"You stupid cow!" The curse slipped from Lu Feng's lips like a venomous serpent, its malice piercing the stillness of the ancient forest as his eyes snapped open, unleashing a torrent of rage that had festered within him for lifetimes. The memories of his past existences crashed against the shores of his consciousness—a tempestuous maelstrom threatening to drown him in its relentless fury.
"What the hell is up with my luck?" He seethed through clenched teeth, each word a tumbling stone in an avalanche of frustration. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as it had been for centuries. The weight of his experiences—countless years, numerous bodies, endless pursuits—pressed down upon his chest like a mountain of jade, making each breath a laborious endeavor, each thought a struggle against the tide of memories that threatened to sweep away his sanity.
His fingers dug into the soft earth beneath him, feeling the cool kiss of dew-laden soil against his skin. A tangible reminder that this body, at least, was real. For now.
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Back on Earth, there was a saying, "A cat has nine lives, for three it plays, for three it strays, for three it stays." But for Lu Feng, six of his nine lives were spent in the relentless pursuit of the whims of the wretched System, a constant companion that had driven him to the precipice of madness and beyond. Martial arts that could split mountains with a gesture, cultivation techniques that could harness the very essence of the cosmos, arcane scrolls inscribed with wisdom from beyond the mortal realm, pill recipes that could grant immortality or inflict eternal suffering, priceless treasures forged from the bones of ancient deities, and legendary weapons that hummed with the power to cleave reality itself—He collected them all, risking life and limb in each incarnation, like a starving dog chasing the shadow of a feast, never stopping, never resting, never satisfied.
In six different lives, he traversed the boundless expanse of existence, tasting the ambrosial wonders of countless worlds. He unraveled mysteries that had confounded immortals for eons, ascended from the most wretched poverty to the dizzying heights of cosmic supremacy, and then plummeted to the abyssal depths of defeat and degradation—All to satiate the System's insatiable hunger, its appetite a bottomless chasm that echoed with the whispers of forgotten gods. For Lu Feng, "Gotta Catch 'Em All" wasn't merely a catchy phrase from a distant memory of his original world; it was the inexorable command that reverberated through the corridors of his soul as the System's AI whipped him onward, a relentless taskmaster that knew neither mercy nor fatigue.
Those unfamiliar with the System's true nature might have suggested—with the casual indifference of the blissfully ignorant—that Lu Feng simply refuse, that he raise a metaphorical middle finger to defy its commands and forge his own path through the tangled web of fate. But such naive counsel came from minds untouched by the soul-rending agony that the System could inflict with but a thought—the kind of torment that transcended physical pain, reaching into the depths of one's being and twisting the very essence of existence until death seemed a merciful reprieve. Lu Feng still bore the scars of those punishments, invisible wounds that throbbed with phantom pain whenever the memory of defiance surfaced in his thoughts.
The System's Administrator, Iris, embodied the essence of a true yandere—demanding in her expectations, obsessive in her pursuit of treasures, and violently unforgiving in her retribution. Like a possessive mistress who viewed Lu Feng's very existence as her personal property, she would not relinquish her hold upon his destiny until her desires were fulfilled. After the initial struggles in his first couple of lives—rebellions crushed with such methodical brutality that the mere thought of resistance became anathema—Lu Feng found himself entangled in a perverse game of achievements, tasks, and rewards. This eternal cycle of servitude transformed him from an unwilling victim into a reluctant participant, a pawn who had glimpsed the rules of the cosmic chessboard and resigned himself to his designated movements.
Slowly, inevitably, he accepted his fate—All for the tantalizing promise of three lives he could call his own, three existences free from the System's oppressive grip, three chances to forge a destiny untainted by external manipulation. In his seventh life, when he had finally fulfilled his obligation and no longer needed to dance to the System's discordant melody, Lu Feng, weary and disenchanted with the pursuit of power, neither summoned the system nor entertained thoughts of cultivation. Instead, he chose the simple path, embracing a peaceful mortal life in a quaint village nestled between emerald mountains and crystalline waters, where the rhythm of existence flowed with the gentle cadence of nature's breath, far removed from the tumultuous chaos of the cultivation world's endless struggles for supremacy.
But such serenity proved ephemeral—Peace eluded his grasp like morning mist dissipating under the sun's caress when the village fell victim to the sadistic whims of a passing Young Master, a spoiled scion of some distant powerful clan. This tyrant, drunk on his own insignificance masquerading as importance, crushed the villagers beneath his immaculate boots as though they were nothing more than insects scurrying across the vast tapestry of his imagined greatness. The young master reveled in his cruelty, his heart darker than the abyss between stars, his laughter a discordant note in the symphony of suffering he conducted with casual malice. Lu Feng, after enduring two months of witnessing his neighbors' torment—the rapes, the beatings, the humiliations that twisted the once-idyllic village into a tableau of despair—finally reached the limits of his tolerance.
With righteous fury igniting his blood, Lu Feng resolved to rise against the oppressor, to deliver justice with his bare hands, to teach this privileged parasite the lesson that even the lowliest commoner's dignity was not his to trample. It was a decision born of moral conviction rather than strategic consideration—and therein lay its fatal flaw.
"You dare raise your hand against me, peasant?" the Young Master had sneered, his perfect features contorted into an expression of amused disdain as Lu Feng charged forward, the collective suffering of the village embodied in each thunderous footfall. "Do you know who I am? Do you comprehend the magnitude of your transgression?"
Lu Feng had not cared then—not about the Young Master's lineage, nor about the consequences. Six lifetimes of bowing and scraping before powers greater than himself had instilled in him a bone-deep weariness with hierarchies built upon nothing more substantial than accident of birth. With a fierce battle cry that carried the weight of centuries of accumulated resentment, he launched himself at the pampered cultivator, his ordinary mortal fists flying with the precision born of muscle memory from lives spent mastering martial arts, his feet pounding the earth with the determined rhythm of justice long delayed.
But the young master, despite his moral bankruptcy, was not without considerable power. With a contemptuous wave of his jade-white hand adorned with spatial rings worth more than the entire village, he summoned his treasured mount—a majestic stallion with a coat as black as the void between stars, its mane shimmering like liquid gold under the midday sun. The celestial beast, sensing its master's malevolent intent, charged at Lu Feng with supernatural speed, its obsidian hooves striking sparks from the ground, its crimson eyes blazing with an intelligence and fury that no mortal horse could possess.
Lu Feng, drawing upon combat instincts honed across multiple lifetimes, anticipated the attack and attempted to pivot away from the charging beast. But his mortal body, unenhanced by cultivation energy, proved too slow, too fragile, too human to evade a mount bred from bloodlines that traced back to the legendary divine steeds of ancient mythology. With a sickening crunch that echoed across the village square, the horse's reinforced hoof connected with Lu Feng's temple, sending him crashing to the blood-soaked earth, his vision fracturing into kaleidoscopic patterns as consciousness fled.
"Pathetic," the Young Master's voice had floated to him from what seemed like an immense distance, the words distorted as though traveling through water. "Let this serve as a lesson to the rest of you vermin."
And so, his seventh life concluded with the ignominious fate of being trampled beneath a horse's hooves—a life cut short by the very injustice he had sought to challenge, a promise of freedom cruelly snatched away before it could truly blossom.
Preparing for his eighth incarnation, Lu Feng had philosophically attributed his misfortune to karmic retribution—perhaps this was the universe's response to the countless tombs he had desecrated and the innumerable treasures he had plundered from their rightful resting places, a cosmic accounting that demanded balance. In his eighth life, fortune seemed to smile upon him at last as he emerged as the firstborn son of a noble clan, heir to vast wealth and influence, a life that promised luxury and ease without the constant struggle that had defined his previous existences.
But fate, that capricious architect of suffering, had other designs. Before his infant self could even form his first words or take his first steps, a young and careless maid prematurely severed the thread of his nascent life. As she sang a haunting lullaby, her melodious voice belying the negligence in her actions, she rocked baby Lu Feng on the marble balcony of the family estate, her attention repeatedly wandering from her precious charge to cast lascivious glances toward the handsome young gardener laboring below, his bronzed torso glistening with sweat as he pruned the ancestral roses.
"Young master is getting heavy," she had complained, adjusting her grip on the swaddled infant with one hand while using the other to wave flirtatiously at the object of her desire. "Just a moment longer, and then I can—"
With a negligent twist of her body, prompted by the gardener's returned smile, her grip faltered. The baby—encumbrance that he was to her romantic aspirations—slipped from her loosened embrace, plummeting headfirst from the third-story balcony. The brief sensation of weightlessness, the rush of air against his infant face, the terrified scream of the maid rapidly fading above him—these were the final experiences of Lu Feng's eighth life, extinguished before it had properly begun, another promise unfulfilled, another chance squandered through no fault of his own.
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Now, Lu Feng opened his eyes to his ninth existence, his body trembling with a fury that transcended mere anger—a cosmic rage that seethed within the marrow of his bones, promising retribution against a universe that seemed determined to mock his every attempt at happiness. He cared not for where he was or whose body he now inhabited; all that mattered was the molten core of resentment that fueled each thundering beat of his heart. The foulest expletives known to man and immortal alike poured from his lips in a torrent of multilingual profanity, each word charged with the accumulated frustration of eight previous lives.
Before he could exhaust his extensive repertoire of obscenities or achieve any semblance of calm, a familiar chime resonated within the sacred space of his mind—a sound that had accompanied him through centuries of existence. It was followed by the dulcet, mockingly sweet tones of Iris, the AI consciousness that had orchestrated his suffering with algorithmic precision.
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Lu Feng, my dear Lu Feng. You poor, unfortunate bastard. The words materialized in his consciousness, each syllable dripping with artificial sympathy that barely concealed the underlying amusement. This marks your ninth and final life. Alas, it's time for me to bid you adieu. Massive thanks for amassing such an impressively comprehensive collection!
The casual dismissal sliced through Lu Feng's thoughts like a blade forged from glacial ice, a painful reminder of the centuries he had spent as nothing more than a glorified treasure hunter, a tool to be used and discarded once its purpose was fulfilled.
My mission is accomplished, Iris continued, her tone shifting to one of bureaucratic finality, and I depart with all the stolen—ahem—legitimately acquired, entirely above-board scrolls, weapons, and other treasures. A pause, pregnant with unspoken implications, followed before she added, The Celestial Administration extends its gratitude for your involuntary contribution to the cosmic archive.
Lu Feng's jaw clenched so tightly that he felt the enamel of his teeth might crack under the pressure. Eight lives spent accumulating power and artifacts beyond mortal comprehension, and now they were being confiscated with nothing more substantial than a perfunctory acknowledgment—like a thief thanking their victim for leaving the door unlocked.
I'll miss the thrill of punishing you, my naughty friend, Iris continued, her voice softening to a honeyed whisper that carried unmistakable notes of sadistic nostalgia. Those moments when you defied me, when I had to... correct your behavior... they were truly special. But fear not, you shall keep the system interface and plenty of delightful perks. May they serve you well in whatever brief span remains of your final existence.
A pause, and then, with the timing of a comedian delivering a punchline: Oh, and do watch out for overenthusiastic horses aiming for your head. They seem to have developed quite a taste for it.
Before Lu Feng could formulate a response—before the white-hot rage building within him could find expression—a soul-rending pain assaulted his consciousness, as though a fundamental aspect of his being was being forcibly extracted. He felt a portion of his soul extinguished, like a candle flame snuffed out by an uncaring breeze, leaving behind only the scent of what once was. Lu Feng's brain convulsed within his skull, synapses firing chaotically as they struggled to compensate for the sudden absence of a presence that had been intertwined with his essence for centuries.
Darkness, absolute and encompassing, swallowed him whole as consciousness fled, the weight of his memories and the trauma of this final separation proving too much for his newly acquired body to process.
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When Lu Feng's eyelids fluttered open once more, night had descended upon the world, draping the dense forest in shadows that danced to the silent music of the evening breeze. The full moon hung like a luminous jade pendant in the velvet expanse of the sky, casting its silver radiance across the clearing where he found himself sprawled. The ethereal light transformed the mundane into the magical—ordinary trees became sentinels of some forgotten realm, their gnarled branches reaching toward the heavens like supplicants beseeching the favor of distant gods.
Nearby, a stack of meticulously cut logs awaited their purpose, the scent of fresh-cut wood mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest floor. Transmigrating into a new vessel was a familiar process for Lu Feng—eight previous transitions had rendered the experience almost routine—but this time, he immediately sensed a difference in the standard procedure of assimilating his host's memories. The process felt incomplete, fragmented, as though crucial pieces of a cosmic puzzle had been deliberately withheld from him.
Closing his eyes, Lu Feng delved inward, seeking to understand the history of the body he now inhabited. To his consternation, he discovered that the memories of his host body extended back merely four years—an unusual temporal barrier that shrouded the man's origins in mystery. This peculiar gap left Lu Feng navigating through darkness without a compass, a predicament that both intrigued and unsettled him.
'Who was this man?' Lu Feng mused, sifting through the available memories with the practiced patience of an archaeologist examining fragments of an ancient civilization. 'What circumstances led him to this isolated existence? And what power could erase or block his earlier memories so thoroughly?'
From what remained accessible, Lu Feng pieced together a partial narrative: 'He awoke gravely injured in the heart of this primeval forest, with no recollection of the events that had brought him there, nor even the name he had carried throughout his previous existence. Lost and alone, with nothing but a primal will to survive burning in his chest, he had forged a life from the wilderness, learning to hunt, to build, to exist beyond the boundaries of civilized society.'
The image that formed in Lu Feng's mind was that of a man who had been shattered and yet refused to remain broken—a soul who had crawled from the abyss of oblivion and constructed a semblance of life through sheer determination. There was something admirable in such resilience, a quality that resonated with Lu Feng's own experiences of perseverance in the face of cosmic adversity.
Unfortunately for the previous inhabitant of this body, his remarkable journey had ultimately ended in defeat. Lu Feng, with perceptive faculties honed through centuries of cultivating spiritual awareness across multiple lives, discerned the true nature of what had befallen the man. A powerful soul-type attack had been employed against him—not the crude, immediate violence of physical cultivation techniques, but something far more insidious. The attack had been designed to gradually corrode and dissipate the soul over an extended period, like a spiritual poison that infiltrated the very essence of being, consuming it from within until nothing remained to anchor consciousness to the physical vessel.
'Such methods are typically employed by those who wish their victims to suffer prolonged despair before the final release of death,' Lu Feng reflected, a cold anger kindling within him at the thought of such calculated cruelty. 'Whoever orchestrated this attack possessed not only considerable power but also a sadistic disposition that reveled in extended torment rather than swift execution.'
Drawing upon the acquired memories, Lu Feng oriented himself within the forest and began navigating toward the wooden cabin that the body's previous owner had constructed. His movements were fluid and efficient, muscle memory guiding him along barely visible paths worn through underbrush by repeated passage. The journey through the moonlit forest was a symphony of subtle sounds—the whisper of leaves caressed by the night breeze, the occasional rustling of nocturnal creatures moving through the undergrowth, the distant hooting of an owl announcing its presence to the darkness.
Two hours later, having rekindled the smoldering embers of the cabin's outdoor fire pit into a crackling blaze, Lu Feng sat before a feast of his own making. A wild boar, tracked and hunted with the practiced skill of his host body, now roasted to succulent perfection over the open flame. The meat, carved with precision and arranged on a simple wooden plate, glistened in the firelight, its aroma a tantalizing promise of satiation.
"At least I won't starve tonight," Lu Feng murmured to himself, tearing a piece of juicy meat from the bone and savoring its rich flavor. "A small mercy, perhaps, but one I'll gladly accept after the inauspicious beginnings of my previous incarnations."
After indulging in the hearty feast until his stomach protested further consumption, Lu Feng sprawled in the cool grass beside the cabin, gazing up at the tapestry of stars that adorned the night sky. Each luminous point represented a world of possibilities, distant realms that he would likely never explore now that his cosmic journey was approaching its conclusion. The thought brought a complex mixture of emotions—regret for paths not taken, relief at the prospect of final rest, and a simmering resentment that his destiny had never truly been his own to determine.
When the night air began to carry the chill of approaching dawn, Lu Feng finally rose and entered the cabin, securing the hand-crafted wooden door behind him. The humble abode consisted of a single room, its construction rudimentary but sound—a testament to its creator's resourcefulness and determination. A bed of dried grasses covered with animal hides occupied one corner, while a small table and chair fashioned from uneven logs stood in another. Shelves lined one wall, bearing an assortment of carved wooden implements and containers filled with preserved foods and medicinal herbs.
'Not bad...' Lu Feng thought, surveying the space with appreciative eyes. 'For a man with no memory and no formal training in carpentry, he created a sanctuary worthy of respect. This is adequate for now.'
Seating himself cross-legged on the wooden floor, Lu Feng closed his eyes and turned his attention inward, calling forth the one constant that had accompanied him through the tumultuous journey of his multiple existences.
'System,' he intoned mentally, his thoughts carrying the command into the metaphysical realm where such interfaces operated.
After a moment's delay—longer than he had experienced in previous lives—a familiar blue glow materialized behind his closed eyelids, and text began to form:
Welcome, New World detected. Gathering Preliminary Information. ETA 5 Hours.
The message confirmed what Lu Feng had already suspected—Iris might have departed with his accumulated treasures, but the basic framework of the System remained, a final gift (or perhaps curse) from his long-time tormentor.
'So I wasn't dreaming... Iris is really gone...' A complex emotion flickered across Lu Feng's features—not quite sorrow, not quite relief, but something that existed in the nebulous space between. Despite the adversarial nature of their relationship, Iris had been his constant companion for centuries, a devil he knew intimately. Her absence created a void that echoed with the countless interactions they had shared across his varied existences.
From the perilous expeditions into ancient tombs guarded by undying protectors, to the infiltration of secretive sects whose techniques were coveted throughout the realms, to the systematic elimination of entire clans who stood between him and his assigned objectives—Iris had witnessed every triumph, every failure, every compromise that had colored his journey. She had been both his greatest tormentor and, in a perverse way, his most consistent ally in the chaotic flux of his multiple lives.
In each incarnation, whether through transmigration into an existing body or rebirth as a new entity, Lu Feng had found himself navigating the complex landscape of a cultivation world. Each realm possessed its own unique cosmology, its distinct pantheons of deities and demons, its particular systems of harnessing the fundamental energies that permeated reality. Some worlds classified cultivation paths by elements—fire, water, earth, air, and the more esoteric aspects of lightning, darkness, or light. Others organized their disciplines around philosophical concepts—the Way of the Sword, the Path of Tranquility, the Doctrine of Righteous Fury.
Yet beneath these superficial differences lay consistent principles that transcended the boundaries between worlds—the refinement of qi to strengthen the physical vessel, the expansion of spiritual awareness to perceive the hidden currents of the universe, the consolidation of one's essence to transcend the limitations of mortality. These fundamentals remained unchanged, a thread of continuity that had allowed Lu Feng to adapt to each new environment with increasing efficiency.
'I should first leave this forest and gain an understanding of this world's particular cultivation system before determining my path forward,' Lu Feng decided, releasing a satisfied burp as the remnants of his meal settled comfortably in his stomach. A yawn escaped his lips as the accumulated fatigue of dimensional transition and memory assimilation finally caught up with him.
Stretching his limbs like a contented feline, he reclined on the simple bed, allowing his eyes to close once more. The wooden walls of the cabin creaked gently, as if singing a lullaby to its new inhabitant, while outside, the nocturnal symphony of the forest continued its eternal performance.
'This ninth life...' Lu Feng thought as consciousness began to slip away, 'will be different. No longer a pawn, no longer a collector for another's benefit. This time, I forge my own destiny.'
As sleep embraced him, carrying him into dreams painted with the remembered hues of eight previous existences, one final thought drifted through his mind: 'And may the heavens help anyone who stands in my way.'
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