In the grand tapestry of the universe, there were countless paths to powerâinnumerable systems that mortals, immortals, and everything in between used to claw toward the peak.
Mages, witches, wizards, shamanic bloodlines, aura warriors, elemental hosts, spiritual refiners, mentalists, summoners...
Each path was different.
Some shallow, others deep. Some weak but easy, others vast but treacherous. Some born of nature, some from science, and others from sheer will or divine inheritance.
But among them all... Dao Cultivation remained one of the most
endless
.
Not just in scaleâbut in truth.
And Li Yang came from one of the most ancient and powerful of such realmsâthe
Xuanyan Great World
.
It was not something a realm like Aurora could compare to.
No.
Aurora was new.
A baby clawing at the edges of power.
Had it not been for the backbone of technology, the First Awakeners, and the handful of early cultivators who somehow bridged the gap, this world wouldâve already become a vassal to a greater one.
Realms were not peaceful neighbors.
They were greedy.
Wars between them were not uncommon.
Power systems clashed. Races clashed. Resources were stolen.
It wasnât always hatredâsometimes the reason was simple.
Civilization didnât grow through fairness.
It expanded by force.
Li Yang was not some second-rate rogue cultivator.
He had been a true
Dao Path cultivator
at the
Golden Core Stage
, already touching the edge of
Nascent Soul
.
He had lived over three hundred years....and during those centuries, he had done more than cultivate.
He had
learned.
He was not unique in that.
All cultivators who reached the Golden Core Stageâat least in a true cultivation worldâshared a similar depth of knowledge. It wasnât a gift; it was a consequence of age. Of longevity. Of having lived long enough to see a lot.
The only exceptions were the
supreme geniuses
. Monsters born once every few generations, who broke through realms like they were nothing, racing from Foundation to Nascent Soul in mere decades. They didnât have time to
learn
because they didnât need to. Power came to them as if the universe itself were handing out favors.
Or there were the
Heavenâs Children
ânot always cultivators. They were simply
fated
.
Those ones didnât cultivate in the traditional sense.
They didnât meditate for decades or temper their bodies in spirit fire.
They
killed
.
Every time they destroyed an enemy, they grew stronger. Their path was one of slaughter.
If it wasnât that at some point, they no longer needed to only kill to gain power, they would have been killed from young just to prevent calamity.
Li Yang had fought one.
They were truly favoured children of the heavens.
In any case, it was Li Yang vast knowledge that made him realize just how abnormal his current situation was.
The chain in his spirit...
And the coffin he sat in...
And that was when he understood something else.
"...Iâm not in Xuanyan," he said softly.
It wasnât just the air. Not just the energy. It was the summoning method itself. The techniques used. The unnatural interface that flashed briefly in the void of his vision when the bond was formed.
Everything about it screamed of foreign systems.
Li Yangâs eyes slowly swept across his surroundingsâthis new world, this new realm.
Alien.
Foreign.
Yetâundeniably rich in power.
But he wasnât deceived by comfort.
Not even for a second.
He didnât care about the air, the energy, or the so-called summoner who stood nearby. What mattered was the chain inside him.
It was crude, shallow... and temporary.
"...Surface-level refinement and use of such a powerful tool," Li Yang muttered, sneering under his breath. "Tch. Youâve pulled me across realms and dared to bind me... but you donât even know what youâre holding."
A flash of killing intent flared in him..
He wasnât here to be some corpse soldier on command.
He wasnât a tool.
He had ruled as a King in the Netherworld, even while dead. This bondâthis summoningâwas nothing.
If the youth had thought heâd summoned a mindless beast, he was wrong.
Li Yang had no intention of obeying.
He turned inward, tracing the spiritual chain. It was like someone had tried to place a leash on a dragon using straw rope.
"Foolish," he thought.
Then, with centuries of experience behind him, Li Yang began to attempt breaking the chain. It would only take a few seconds at most.
In the gap of that time when his summoner did not command him, he casted a body protection spell on himself.
Michaelâs gaze narrowed as he studied the new undead.
Something about this one was...
different
.
It reminded him of Spartan.
Noâmore than Spartan. This thing radiated a certain presence.
Michael extended his senses through the bond he shared with the [Damaged Coffin of the Forgotten] to see if there was anything wrong with this undead when suddenlyâ
âPing.
Michaelâs body stiffened.
[Warning: Summoned undead is attempting to sever control link.]
His eyes snapped to the creature.
The undeadâthis so-called Evil Cultivatorâwas already weaving something around itself. Thin, silver lines of energy, so faint they were almost invisible, spiraled around its form, wrapping around its spirit like armor.
"...A self-cast spell?" Michael muttered, his expression darkening.
He could
see
the intent bleeding through the bond. This wasnât just some random energy circulation. No, this was precise, deliberateâlike it was actively trying to cut through the coffinâs connection.
Michael clenched his jaw.
Undead werenât supposed to
do that
.
A low pulse traveled through the coffin again, almost as if warning him that the link would snap if he didnât reinforce it.
Michaelâs mana surged reflexively, flooding the chain to strengthen it.
"Not on my watch," he growled inwardly, pushing his control tighter.
But as he did, he felt something strange. The undead wasnât fighting with brute forceâ
It was unraveling the bond from
within
, as if it understood the mechanism of the summoning itself.
Michaelâs eyes narrowed dangerously.
"...Youâre not just intelligent. You
know
what youâre doing, donât you?"
For the first time, he considered the possibility that this undead wasnât like his othersânot a hollow shell of memories, but something with its own history.
The spell it was casting flared brieflyâa protective layer of energy fused into its dead flesh, as if to shield its body and spirit.
Michaelâs grip on the coffin tightened.
He would have to decide,
right now
, whether to tighten control furtherâor risk letting this thing see how much freedom it could take.
He chose none and commanded the coffin to undo the summoning.
Howeverâ
"Itâs not working?"