[Grade E Skill - Coinflip Collapse (Temporary) gai—]

[Coinflip Collapse - (Active, 10-second cooldown, no duration). A coin is conjured into the air. If it lands heads-up, a small localized explosion follows. If tails, nothing happens. The outcome is unalterable.]

[- ̶̯͇̈́̈͛Error̶̯͇̈́̈͛—]

[Nexus Assimilation Initiating]

[Skill gain influenced by class]

[Error̶̯͇̈́̈͛ - Skill gain influenced by constitution]

[Target Primary Class: ̷̷͎̠̠̖̳̮̿́̏̄͝͠Sys̵̞̈́͆̓̓te̸̪̟͇͕͂mic S—]

[Target constitution: Abyssal Bo—]

[System Message: Grade E Class Skill - Unknowable Sovereign (Temporary, Active) gained!]

[Unknowable Sovereign - (Temporary, Active, 30-minute duration, 1-hour cooldown) - The call of the sovereign reaches all realms. A small ball with 2 symbols on either side is conjured into the air. If it lands on the rightmost symbol, a small localized explosion follows. If the left, summons a self replicating creature from another dimension to fight independently to the user. Loyalty and obedience will be dependant on the entity summoned. The outcome is unalterable. Higher levels of mastery lead to more powerful explosions and more powerful summons.]

Hell no, self replicating? And my constitution can affect skill gain… there’s a lot to unpack there, Alex thought, reviewing the details of his latest randomised acquisition. It had been some time since he’d had the freedom to inspect it, now that the madness of the test had ended. But this had been the second time his constitution had affected his skill acquisition, the first being when he’d attempted to utilise an arachnid skill crystal back on Pyra, he’d received a similar message back then, too. He could not see any practical use in such an unpredictable and chaotic skill, one that would not only conjure what he suspected would be a relatively harmless explosion, but potentially summon a foe rather than an ally. Still, now that I have a better understanding of skills, maybe I’ll be able to alter or combine the one of the future ones, assuming they're not as reckless as this one, he thought, hope budding in his chest. He had risen early that morning to something of a daily ritual, acting in anticipation of his transferring to the realm of endless skills and selecting the first thing he saw at random, not yet willing to face the being that resided in the realm. The test had lasted several days, and apart from the first morning he had spent in the sect, he held only vague memories of his time transformed into a bloodbeast, his skills still operating to transfer his beastly form to crash through the strange realm and select a skill almost immediately upon first contact. I guess that’s not much different from now, then, he thought as a servant guided him to his meeting with the sect’s elders. I won’t be able to test any of my active skills until I have true privacy, either in a heavily warded or isolated environment like the treasury or when I’m out of the sect entirely… there’s no way to tell the extent of their detection skills. If one of them had spatial techniques, perhaps even my inventory won’t be safe, he thought with caution. He had been told by his healer that there were no spatial masters in the sect besides the sect leader, who would not be present, thankfully. The thought had tempted him to consume his stolen blades rather than risk their discovery, but he recalled the sensation of grasping the fiery great sword and thought against it. That blade held a powerful force, If consuming it went wrong, the attempt could bring about an exposure of its own kind. So instead, he followed towards the meeting that would determine the events of the test and his ‘prize.’

***

Alex stood outside towering oak doors, his shoulders tense but squared. The summons had been impossible to ignore, leaving no room for delay or refusal. He adjusted the folds of his robe, his hands brushing the fabric with care. Inside, the elders surely waited, their focus would be trained on Jin—but Alex was still required to appear, ‘as a witness’. He exhaled at the inconvenience, pushing the doors open with measured force.

Their gazes fell on him, though briefly. Alex stepped into the vast chamber, its grand scale accentuated by rows of pillars carved with ceremonial designs. The meeting hall was well lit, the lanterns above casting varying hues across the polished wooden floor. He stopped at the center of the room, his gaze fixed ahead, where a raised section stood. The sect elders sat in semi-circular formation, their figures draped in flowing robes that marked their status. At the center of the crescent stood the tallest chair, intricately carved and clearly empty. Conspicuously empty. Alex's gaze didn’t linger on it, though the void it represented was curious. Whatever its significance, now was not the time to question it. Perhaps whoever was truly in charge of the sect was preoccupied? He would ask Mei or Jin as soon as they were clear of the pompous and annoyingly inquisitive elders.

Mistress Yan Hua occupied a seat a ways to the right of the center, her presence calm yet commanding. Her gaze lingered on Alex, sharp but unreadable. Elder Zhen, seated to her side, leaned back in his chair with a faint air of indifference, as if his attention was a scarce resource. The other elders and senior instructors were scattered across the platform, their expressions varying between interest, skepticism, and the detached focus of seasoned cultivators.

Jin was already there, standing near the center of the room, his figure composed and his posture appearing relaxed. Alex noted how the room’s attention seemed to circle him like a drawn bowstring, taut and waiting. He took his place slightly behind Jin, intentionally keeping himself in the background.

she turned her gaze toward Jin. “If we find your claims to be true, it will mean you have accomplished something no other within our sect’s history has achieved. Do you understand what this means?”

Jin’s voice was calm as he answered. “I understand it was a test.”

The elder beside her raised an eyebrow faintly. “A humble answer,” she said. “Perhaps too humble.”

“A rare feat,” one elder said, his eyes coldly measuring Jin’s stoic frame. “Rare enough to require the right hands for guidance.” His voice carried no inflection, but Alex caught the sharpness in his tone, like poison concealed within sweet broth.

Elder Zhen, seated near the middle of the crescent, straightened slightly. His eyes rested on Jin, but his voice carried across the chamber. “A resource of this magnitude must be honed without hesitation. The future of the sect demands it.”

His words drew a faint murmur from the senior instructors seated just below the elders. One of them, a wiry man with sharp eyes, straightened in his seat. “Indeed. A prodigy of this caliber must be refined carefully. Without proper guidance, his potential will be wasted.”

The elder on the left waved a hand dismissively. “Potential doesn’t shatter so easily,” he said, his tone almost bored. “He needs freedom to grow, not to be smothered under rigid instruction.”

Another elder folded his aged hands lightly, his voice steady as he spoke with a faintly pleased expression. “Hmm. I agree. He requires discipline. Without it, potential scatters like ash.” His smile widened faintly. “But the right discipline—one that allows for freedom. The wrong hand would surely dull his edge.” The elder spoke without raising his voice, but each word felt like a command Alex couldn’t ignore.

“Your methods are outdated,” another elder responded lightly, “Innovation is strength and innovation makes legends.” A fourth elder’s lips curved faintly as they nodded in agreement. “Even tradition bends for the exceptional.”

Alex observed as the instructors and gathered sect elite argued over who would gain such a ‘legendary’ disciple. The gathered administration’s gaze converged on Jin, their words weaving a subtle contest for control. Alex stood still, noting the shift in tone whenever Jin’s name was mentioned. Their voices overlapped in subversive tones, each carefully testing the waters before pressing their point.

Mei said this would be a simple meeting, Alex thought, his gaze steady as it traced the nearest elder’s swaying garments as he protested with passion. Looks more like a battlefield.

Jin’s voice slipped into Alex’s mind, so sharp and controlled it was as if the words had been carved into the space itself. “He’s hiding it, but Elder Zhen’s eyes haven’t left you. Watch him. Carefully.”

Alex’s focus didn’t falter, but the precision of Jin’s transmission clawed at his thoughts. It carried no disturbance, no trail—an execution beyond the reach of someone Jin’s age or experience or level of cultivation. He would have attributed it to his golden spirit root, if the other ‘golden child’ Lui Xan hadn’t been so conversely unimpressive. That’s another thing he’s done that’s not supposed to be possible, he thought, his mind already adjusting, recalculating what else Jin might be hiding.

His response came a moment later, conveyed through Vibrational Silence, a technique from the well protected treasury, its history rooted in an era before the sect’s dominance, when entire nations had relied on its stealth to win wars undetected. Rather than force its way through the listener’s qi, the method synced with natural sound frequencies, embedding itself so subtly it was imperceptible even to ritual formations or barriers. It left no trace of its passage, resonating within Jin’s inner ear as if it had always been there. Alex offered no outward sign, his breathing even, his stance unchanging. The technique’s origin lay in the teachings of the Obsidian Immortal Guard, a vanished martial sect known for their mastery of covert communication and assassination across the empire, before the late Jade Emperor ordered their eradication.

“Are you sure it’s me he’s watching?” Alex responded through the technique.

Jin’s stance stiffened almost imperceptibly. Alex noted the faintest pause in his breathing before Jin’s reply followed. “That technique… Vibrational Silence… how do you know it?”

“Who knows...” Alex’s gaze remained forward as he sent the sound transmission.

His shifted briefly to Elder Zhen, taking in the man’s form. His robes hung heavily from broad shoulders, the black and gold embroidery dulled by wear. Alex sensed the faint reflective light and hum of ceremonial armour, its enchanted metal hidden beneath the folds, its surface pristine and well cared for. Why is he the only one wearing hidden armour? Alex wondered, shouldn’t he be powerful enough to not need it? Or is he scared of something?

Jin’s voice reached Alex through sound transmission, the words threading into his mind. “Zhen Tian,” Jin began, the faintest pause following the name. “Strongest of the elders. Or at least, he should be.”

Alex’s gaze lingered, observing the way Zhen leaned back in his seat, one leg draped over the other, his fingers toying absently with the hilt of a blade strapped to his side. His Qi was the strongest present, that was true, like a star among lesser flames, condensed beyond measure and filling his every cell to bursting. His sword’s sheath was ornate, etched with complex ritual formations, but its placement was too casual and awkward, as though the elder was unfamiliar with how to handle a blade—more adornment now than a weapon.

Jin’s transmitted voice came again, sharper this time. “He’s still young by their standards, only a few centuries. They say his rise was meteoric—discipline and diligence that put the rest of the sect to shame. He once spent fifty years in seclusion, training without rest, mastering techniques most would consider impossible.”

Alex caught the faint scrape of Zhen’s boot against the marble floor as the elder shifted with lazy impatience, the man mumbling about killing them and being done with it beneath his breath, his posture loose and unguarded, his awareness matching that of an amatuers. It didn’t match the image Jin painted. “Why is he acting like that?” Alex sent back, his thoughts laced with curiosity.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“No one knows,” Jin replied, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent that Alex could only interpret as distaste. “He was righteous once. Focused. Devout.” Jin’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. “Then, a few months ago, he completely changed,” Jin continued. “He stopped training. He stopped teaching. Now he spends his days scheming amongst criminals, growing his influence over this world’s underworld, and behaving in ways more befitting of a demonic cultivator.” It was strange, but Alex could swear Jin almost sounded pleased with that last element. Jin hesitated before his words continued. “But his discipline has all but disappeared, and there is no strength without discipline. It was mostly likely his activities that led to the little demon’s capture, though I suspect it was through mere subterfuge and betrayal than any feat of strength.”

“But you said he is the strongest and youngest,” Alex’s jaw tightened briefly, his irritation at his latest enemy now being the most powerful elder in the sect, hidden, buried beneath layers of practiced control. Jin smirked as though reading Alex's mind. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Alex transmitted in annoyed tones.

Jin’s faint laughter followed, a murmur in Alex’s thoughts. “What’s not to enjoy? These fools are tearing themselves apart for me.”

One of the elders rose, his movements unhurried yet forceful. His broad shoulders carried a lattice of scars etched into thick, dark skin, his arms adorned with the twisting tattoo of a wyrm coiled around his forearm as if ready to strike, and his bare chest revealed further skin crisscrossed with scars and inked designs. His voice rumbled across the hall, louder than necessary. His voice broke through the noise silence like the snap of a whip. “Enough posturing. Jin will join me. Only I can guide the strength he carries.”

Jin’s sound transmission flowed seamlessly into Alex’s mind once more, unhurried. “Elder Xun. Beast cultivator. Loves talking about instincts and primal power. He’s direct, but that’s where his creativity ends.” Jin’s words slid smoothly into Alex’s mind, sharp with assessment. “He thinks power starts and ends with force. Look at him—scarred, loud, and a little too proud of taming that heavenly wyrm everyone talks about.”

Alex shifted his weight slightly, his gaze traveling to the elder’s massive hands, calloused and strong. “The wyrm’s not here. Is that because he’s got it leashed or because he’s scared of losing control?”

“Both.” Jin’s response carried the faintest flicker of amusement. “It’s one the sect’s better weapons, with its cultivation high as it is, but it’s chained deep underground. Even he knows it’s dangerous.”

Before Alex could ask more, another elder rose. Her movements were graceful, precise, her slender fingers brushing the hem of her silver-threaded robes. Her attire seemed alive, the threads mirroring the faint ripple of water disturbed by a single stone. She clasped her hands before her, and when she spoke, her voice carried a melodic exactness that demanded attention. “Strength without control is a waste. He needs refinement.” She turned to face her. “Jin. I will hone your potential into something unparalleled.”

Jin nodded respectfully. “Sound cultivator,” Jin said, the words sliding into Alex’s thoughts. “She’s meticulous, ruthless. That’s Elder Ling. A good choice. Her techniques have destroyed entire sects. Ever see an army destroy itself from the inside out? I’ve heard she made it look like art.”

Alex’s eyes followed the slight movement of her hands, the way the rings on her fingers hummed faintly, constantly emitting sound waves as she immediately disregarded him to observe Jin whilst debating with her peers. “She acts... Precise and cold. She seems like the type to discard broken tools.”

“She’s the opposite,” Jin disagreed. “If you’re perfect, you’re useless to her. What she craves is efficient clay. Deadly efficient and mouldable like her.”

“The one speaking beside her is Elder Lei” Jin’s voice followed quickly, his thoughts sharper now. “Ritual formation master. Useful, I suppose, but unimaginative.”

Alex glanced at the elder, noting the rigid lines of his posture, the deliberate precision of the Qi that constantly encircled him in invisible fractal patterns, rigid and unyielding. “Not flexible, then.” He estimated. “No room for error.”

“None,” Jin confirmed. “But if he sets you up for success, no one can touch you.”

The sharp bark of laughter that followed drew Alex’s gaze. One of the elders lounged in his seat, a wide grin splitting his face. His thick arms crossed over his chest, the thick fabric of his plain robes obscuring the powerful frame beneath. His arms were thick and crisscrossed with old battle scars, filled with casual yet raw power as if carved from unyielding stone. “All this talk of control and rituals. Jin doesn’t need any of that. What he needs is strength—the kind you earn through pain and blood. Put him in my hands, and I’ll make him unbreakable.”

Jin’s voice turned quiet, almost contemplative. “That’s the pugilist. Wu Shan. No robes, no artifacts. Just fists, body tempering, and scars. His disciples either become monsters or die trying.”

Alex studied the elder’s relaxed posture, the weight of his presence, undeniable even in stillness. Wu Shan’s brow bore the worn strength of a man who lived and fought on the edge, and his hands were thick with calluses, resting lightly on the chair’s arms. “He’s raw. Direct. Not subtle.”

“And impressive,” Jin added. “His technique is… unique. It’s quite original, so much so that I doubt it’s even truly his.” Alex could’ve sworn he saw a hint of greed flash across Jin’s stoic expression for a split second.

“Watch carefully, Alex,” Jin said, his tone quieter now, though his words carried an edge. “This is the Ben Nui Sect. They don’t care about you. They don’t even care about me. All they want is power.”

Another elder, seated calmly to the side, interjected. “Freedom without guidance leads to waste. But guidance without adaptability is no better.” His gaze shifted briefly to Jin. “You have shown adaptability. Tell me, how would you respond to the right hand guiding you? Who would you like to follow?”

“I am grateful for any teaching, though I find myself intrigued by the art of body tempering.” Jin straightened and turned to face the elder before his words followed. "And I will follow with poise. I will focus on what needs to be done. The rest is noise."

“Very good.” The elder responded with a satisfied smile. “A fair choice. The defeat of one almost a stage higher than you is a victory unheard of in this sect’s history.”

The large rough elder Alex understood to be the master of body tempering let out a quiet huff from his seat near the center. His posture was relaxed, though his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “Victory,” he said, his voice sounding calm but gruff. “If such a word applies. Circumstances favouring survival are not the same as strength.”

The formation master to his side chuckled softly, his head tilting slightly. “Spoken like a man unfamiliar with seizing victory from death. With the difference in cultivation levels, even incapacitated, without the necessary strength it would take only the most masterful of attacks to even harm them.”

Alex straightened his posture. Behind him, the hall doors shut closed. He noticed Mei stood by the entrance with a collection of attending servants, her small form relaxed and her gaze wary as she observed the proceedings from the sidelines.

“Now, let us move on to ceremony.” It was then that the formation master turned, finally regarding Alex’s presence.

“Provisional disciple Alex. You have returned from the trial, second only to Jin of the Golden Root. An unexpected result.” The elder was stern and unyielding, his words cutting.

“You will recount the events of the trial,” Mistress Yan Hua interjected, her voice overwhelming all others as she met his gaze. “Every detail. Leave nothing out.”

The collection of elders’ and instructions hushed as their stares pressed down on him, but it hardly registered to Alex— he had faced worse.

His mind flashed briefly to the phoenix feathers, the blood-stained tiger pelt, and the corpse of the demon cultivator. He stepped forward, aware of every pair of eyes in the room as he moved closer, allowing his domain to engulf their forms, granting him an omniscient measure of their states. They were powerful, each and every one of them. His fingers curled at his sides. Stick to the agreed story. He met Mistress Yan Hua’s gaze, keeping his expression neutral. “The trial started with slaughter,” he said. “The portal delivered us to the tests realm—the forest— but it was full of spirit beasts made from demonic rituals and traces past conflicts. Most of the bodies were missing.”

Elder Zhen shifted slightly, his movement almost imperceptible, but Alex caught it. The man’s disinterest was a practiced mask, yet the faintest shift of intent registered in his posture. Alex forced himself to continue with the same steady cadence. “Jin and I encountered and defeated a blood creature early on.”

“Our diviners registered your encounter with a pack.” The formation master interjected with sceptical features.

“The pack came shortly after, they were rabid, mindless, and driven by whatever ritual had formed them,” Alex recovered quickly with the truth, “but they were only in the first level of Qi gathering and we dispatched them without issue.”

A senior instructor leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with skepticism. “At your cultivation level? Unlikely.”

Alex met the man’s gaze evenly. “Jin handled most of the combat,” he admitted. “I provided support where I could.”

The answer satisfied no one, but it allowed him to proceed. “We advanced deeper into the realm, avoiding unnecessary confrontations. By the second day, we reached the central region, where a majority of the survivors awaited.”

Elder Zhen’s gaze landed on Alex. “Yes, Lui Xan and the others, the diviners confirmed that, too.” The man’s expression was vague, his eyes flat and disinterested, yet somehow piercing. His lips curled in a slight grimace as he leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping idly on the armrest. He looks like he’s already decided something, Alex thought. But he’s still trying to hide his true feelings from everyone else… Why?

Alex paused, considering his next words. He glanced briefly toward Elder Zhen with curiosity, noting how his face remained an impassive mask before continuing. “The Blood Phoenix had already been defeated when we arrived,” Alex said. “The little demon had destroyed it.”

Ripples of discomfort washed over the gathered elders and instructors. Even Mistress Yan Hua’s gaze sharpened slightly, though she said nothing.

“Jin and I watched from a distance,” Alex continued. “The cultivator himself was left weakened and gravely injured with his internal organs exposed and his Qi reserves nearly depleted, though he was still standing.”

A murmur passed through the room, faint yet somehow immensely loud. Mistress Yan Hua leaned forward. “And then?” The Little Demon?” she asked. “His death could not be divined.”

Alex’s eyes turned briefly to his impromptu companion, who stood further back, his posture calm. “Jin struck the final blow” Alex said simply.

Another murmur spread through the room, louder than the last, the details of his account igniting a mix of reactions. Some elders exchanged knowing glances, their excitement barely veiled. Others nodded faintly, their interest piqued to brimming by the calculated feat of the story. “A first-stage disciple defeating an eighth-level being? The stars shine upon Wu Shan’s fortune,” a peripheral elder’s voice carried a faint edge of bloodlust, his eyes alight with greed.

“You returned with the Fire Tiger’s pelt. Explain how you came by it.” Elder Zhen interrupted with a wave of his hand, his voice carrying an impatient timbre.

Alex inclined his head slightly. “The Fire Tiger was already dead when we found it,” he said simply.

Another elder, seated to Zhen’s left, leaned forward to inspect Alex, his eyes glowing faintly with Qi. “Luck seems to follow you, Alex.”

“It would seem so.” Alex met his gaze steady and firm but did not elaborate. For all the endless benefits and access gaining the sect’s favour could bring him, he simply had too much to lose. The risk of his anomalous nature being discovered before he had gained the power needed to defend himself was currently astronomical. Better they think it’s luck than skill, he thought. For now.

Elder Zhen’s lips twitched, his expression filled with poorly hidden irritation. “Luck has its limits,” he said, turning his head lazily to regard his peer before turning to regard Alex. “We shall see how far it carries you.”

“Convenient,” he continued, his tone devoid of warmth, smooth and unhurried. “That my nephew was both one of the few killed by a sword with such precision, and one of the very few whose nature of death was unable to be accurately divined. Almost as if by design.”

Alex turned his gaze to the elder, his expression unreadable. “The trial realm is unpredictable, Elder. We adapted to its challenges as best we could.”

Yan Hua stepped forward before anyone else could speak. “Enough.” Her firm voice interrupted the exchange as she leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto Alex. “You performed well in the trial. Second place is no small feat. The sect recognizes your achievement.”

Her words should have felt like validation, but to Alex It was anything but that.

“Your reward will reflect your accomplishment,” she continued. “The pelt, three months of isolation training and a technique scroll from the my private treasury, one never before bestowed to disciples of your rank. Your servant will guide you to its location.”

Alex inclined his head. “Thank you, Mistress Yan Hua.”

Elder Zhen’s lips curved faintly, the expression more gesture than smile. “A generous reward,” he remarked. He leaned back, his attention already drifting elsewhere. “Let us hope he proves worthy of it.”

Hah, I bet he thinks he’s hurting my progress, I couldn’t ask for a better reward, Alex inclined his head once more in amusement. “Thank you, Elder Zhen.”

Elder Zhen’s gaze lingered on Alex a moment longer before he nodded dismissively. “Very well. We are done here.”

As Alex turned to leave, he caught the faintest hint of amusement in Yan Hua’s eyes, and something that seemed to border on hopeful approval. Judging me, are you? he thought, keeping his face carefully blank. Mei fell into step behind him as they left the chamber.

Jin, who had remained silent throughout the meeting, stepped forward, his voice soundlessly transmitted to Alex’s mind.

“You handled that well,” he said, his tone measured.

“Thanks I guess,” Alex responded though none but Jin could hear. “I almost forgot to ask, what kind of world did you give me?” Alex remained focused on the exit as he made to leave, his expression neutral and betraying nothing. “And do you think it’s over? Will things go quiet before the next test? Or is there more?”

“A good one, your servant will tell you the details.” Alex sensed Jin’s lips curved faintly, the closest thing to a smile he had seen from him since the meeting began. “And no. It’s just beginning.”

His voice carried no inflection, but Alex caught the sharpness in his tone, like a blade concealed under silk.

He left, walking toward solitude, his mind restless with questions about the treasure in his pocket and the world it would send him to.