As Lu Feng emerged from the depths of slumber, the early morning sun cast its gentle light through the canopy of ancient trees, illuminating the wooden cabin with a warm, ethereal glow. The soft rays danced across the rustic wooden beams, infusing the air with a sense of serenity and tranquility that belied the tumultuous journey that awaited him. Motes of dust hung suspended in the golden beams, like celestial particles frozen in time, each one a tiny universe unto itself.
His throat parched from the night's rest, Lu Feng's gaze fell upon the large wooden bucket nestled in the corner of the cabin. Filled with water from the nearby stream, its crystal-clear surface reflected the dappled light filtering through the trees, creating a mosaic of luminescence that rippled with each subtle movement of air. The water's surface mirrored the world above it—fragmented, beautiful, and ever-changing—much like Lu Feng's own existence across his many lives.
He cupped his hands and dipped them into the cool liquid, bringing the refreshing water to his lips. Each sip seemed to wash away not just his thirst but also the lingering vestiges of dreams that clung to his consciousness like morning mist to valley floors.
After quenching his thirst, he stepped out of the cabin, and the fresh air enveloped him, carrying the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers and the earthy aroma of damp soil after a night's dew. The subtle fragrance of pine needles and decaying leaves created a complex bouquet that spoke of life, death, and rebirth—a cycle Lu Feng knew all too well. The cool dew on the grass greeted him with each step, the blades bending and then springing back, offering comfort and a sense of rejuvenation that seeped through the soles of his feet and into his very being.
A cheerful smile spread across Lu Feng's face as he breathed in the crisp, morning air, feeling invigorated and refreshed. The simple pleasure of existence—of breath entering and leaving his lungs, of muscles contracting and relaxing, of blood coursing through his veins—filled him with a profound gratitude that transcended his complicated circumstances.
"Another day, another life," he whispered to the morning breeze, his words carried away into the vast expanse of the forest.
Clearing the charred remains of last night's feast from the crude fire pit, he sat at the rough-hewn table outside the cabin and summoned the system, his voice barely above a whisper, like a prayer offered to an unseen deity. "System."
The familiar blue interface materialized before his eyes, a stark contrast to the natural greens and browns that surrounded him:
Cultivation Levels Deduced -
1.Core
2.Innate
3.Origin
4.Master
5.Sovereign
6.Empyrean
7.Demi-Saint
8.Holy Emperor
???
Information limit reached. This info doesn't establish the norm or standard for any forces at any level, please exercise caution as you navigate the world.
Compiling knowledge from the repository.
Compiling world laws and specifications.
Generating Attribute and Skill Tree.
ETA 72 Hours.
"Three more days..." Lu Feng's thoughts wandered like autumn leaves on a gentle stream, pondering the mysteries of the system and the world he now inhabited. The blue text hovered before him, cold and impersonal, lacking the sardonic commentary he had grown accustomed to over his previous lives. Interacting with the system without the mocking voice of Iris felt somewhat strange to Lu Feng, like a familiar presence was missing from a room long inhabited.
"With Iris gone, I doubt the system can answer any queries or provide guidance..." Lu Feng chuckled, a wry smile spreading across his face, creating fine lines at the corners of his eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond his apparent years. "...Funny— I miss the straightforward tasks and checklists."
The system's new, more formal tone was a departure from Iris' sarcastic demeanor, akin to replacing a witty, if acerbic, companion with a stone-faced servant. Lu Feng found himself adjusting to the change, like a traveler adapting to an unfamiliar climate.
"System. Host Info," he commanded, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.
Name: ???
Age: 19 (Approximated from bone age)
Cultivation: Innate level cultivation. Indeterminate stage.
Please wait 72 Hours for further info.
Lu Feng closed his eyes, delving into the memories of his host, searching for clues about his past and his circumstances like a scholar sifting through ancient texts for fragments of forgotten knowledge. The memories came to him in disjointed fragments—flashes of a life not his own, yet now inextricably bound to his essence. Despite the absence of his host's memories beyond the past 4 years, the temperament and calm state of mind evident in his daily life impressed Lu Feng. He sensed a depth to his host, a complexity that he was eager to unravel, layer by meticulous layer.
"A young man surviving alone in the wilderness for four years," he mused aloud. "Not just surviving, but maintaining a certain dignity and poise. Who were you? What drove you to this solitude?"
After noticing something intriguing in his memories—a fleeting image of a hidden treasure—Lu Feng entered the wooden cabin, his curiosity piqued like a scholar confronted with an undeciphered manuscript. The cabin's interior was sparse yet meticulously organized, speaking volumes about its former occupant's character. Rummaging through the cabin with purpose rather than desperation, he discovered a shoddily carved wooden box hidden under the straw bed. The box itself was unremarkable, its craftsmanship crude, as if made by hands unaccustomed to such work—perhaps the hands of the young man whose body Lu Feng now inhabited.
When Lu Feng pried open the lid, he found a token nestled within, surrounded by dried wildflowers that had long since lost their vibrant hues but still retained a faint, sweet scent. He grasped the token with reverent fingers, feeling a sudden surge of excitement course through him, like lightning trapped beneath his skin, electric and alive.
Exiting the cabin, he examined the token more closely in the morning light, taking in the intricate details of the craftsmanship with the eye of a connoisseur evaluating a priceless artifact. The sunlight caught the token's surface, revealing nuances invisible in the cabin's dim interior.
The token, crafted from gold of the highest purity with purple gemstones—amethysts, perhaps, or something more valuable in this world—inlaid along the periphery, featured a life-like pouncing white tiger carved from silver and an unfamiliar black metal at its center. The tiger seemed almost alive, its muscles bunched in preparation for an attack, its jaws open in a silent roar that Lu Feng could almost hear echoing across mountains and valleys. On the reverse side, embossed into the gold, were silver characters reading 'Baihu,' the strokes flowing with a calligraphic elegance that spoke of ancient traditions and meticulous training. The symbol seemed to shimmer in the morning light, radiating an aura of power and prestige that transcended mere material value.
He turned the token over in his hands, feeling its satisfying weight—a weight that spoke of more than just precious metals and gems, but of heritage, of legacy, of a past waiting to be reclaimed.
Despite his unfamiliarity with this new world, Lu Feng's keen eyesight—honed through eight previous lives of observation and survival—allowed him to discern that the token, with its weight and intricate design, indicated that his host's origins were anything but ordinary. "Baihu must be his surname..." Lu Feng whispered to the forest, which kept his secrets in the rustle of leaves. "Anyone with common sense could guess that this is a powerful faction..." The implications swirled in his mind, a maelstrom of questions and possibilities that threatened to overwhelm him with their complexity.
Yet, he couldn't comprehend why such a prominent family hadn't located the young man whose body Lu Feng now inhabited. The Baihu clan, if that's what they were, clearly possessed resources and influence—the token alone spoke of wealth beyond the reach of common folk. So why had they abandoned one of their own to the wilderness?
"Maybe the family is in deep trouble or has been exterminated..." Lu Feng theorized, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Or perhaps they are located too far from here... It's something for later, I guess." The mystery deepened like a well without bottom, and Lu Feng's curiosity grew, driving him to uncover the truth about his host's past with the determination of a scholar uncovering a lost civilization.
Reflecting on it and drawing from his own vast experiences across multiple lives, Lu Feng deduced that, living four years without resources or access to medicines, while severely injured—the host must have originally been at peak Origin level to still possess Innate level cultivation. It was as if a mighty dragon had been reduced to a serpent, yet still retained enough of its power to command respect. Although Lu Feng was unaware of the world's standards, it was undoubtedly rare for a 15-year-old to have cultivation just short of Master level. Such talent was not merely uncommon; it bordered on the miraculous, like finding a diamond in a riverbed where pebbles should be.
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Lu Feng couldn't help but let his thoughts wander, pondering the host's backstory and the circumstances that had led to his current situation. "Lost memories, mysterious background, powerful cultivation... A single precious token..." The pieces of the puzzle swirled in his mind, a tantalizing mystery waiting to be solved, each piece offering a glimpse of a larger picture that remained frustratingly obscure.
"Damn, this Young Master's Halo Is Too Bright... It would've been a good origin story had he not died." A moment of silence passed, a tribute to the departed host, as Lu Feng reflected on the what-ifs and the maybes. The forest seemed to still, as if joining him in his silent vigil for a life cut short, a potential unfulfilled.
After a moment of contemplation, Lu Feng went inside the cabin once more and examined the place in meticulous detail, searching for any clues or hidden compartments that might reveal more about his predecessor. His fingers traced the rough-hewn walls, feeling for irregularities, for secrets embedded in the very structure of this humble abode.
In a corner, partially concealed by a loose floorboard that creaked beneath his careful touch, he found a luxurious set of robes neatly folded and placed in a small, ornate chest. The robes were made of a fabric so fine it seemed to flow like water between his fingers, dyed in deep blues and purples that spoke of nobility and influence. Intricate golden embroidery depicted scenes of tigers hunting among mountain peaks, the stitches so small and precise they seemed almost impossible to have been made by human hands.
Alongside the robes lay a ring—simple in appearance yet radiating a subtle energy that Lu Feng could sense even without active cultivation. Curious, Lu Feng put the ring on his right hand, feeling an unexpected surge of energy that coursed through him like a river breaking through a dam, powerful and untamed.
"This must be a space ring..." he muttered, eyes widening with the realization. Space rings were treasures capable of storing items in a separate dimension, accessible only to the ring's owner.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes, and circulated the energy in his body—or attempted to. The energy moved sluggishly, like honey on a cold day, resisting his will. He tried various methods of opening the ring, drawing on knowledge from past lives, but to no avail. The ring only briefly showed signs of opening—a flicker of light, a whisper of power—before sealing shut again, as if teasing him with possibilities just beyond his reach.
"There's a cultivation level restriction..." he realized, frustration evident in the tightening of his jaw. "Damn, this must be what did the owner of this body in... If there was no restriction, he could have used whatever's in there to heal his injuries... Too bad..." The ring was both a treasure and a tragedy—a key to salvation that the host couldn't use, locked as it was behind a cultivation level he could no longer attain in his weakened state.
Leaving the ring on, he rummaged through the cabin once again, his search more methodical this time, guided by the experience of eight previous lives spent uncovering secrets and solving puzzles. After a thorough search, he found nothing else of note, but his mind was already racing with possibilities and theories, constructing narratives from fragments, like a poet creating verses from scattered words.
The morning had advanced while Lu Feng explored the cabin, and his body reminded him of more mundane needs. After a refreshing soak in the nearby stream—the water cool against his skin, washing away not just dirt but the weight of contemplation—Lu Feng set about the practical task of securing food. The forest provided abundantly for those who knew how to look, and Lu Feng's previous lives had taught him the art of survival in myriad environments.
He caught a few rabbits on his way back to the cabin, their soft fur belying the tough meat beneath—a reminder that appearances could be deceiving in this world as in any other. Alongside the rabbits, he gathered a makeshift basket full of berries he foraged, which he recalled from his host's memories were safe to eat. The berries were small and dark, almost black, with a sweet-tart flavor that would complement the savory rabbit meat.
Returning to the cabin, he managed to light some embers from the previous night's fire and used them to ignite a new bundle of logs, the flames licking hungrily at the dry wood. After butchering and cleaning the rabbits with practiced efficiency—his hands moving with the memory of countless similar tasks across multiple lifetimes—he carved up the meat and separated it. In the rough clay pot, blackened from many uses, he placed all the fatty meat remaining from last night's feast along with the rabbit meat and set the pot on the fire.
As the meat sizzled in its own fat, the irresistible aroma filled the small clearing, making Lu Feng's mouth water and his stomach growl with anticipation. The smell evoked memories—not just from this lifetime or the last, but from all nine of his existences, each one with its own relationship to hunger and satisfaction, to survival and indulgence.
Despite his urges to consume the meat immediately, he added all the berries he had foraged, creating a strange concoction that seemed to blend the savory and sweet flavors in a way that might seem odd to others but made perfect sense to someone who had experienced multiple lifetimes of culinary traditions. The berries burst in the heat, their juices mingling with the meat drippings, creating a rich, dark sauce that bubbled with promise.
Letting the mixture cook, filling the air with an aroma that spoke of wilderness and resourcefulness, Lu Feng sat on the ground in a lotus position and began to attempt to circulate energy once more. This time, the response was immediate and painful—his entire body seized with an intense agony that felt like every muscle was being torn apart and reconstructed simultaneously.
Even though Lu Feng had a high pain tolerance—built through countless deaths and rebirths, through torture and training across nine different lives—he couldn't help but groan, his body protesting the sudden surge of energy that coursed through channels too damaged to contain it properly. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his temples, each droplet carrying away a fraction of his strength.
"Damn, I can't even circulate energy..." he gasped as the pain subsided, leaving him trembling and weak. "Guess I'll have to wait for the system to come online." The realization was a bitter one—like all cultivators, Lu Feng understood that time spent unable to cultivate was time wasted, opportunities lost that could never be regained.
An hour later, the strange mixture of fat, meat, and sweet berries was done cooking, transformed by heat and time into something greater than the sum of its parts. He removed the pot from the fire with a cloth wrapped around his hand and set it aside to cool, keeping it covered to preserve both heat and flavor. The aroma of the strange mixture was alluringly meaty and sweet, making Lu Feng's mouth water with anticipation.
"This is what kept me alive in dire times throughout my previous lives..." he reflected, stirring the mixture gently with a wooden spoon, watching the thick sauce cling to the meat in a way that promised both sustenance and satisfaction. "I'll set out in the afternoon... I'll have to get out of this forest soon." The thought of leaving the forest and exploring the unknown world beyond its borders filled Lu Feng with a sense of excitement and trepidation—the familiar feeling of standing at the threshold of a new adventure, a new chapter in his eternal story.
The weight of fatigue settled over him like a heavy cloak, his body demanding rest after the morning's exertions and the failed attempt at cultivation. Feeling sleepy, Lu Feng entered the cabin, ready for a nap that would restore his energy and prepare him for the journey ahead. He lay on the simple straw bed, the token and ring his only companions as he drifted into a sleep filled with fragmented dreams of tigers and mountains, of golden palaces and battles fought in the clouds.
When he woke, the sun had shifted in the sky, casting different shadows across the clearing. With renewed purpose, Lu Feng returned to the pot and found that the mixture had cooled and solidified into a dense, sticky mass. He cut it into bars with a knife, each one a concentrated source of energy that would sustain him on his journey. The bars were ugly by any aesthetic standard—dark, irregular, and glossy with congealed fat—but Lu Feng knew their value went far beyond appearance.
He proceeded to gather all the important things, placing them on the table and taking stock with the methodical precision of one who has prepared for journeys countless times before:
"Daggers, check," he murmured, testing each blade's edge with his thumb. They were crude compared to the weapons he had wielded in past lives, but they would serve their purpose.
"Gourd full of water, check." The gourd was made from a dried calabash, sealed with beeswax to prevent leaking, a simple solution to a universal need.
"A set of luxury robes, check." He folded the ornate garments carefully, knowing they might prove useful not just as clothing but as a symbol of status in a world where appearances often determined treatment.
"Mysterious token, check." The golden token went into a small pouch at his waist, close enough to access quickly if needed, its weight a constant reminder of unresolved questions.
"Space ring, check." The ring remained on his finger, its potential locked away but not forgotten, a promise of resources once he regained sufficient cultivation.
"Primitive energy bars, check." The food bars, wrapped in large leaves tied with plant fibers, went into a simple sack slung over his shoulder.
"Let's go."
After bidding farewell to the cabin in his heart—a silent acknowledgment of the shelter it had provided and the secrets it had revealed—Lu Feng set off downstream, his footsteps leaving imprints in the soft earth that would soon be washed away by rain or filled in by the forest's endless cycle of growth and decay.
The path alongside the stream was narrow but clear, worn by years of travel—perhaps by his host, perhaps by animals coming to drink. Water burbled over rocks and around fallen branches, creating a soothing melody that accompanied Lu Feng's journey, a counterpoint to the thoughts that occupied his mind.
He hoped to leave the dense forest and embark on a new journey, one that would uncover the secrets of his host's past and lead him to a brighter future—a future where the knowledge and power accumulated across nine lifetimes would finally serve their intended purpose. The sunlight filtering through the trees cast long shadows across his path, dappling his skin with patterns of light and dark, a reminder that the world was full of mysteries waiting to be uncovered, and Lu Feng was ready to face whatever lay ahead with the wisdom of nine lives and the determination of a soul that refused to surrender to fate.
As he walked, the token in his pouch seemed to grow warmer, as if responding to his movement—or perhaps to something in the distance, something yet unseen but drawing nearer with each step. The mystery of Baihu, of the white tiger and the young master's past, awaited him beyond the forest's edge, where civilization and its complexities would replace the simple truths of survival that had defined this small corner of his existence.
Lu Feng smiled, the expression genuine despite the uncertainties that lay ahead. Nine lives had taught him one truth above all others: every ending was also a beginning, and this journey—like all journeys—was merely the first step toward a destiny yet to be written.
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