Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

Morning came slow and gray through the slats.

Ethan, or rather Lin Xuan, he would have to get used to calling himself that, opened his eyes a few minutes before sunrise. For the first time since he had arrived in this body, he had woken up before anyone else.

Mira noticed immediately.

[ Good morning, host. ]

Lin Xuan spoke in his mind instead of out loud, because Lian was still curled on the floor beside the bed, her hand wrapped tight around his even in sleep, and he did not have the heart to wake her.

’Morning, Mira. Looks like I managed to survive, after all.’

Mira said nothing for a beat. Instead a notification unfolded in the corner of his vision, clean and ceremonial in a way the panels so far had not been.

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[ MAIN QUEST — COMPLETE ]

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[ "The Blade That Returns" ]

[ ]

[ Survive. An order for your removal was signed six days ago. Tonight,they collect. ]

[ ]

[ Objectives: ]

[ ✓ Survive tonight. ]

[ ✓ Break Level 1 of the Withered ]

[ Meridian Curse. ]

[ ✓ Reach Qi Refining Stage 1. ]

[ ]

[ Rewards: ]

[ ▸ +500 Origin Points ]

[ ▸ Shop (Tier 1) — UNLOCKED ]

[ ▸ Daily Check-in — UNLOCKED ]

[ ▸ Free Technique: Nine Dragons Breathing Art ]

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The rewards arrived in order.

The Origin Points pinged into his running total. The Shop and Daily Check-in icons flickered open across the bottom of his vision. The technique came last, and the technique was a different kind of gift altogether. A sharp needle of pressure sank into the back of his skull, a warmth bloomed behind his eyes, and when the pressure cleared he simply knew the Nine Dragons Breathing Art. The postures, the breath counts, the sequencing of the Qi through the meridians. It was written into him the way his own name was written into him.

He tested it, internally, with a single inhale.

The rhythm was there.

He let out a breath and laughed once, quietly, because the alternative was making a noise that would wake Lian up.

’This is ridiculous.’

Mira was not done.

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[ Mission rating: EXCELLENT. No, correction: IMPOSSIBLE. ]

[ ]

[ Host did not flee. Host killed both assassins sent to collect. ]

[ ]

[ Bonus reward granted: ] [ ▸ The curse has been lifted. ]

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Lin Xuan went still.

The last line of the panel sat there, glowing calm and blue, as if it had announced the weather. He read it twice. A slow warmth crawled up from the hollow of his stomach and spread through his chest, and with it came a smell that had no business being inside a human being. Metallic and rotten.

He had smelled the curse before. Mira had warned him not to breathe it in. Now the stench thickened again, which meant it was finally leaving.

Black sweat had begun to bead across his collarbones, his ribs, the insides of his elbows. He looked down at the hand Lian was holding and froze.

He could not pull his hand free without trailing the filth across her skin. He could not move at all without the sweat dripping somewhere it would touch her. The whole body was leaking something poisonous and Lian was sleeping with her cheek inches from his forearm.

’Mira. How toxic is this stuff.’

[ For a cultivator? Mild irritation, nothing serious. For a girl with no foundation, breathing it in is fine but skin contact for any length of time would burn. Move slowly, Xuan. Don’t drag anything across her. ]

He held very still.

He gathered every drop of focus he had, lifted his hand vertically straight up out of hers, and let her arm fall back into her lap. The motion took him almost a full minute. He did not exhale until her hand was clear of his sleeve.

Then he stood up, stepped away from the bed, and put three full paces of distance between himself and the sleeping girl on the floor.

The sweat kept coming. It rolled off his ribs and pattered onto the wooden boards, hissing softly where it landed and leaving small dark stains. He pulled the sleeve of his stained robe over his good hand and held the hand away from his body, already calculating which corner of the room he could move toward to drip safely.

The motion of standing up, however, woke her.

Lian’s eyes flew open, focused on the bed, found it empty, and snapped wide.

"Young Mas— Young Master!?"

She sat bolt upright, saw him standing across the room, and tried to scramble toward him on instinct.

"Stay there!" His voice came out louder than he meant it. He raised his good hand palm-out, the one wrapped in the dirty sleeve. "Lian. Don’t come close. Look at the floor."

She looked at the floor.

The dark hissing droplets were spreading in a slow ring around his feet.

She stopped. Her eyes climbed back up to him. To the black sweat running down the side of his neck. To the fact that he was standing.

"...What."

"It’s the curse. It’s leaving. Don’t touch me until I’ve washed."

"You are standing."

"Yes."

"You are standing across the room. By yourself. Without the bed."

"Yes, Lian."

She slapped both her palms flat on her knees the way someone presses themselves against a wall to make sure the wall is real, and stood. Slowly. Her eyes never left his face.

"Prove it that you are fine."

He almost laughed. He kept his good hand wrapped tight in the sleeve, planted his feet shoulder-width apart, and lowered himself into a clean squat. All the way down. Knees holding. No tremor. He stayed at the bottom for a count of three, came back up, and finished standing without a sway.

Lian’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"I’m going to wash this off," he said carefully. "There’s a basin in the side room. I need you to step outside for a minute. Don’t open the door for anyone except yourself coming back. When you come back I’ll be in clean cloth."

"...I am going to get Elder Ren. Right now."

"Lian, wait — "

The door was open and shut before he could get another syllable out.

[ Don’t worry about Elder Ren. ] Mira said it gently, almost conversational. [ He is the only ally you have in this sect aside from Lian. You were adopted into this sect because of him. He vouched for you nineteen years ago. ]

’Vouched for me, huh.’

Lin Xuan ran his good hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed. The black sweat on his arms was drying in patches, flaking off like old paint.

’So I suppose I really am Lin Xuan now. Time to put Ethan Reed away.’

A pause.

[ I— I didn’t mean to say anything inappropriate, host. (◉＿◉) ]

He tilted his head at the little face in the corner of his vision.

’Mira. Are you about to cry on me.’

[ No. I was only pointing out that I am very respectful of grief and did not wish to, you know, stomp on an Earth boy’s funeral. ]

’Relax, Mira. I died on a train. I’m grateful you pulled me out. Now stop dramatizing and give me my next rewards and my daily check-in already, hehehehehehe.’

[ And here I was worried you might spiral into depression. (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) ]

’I appreciate the concern. Now gimme the thing.’

[ Origin Points balance: 1,800. ] [ Daily Check-in: available. ]

And then a wheel. A gold edged wheel with slots on it, the symbol of something between a roulette and a gacha, spinning slowly in the center of his vision.

Lin Xuan grinned before he could stop himself. His face had not made that particular grin in two years. The body felt it and approved.

[ Oh no. ]

’What.’

[ That smile. Host. That is a gambler’s smile. You have never pulled on a system roulette in your life and your brain has already filed it under "activities we enjoy." I am going to have to have words with you about impulse control. ]

"I am not a gambler."

[ Host. You just said that out loud while visibly salivating. ]

"I am not salivating."

[ You are salivating. ]

"I’m enthused."

[ You are enthused exactly the way a gambler is enthused. ]

He reached out with one finger and tapped the wheel anyway.

The wheel spun, clicked, spun again, and slowed.

It landed on a sword.

A scroll of pale paper condensed out of the light and settled into his palm. He could feel the weight of the technique inside it before he had even unrolled it, something old and disciplined, like picking up a sword that had been sharpened by someone who took the job seriously.

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[ ROULETTE REWARD (Daily Check-In)]

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[ Technique Obtained: ]

[ ▸ SEVEN DRAGON SWORD ART ]

[ Rank: Yellow (high). ]

[ Lineage: Skyedge Sword Sect core teaching, restricted. ]

[ ]

[ Standard requirement: ] [ Qi Refining Stage 9 (Peak). ]

[ ]

[ Current host realm: Stage 1. ] [ System override: granted. ]

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Lin Xuan did not speak.

He simply let the scroll dissolve back into light, and the same sharp needle of pressure from earlier sank into the back of his skull, deeper this time, and when it cleared he knew the forms. Seven stances, each named for a different dragon of the mountain. The first three were the ones Master-level disciples learned in their fourth year. The last two were the ones instructors only demonstrated, never taught. He knew them all the way you know a song you have been humming for a decade.

A technique he should not be allowed near for another eight years, minimum, had just been given to him free.

’Mira.’

[ Yes. ]

’This should be restricted. This is a sect-core technique.’

[ It is. I rolled it and the system delivered it. The system does not recognize sect politics as valid restrictions, host. It recognizes you. ]

’...That is going to cause me problems.’

[ Only if you demonstrate it publicly before you should be able to. ]

’I can hear your smile.’

[ I am beaming, host. I am beaming. (^▽^ ) ]

He had no time to answer.

[ Host ]

The tone had shifted.

[ Theres two presences approaching. Fast, very fast, like very very very fast, and one very strong. The other is Lian. ]

Lin Xuan stood up slowly, rolled his good shoulder, and faced the door.

’Mira.’

[ Yes. ]

’Call me Lin Xuan. I have to get used to it.’

A beat.

[ All right. Lin Xuan. ]