A small lingering soul that was blinking in and out on the edge of existence was submerged in pure and total fathomless darkness. Chaos ensued as the spirit could not sense its own shattered state with its sight, hearing, touch, and other senses being completely restricted.
Slowly, the muddled confused state it was currently in began to alleviate, and retrievable fragments of its memory started returning one by one until they formed a coherent past and consciousness.
Where am I?
Who...am I?
The spirit consciousness tried to think hard remembering its name, but it worked to avail as it was still in a clouded state of mind.
Before long, it fell back into its illusory existence with no thoughts nor memories for the time being.
With no sense of time to be aware of, it finally once again awakened centuries later; but for the entity itself, everything happened instantaneously.
The process started over again and like before, a flood of memories surged into it and a sensible consciousness began to form.
Who am I?
Where...am I?
The soul asked itself the same questions as before, but yet again, it could find no answer. And like a never-ending cycle, everything started to happen as it previously had.
But just as it was about to fall back into its earlier unconscious state, a strange chiming sound resounded, followed by a numerous series of commands made by a gender-less mechanical voice.
'DING!'
[System Initialization progress: 99.999%]
[System Initialization progress: 100.00%]
[System Installed successfully! Now importing Host's memories pre-transmigration...]
[**ERROR!!#%**]
[The Host is currently being constrained by a powerful Extraordinary object native to: World-300256-B]
[Using System energy to neutralize the item's effect on Host. Protocol: 5501A - Activating all system countermeasures against foreign entities!]
[Object's Effect successfully neutralized.]
[**DANGER!!!**]
[System Energy: 000.001%]
[Inputting System Fragments Inside The deepest part of The Host's spirit consciousness to revitalize System Energy...]
[**DANGER!!!**]
[Host is rapidly absorbing the last remaining System Energy!]
[Host Please Stop!!!]
[Host Please Stop!!!]
[Gu Chen Stop!]
[System Energy: 000.00%....]
A sound equivalent to a television set being powered off echoed off into the distant void, as the confused soul abruptly jumped awake.
What the Hell is going on!?
Suddenly, a massive amount of information immediately surged into its very being, causing a momentarily staggering effect.
....I am Gu Chen!
Gu Chen quickly recalled everything involving his past.
He was born into a farming household in the lower mortal worlds, where he lived a quiet life growing crops and tending to the animals. One day, he had found an Infinite Grade heaven-defying cultivation artifact called the Dao bead that allowed him to breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment realm without even having to temper his body!
Ever since, he swiftly left his family behind without hesitation and went on a journey of enlightenment as he experienced the joys of being a cultivator. They were mortals, their lifespans measured in decades. What use were such fleeting connections to someone pursuing immortality?
Indulging in all of the pleasures of life; he tried countless wines, experienced various jaded beauties, and finally joined a prominent Demonic sect and found himself a very powerful master.
Decades passed and with the Dao bead, Gu Chen's cultivation base briskly surpassed his master's and he became the newest Heavenly Demonic Sect Patriarch, leading it to become the number one sect underneath the Heavens!
Fathering dozens of children all from different wives, the Chen clan gradually began to rise to fame over the years, and his family spread out across the continents and soon took over the entire world. With Gu Chen being the mighty founder, striking fear in the hearts of all known as the Heavenly Demon.
But even that wasn't enough.
He needed to conquer the Heavens too!
So after finding ancient traces of immortals, he made it his life's mission to ascend past the highest known realm which was the twelfth level of Soul Formation, and advance to the realms of Immortals!
Just as he was in the middle of his ascension process and forging his Immortal body, a strange but powerful force had inexplicably fixated itself on him and instantly sealed his cultivation base and part of his spirit - leaving him in his earlier broken state.
This whole situation was truly too bizarre!
Gu Chen soon came to realize that his current predicament was much less than desirable. So, while he tried to come up with ways to escape what seemed to be a locked spatial distortion inside of a pocket dimension, he examined fragments of the System he had just unknowingly devoured.
After what felt like hours of trying to deconstruct and make sense of all of the System's components, Gu Chen was at last able to learn what the System's purpose and functions were.
So it appears that this System, or if I were to call it by its proper name of Deity System, was initially designed to have life forms spread a cultivation method designated the Star-Shattering Ten Techniques, that acted as a kind of parasitic entity that partially fed on the energy gathered from cultivators back to the System.
Once the Host finished completing all System quests, it would depart and attach itself to another Host, constantly feeding off of it and sending the acquired energy back to its unknown creator.
Gu Chen surmised that specific knowledge within the system of who made it was extremely valuable, since not even his absorption of it could grant him access to it. With the anonymous figure possibly even being some powerful Immortal!
The Deity System had also been crafted with a rewards function that consisted of bestowing upon its Host with high-tier Heaven Grade cultivation techniques and manuals. But fortunately Gu Chen now knew any and everything that this despicable system could ever offer.
And with his Infinite-Grade Soul Bead, what use was anything of the mere Heaven-Tier?
Gu Chen then tried to summon the extraordinary power of the Soul Bead but was instantly met with an insurmountable resistance, which he subconsciously recognized as the "sealing" effect of whatever artifact was imprisoning him.
Gu Chen inwardly let out a deep and heavy 'sigh'.
All he could do now was just sit and wait for some fortune of fate to miraculously befall upon him and release him from this endless plight.
So for the time being, Gu Chen mediated and focused on comprehending the profound cultivation techniques the System had departed him with. Figuring this to be the best method of utilizing his seemingly unlimited time wisely, he tried to gain new spiritual insights.
...
In the northern reaches of the Thaloryan Empire lay Frosaac City—a place that bore the name of a 'city' yet possessed nothing of its substance.
Three sides faced the barren and endless wilderness. One side connected to civilization by a thread-thin road that seemed ready to snap at any moment. The city's founder had claimed this barren land millennia ago, planting his name like a flag upon worthless soil. Whether he did so out of ambition or desperation, history did not care to record.
The city walls were low and crumbling. The buildings leaned like drunken beggars. This was a settlement frozen in time, stubbornly clinging to outdated methods while the empire marched forward elsewhere.
Spring rains hammered down with merciless intensity, turning the streets into rivers of mud and refuse. Harsh northern winds cut through cloth and flesh alike, yet still the mortals emerged from their hovels.
Because profit waited for no weather.
Street vendors huddled beneath tattered awnings, hawking their wares with voices hoarse from shouting. Pop-up market stalls lined the cracked stone roads—roads that spoke of former painstaking care now reduced to ruin. Hundreds of figures hurried through the downpour, heads bowed, each chasing their own meager gains.
This was the way of the mortal world. Struggle until death, then be forgotten. The strong devoured the weak, and the weak devoured each other.
Frosaac City was not a place of opportunity. It was a cage where the desperate clawed at one another for scraps, all while pretending they still had dignity left to lose.
Among the crowds moved a small, frail figure—a boy of twelve years, though one could be forgiven for mistaking him for eight or nine. Malnourishment had stunted his growth. A torn cloak clung to his skeletal frame, doing nothing to ward off the biting cold.
He wandered from vendor to vendor with unnatural persistence, begging each for scraps. The same request, spoken with the same desperate sincerity. The same immediate rejections.
"Please, just something small. I have two younger siblings—"
"Move along."
"Any food you can't sell, I'll take it—"
"Get out of here before I call the guards."
The boy had long grown numb to such treatment. He understood the logic perfectly well. These vendors operated on razor-thin margins. Every scrap given away was income lost. Every moment spent listening to a beggar was time not spent hawking to paying customers.
If their positions were reversed, he would do the same. Self-preservation was not cruelty—it was common sense.
This understanding had come early to the boy. At an age when children should play and learn, he had instead assumed the role of parent to two younger siblings. Circumstance had carved away his childhood, leaving only premature maturity in its wake.
Ahead stood a familiar bakery stall. Its owner had, on rare occasions, tossed him moldy bread—the kind that would make paying customers sick but could still fill an empty belly. Today, this man represented his best hope.
The boy approached, raising hands that trembled from cold and weakness. His fingers were thin as kindling, far too fragile for someone his age.
"E-excuse me s-sir," he began, teeth chattering. "May I p-please have s-some bread for me and my f-family. I am willing to accept m-molded ones and can e-even w-work for it."
The offer of work was hollow, of course. One glance at his emaciated frame told the truth—this boy could barely stand, let alone labor. But perhaps the gesture itself would move the baker to charity.
The boy looked up with pleading eyes.
What stared back made his blood freeze.
Two dark, emotionless eyes met his own. No pity resided there nor did any hesitation. Only an overwhelmingly thick, murderous intent.
"You're scaring away my customers with that sickly appearance," the baker said. His voice carried no anger, no shouting—just a simple statement of fact delivered with absolute finality. "Get lost."
The boy understood immediately. Disobedience to this command would probably have fatal consequences. The baker's expression promised violence with the casualness of someone swatting a fly.