Reborn In A Cultivation World With All Cheat Abilities

He stared at the notification with a confused expression, ’Infinite evolution?’ he pondered, why had the system taken so long to reveal what kind of physique he had?

"Description."

A supreme physique capable of endless growth and adaptation.

The host’s body can evolve without limit, refining itself through battle, cultivation, and experience. Injuries, techniques, bloodlines, and energies can all be absorbed and transformed into strength.

There is no peak to this physique.

Only continuous evolution.

"Hoo! Now that’s the definition of OP, just have to wait to see what else is in store." He exclaimed, his thumb and index finger caressing his chin lightly.

He got down in the lotus position and attempted to cultivate for the umpteenth time, each time he did he was blocked by the same notification.

"Dag nab it! I’ll just stop trying at this point," he sighed painfully, just as he was getting up there was a soft knock on the door, it was Xenia.

"Young Master, your grandparents will be arriving soon," she recited, a perpetual smile plastered across her face.

"Give me five minutes."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He stepped out into the massive corridor of the Ironfell Castle, dressed in blue and white royal regalia and accompanied by Xenia. His footsteps resounded against the polished marble floors, every direction he turned, servants bowed and stepped aside for him.

He sighed inwardly, having gotten accustomed to this treatment, it felt good but it had grown boring. He stepped into a large hall, huge banners displaying the Ironfell crest were draped on either side, he could see huge mountains in the distance through the large windows, they surrounded the estate, their peaks lost in the clouds.

’All this just to welcome my grandparents? Wonder what my awakening would look like,’ he mused, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

He had never seen them in his 5 years on this continent, he had no idea what they looked like, but he heard stories, a bunch of them.

His mother and father were already seated, their expressions brightened the moment he stepped in the room.

"Son!"

"Jacob!"

They both echoed as he ran over to them with outstretched arms, "when are grandpa and grandma coming?" He asked them with an eager expression.

"They’ll be here any second my boy." Lord Rhoarin Ironfell spoke, his voice deep enough to rattle the stone walls, a black leather patch rested over his left eye, its edges lined with shiny diamond studs that caught the light with every movement. Legend had it, he lost that eye while taming the most vicious Divine beast in all the land, the silver dragon, earning him the name ’Silverwing Sovereign.’ Few dared challenge Lord Rhoarin Ironfell. Those who did rarely lived long enough to regret it.

His mother, Lady Elena Ironfell, was the most beautiful woman that Jacob had ever seen, and no, it wasn’t just because she was his mother, her pretty smile and soft spoken tone had fooled many, for she was a warrior, possessing an unrivalled Ice Cultivation technique, she was known by all as the ’Frost Empress.’ "Here they come sweetheart," she said in the most calming voice, pointing towards the huge doors, a powerful presence filled the hall, the massive doors slowly opened with a deep rumble.

"Ho! Ho! Where is the little critter?" An old man practically yelled as he walked in happily, he wore a long black robe, studded with gold ornaments and wielded a jade cane, he was accompanied by an old woman, her robe was white and had the exact same ornaments on it.

’So these are my grandparents... they’re definitely scary.’ Jacob mused as he watched them walk towards him with speed that was unnatural for their age.

His grandparents, Alaric and Esty Ironfell, were the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Ironfell Clan, respectively, they were nothing short of Yin and Yang, extremely powerful dual cultivators whose combined strength once shook the entire Daven Heaven Continent.

"So this is my grandson!" Alaric said, pausing in front of the boy, as if studying him, his huge 6’9 frame intimidating, his white beard reaching his chest and his piercing eyes capable of reaching into a person’s soul.

"Oh, my precious grandson, he’s so handsome," Esty said, hugging the boy suddenly, almost startling him.

"Esty, don’t spoil the boy too much, I plan to make a warrior out of him."

"Stop it dear, it was just a hug, I haven’t even presented the gifts yet."

Alaric chuckled, getting on one knee to get a closer look at the boy, "I can already tell you’re gifted, my boy, my intuition never betrays me." He said, patting the boy’s shoulder.

In all this Jacob remained silent, he was finally able to muster a greeting, "Welcome grandpa and grandma, I hope you both had a smooth and safe journey."

The old man laughed, "Ho! Ho! He speaks like royalty, we would’ve had a smooth journey if your grandmother stopped complaining for a second."

"Alaric!" Esty gasped, forcing the old man to raise his hands in submission, everyone laughed.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Later in the evening Alaric decided to go on a walk with his grandson, they had walked in silence for a while until Alaric finally spoke up, "Tell me son, what do you want to be in the future?" He inquired, looking down at the boy with an eager expression.

"I want to be the strongest cultivator ever."

"Ho! Ho! You are a true son of your father, barely even ready for your awakening and you already have such dreams," Alaric grinned, his fingers running through his grandson’s hair.

"Did father achieve his dreams?" The boy asked innocently.

"I think his achievements speak for themselves my son," he started, "Listen, I may not have another chance to tell you this, but I know you’re a smart boy. In this world, power is the only real authority, without it, even kings fall to their knees. The Ironfell clan is powerful, but we are not the only power on the Daven Heaven Continent. There are ancient sects... immortal clans... and monsters that have lived for thousands of years. A warrior, most especially the sole heir of the Ironfell clan should never walk this world empty-handed."

The old man removed a dark silver ring from his finger, carved on the surface were ancient runes, and a faint spiritual energy emanated from it.

"This is a Spirit ring."

"What does it do grandpa?" Jacob asked, twirling the object around in his grasp, it was too big to fit his small fingers so he’d promised himself silently to hold onto it until he was old enough to wear it comfortably.

"Inside this ring, there is a small dimensional space, most cultivators use it to store weapons, pills, treasures and spirit stones. I got this particular one from a Nascent Realm cultivator I defeated once." Alaric replied.

"Thank you grandpa, I will take very good care of it." The boy smiled as the old man patted his shoulder.

"Remember this boy, Talent without discipline, is meaningless."

"Yes sir!" Jacob exclaimed with a salute, forcing a chuckle out of the old man.

Alaric watched carefully as the boy examined the ring with a sparkle in his eyes.

The old patriarch smiled quietly.

"This boy might surpass us all."