝Ȯ̸͇̘͍̈́̎R̸͖̫͇̋̈́͗]
[Dao safety procedures removed]
He felt a subtle rhythm within him, a steady pulse that tied one moment to the next, linking him to everything around him. He breathed deeply, feeling his connection to this idea grow with each breath. He didn’t need to force anything; he could simply blend into the flow- and the thread- letting action arise naturally from it. With his eyes closed, he imagined himself stepping into the next moment effortlessly, as though he were already there.
He focused on the tiny thread he had felt through the Dao, those few cenimetres that connected him to some distant and unknowable possibility. Alex moved to rise from his seated position and place his own vulnerability against the Little Demon's apparent invincibility.
He stepped through the single thread,
Straight into the Little Demon of Winding Bloods,
[Dao: ‘True Immortality’ - Progress 1.99 > 3%]