Han Yun sat there in silence, shoulders hunched, eyes unfocused as if he was staring through the white void rather than at it. The weight of everything he just lived—everything he just lost—still clung to him like wet clothes.
He didn't cry anymore. He just sat. Still. Breathing quietly.
Somewhere, distant yet close, the black skeleton watched from beyond.
The voice returned—slower now, thoughtful.
"When you entered, you were loud. Defiant. Cautious, but full of wit and intent."
"Now look at you."
The words weren't cruel.
Just… true.
"This is why many fall before they even reach the peak. Not because they lack strength. But because when faced with themselves… they crumble."
The voice didn't press him. It didn't demand an answer.
It simply waited.
Because in cultivation, if you cannot overcome yourself,
Even your own Qi would become your enemy.
Even your inner demon would devour you from the inside out.
The silence lingered too long.
The white void didn't move. The throne room didn't stir. And the voice—once ever-present, now—began to fade into something colder.
Final.
"You are not ready," it said. "You have failed. You are still chained by what you lost."
The black skeleton's voice held no anger. Just quiet disappointment.
It had seen it before.
A soul, cracked at the edges. Someone who could joke and bluff their way through beasts and blades, but fold in front of their own reflection. Another one swallowed by memory, by longing.
The trial had reached its end.
The ancient will behind the skeleton began to withdraw—when suddenly—
A voice echoed.
Faint at first, hoarse—then louder.
"No."
The void trembled slightly, as if startled by the single word.
Han Yun was still on his knees, but his hands were no longer limp. His fingers were clenched tight into the floor. His breathing was ragged. His shoulders low, but firm.
"I would still choose the same path," he said.
His voice wasn't proud. It wasn't confident.
But it was clear.
"If I had the chance to turn back… I'd still end up here."
He slowly pushed himself up. One knee. Then the other. Blood still crusted on his palms, dirt in his sleeves, exhaustion heavy behind his eyes—but he stood.
"I lived that life. And it was beautiful. Quiet. Fulfilled. But…"
He looked up—not at the skeleton. Not at the void.
But inward.
"That wasn't who I am anymore. Maybe it was. Maybe it could've been. But I'm here now. I chose to be here."
His chest rose and fell with each word.
"I don't want fleeting warmth. I don't want another sunrise only to vanish a few decades later."
"I want more."
"I want time. Not just for myself—but to see the world shift. To know things no one's lived long enough to know. To chase truth. To leave something behind that doesn't rot in the ground."
His hands trembled slightly—but he didn't falter.
"Nothing in life is absolute. Not power. Not happiness. Not love. But longevity…"
He took a breath.
"Longevity gives you the chance to try again. The time to grow. The time to make mistakes and correct them. That… that's what I want."
He looked toward the void, voice steady now.
"I grieved for that life. But I let it go."
"And I choose this path."
He didn't scream it. Didn't pound his chest.
He just said it like a truth long overdue.
The throne room was silent again.
The white void behind Han Yun faded slowly, and the cold stillness returned—except now, it was listening.
The black skeleton on the throne stared down at him, its hollow sockets somehow sharper, as if it had truly seen him for the first time.
Then, the ancient voice returned, deeper, calm—almost… satisfied.
"Not bad… not bad at all."
"You've passed, Han Yun."
A low rumble echoed from the throne itself. Dust fell from the ceiling. The carvings along the floor glowed faintly as ancient energy stirred for the first time in a thousand years.
"You are not the most talented. You are not the chosen one god given talent from heaven. But you chose yourself. That… is more rare than fate."
The skeleton's black bones began to glow softly, the hue not dark or ominous—but pure, refined Yin.
"These bones… are all that remain of my immortal body. What I once was, you will now carry forward."
The bones lifted from the throne—slowly—hovering into the air, one by one. They dissolved into spiritual particles, swirling around Han Yun before diving into his body like a tidal wave of pure Yin essence.
His body tensed instantly.
Cold. But not the suffocating cold of death—this was controlled, sharp, reinforcing.
His veins glowed faintly. His skin lit up with white threads of Yin Qi dancing across the surface.
His physique… was no longer normal human.
[Physique Acquired: Frozen Soul Marrow Body]
Grade: Mystic Tier
Description:
A rare Yin-based physique born from the marrow of an immortal who walked the path of death and endurance.
Converts ambient Yin Qi into vitality instead of harm.
Body becomes immune to cold and spiritual corrosion. Greatly enhances resistance to soul attacks and improves longevity.
Passive Effects:
— Enhanced durability and physical resilience
— Rapid Qi circulation under pressure
— Slows natural aging
— Qi pathways reinforced with Yin-resistant bone marrow
Han Yun exhaled sharply as the process completed, his breath now visibly frosted. He looked down at his hand—no longer the same. His skin glowed faintly under the surface, like moonlight trapped inside flesh.
And then—something else floated from the throne. A single object, elegant and weightless: the black robe.
[Item Acquired: Robes of the Eternal Shade]
Grade: Mystic Tier
Description:
Woven from shadow silks and lined with silver Qi threads, this robe belonged to the Immortal of the Silent Abyss. It bends Yin energy around the wearer, making their presence fade like mist. Designed not only for defense, but for survival in lethal trials and assassination attempts.
Passive Effects:
— Reduces visibility to spiritual senses
— Greatly enhances Yin-based techniques and compatibility
— Auto-repair function (minor damage)
— Enhances soul stability under duress
Set Bonus (if worn with Yin-type Physique):
— Cloak of Presence: Can suppress or conceal cultivation rank for short durations.
Han Yun caught the robe as it settled in his arms. It was surprisingly light—cool to the touch, but comforting in its energy. As he slipped it on, it settled over his shoulders like it belonged there.
His Qi surged—not violently, but refined, like a blade being polished after a long rest.
He looked down at his hands again.
No longer the hands of a wandering beggar.
As the final echoes of the Immortal's voice faded, and the ancient presence vanished into silence, Han Yun didn't move.
He didn't rush out, didn't scream in triumph, didn't even smirk this time.
He simply stood still for a long moment, breathing—his breath slow and cold, misting faintly in front of his lips.
Then—
Ding!
[System Notification: You have successfully intercepted a High-Grade Opportunity belonging to Feng Yiran.]
[Source: Inheritance of the Silent Abyss Immortal]
[Target: Feng Yiran – Updated Destiny Points: 11,302 (-1,000)]
[Reward: +1,000 Destiny Points]
Han Yun's eye twitched slightly.
"…One thousand? Just for this?"
He chuckled softly. "So that's what fate tastes like at full portion."
But he didn't get up.
He looked around at the abyssal chamber, still pulsing faintly with residual Yin Qi. It wasn't collapsing like in other stories. It wasn't going to vanish in a dramatic self-destruction moment.
No.
It was still here.
And it was rich—the air thick with Yin energy. Denser than anywhere he'd cultivated before.
He turned slowly, walked toward the center of the chamber, and sat down cross-legged on the cold stone floor.
"Ye Fan can wait," he muttered. "Yiran can wait. The sect can wait. The world can wait."
His fingers gently tapped his knees, eyes slowly closing.
But this...
This is mine.
Han Yun entered deep meditation, the robe of Eternal Shade settling around him like shadowed armor, and the Frozen Soul Marrow Body activating naturally—his body absorbing the Yin Qi like a bottomless vessel.
Hours passed. Then days.
A week turned into two.
Two into four.
He sat unmoving, like a statue of ice carved into the center of the ancient abyss.
The Yin energy poured into him, refining his body, tempering his soul, strengthening his meridians until—
Boom—
[Cultivation Breakthrough.]
[Stage: Foundation Establishment — Mid Stage Achieved.]
After a full month, Han Yun opened his eyes again.
They no longer looked tired.
No longer unsure.
They were clear, cold, and calm—like deep winter lakes untouched by storm.
He exhaled, breath misting softly into the air.
Then he called open his panel.
[Status Panel — Han Yun]
Name: Han Yun
Age: 17
Race: Human (Altered – Yin-Type Variant)
Realm: Mortal Realm – Silent Cloud Star
Cultivation Stage: Foundation Establishment – Mid Stage
Physique: Frozen Soul Marrow Body (Mystic Tier – High)
Talent Grade: B (Enhanced via Divine Pill)
Bloodline: Human (Low Purity)
Heavenly Fortune Level: Moderate
Fate Thread: Independent – Self-Woven
Inventory Highlights:
– Robes of the Eternal Shade (Mystic – Peak Tier)
– Talisman Crafting Manual (Mid Grade)
– Destiny Points: 1,430
Han Yun stared at it all for a moment.
"Not bad."
Han Yun stood at the center of the ancient abyss one last time, his robes fluttering softly around him from the Yin Qi still lingering in the air.
He took a breath, stretched his hand forward—and rose.
Slowly.
For the first time in this world, his body lifted off the ground—not from some talisman cheat or illusion trick, but from true cultivation power.
Foundation Establishment.
The first step into real strength. The realm where mortals began to transcend their limits.
He floated upward, a little awkward at first, like someone still getting used to their limbs after a long sleep. But he got the hang of it. Step by step, pulse by pulse, he rose higher, through the shaft of the broken abyss that once swallowed him whole.
As he ascended, he passed familiar jagged ledges, shattered stone walls, places he had once clawed at in desperation. Now, he glided past them in silence.
The weight that once dragged him down—fear, uncertainty, doubt—felt distant now.
Not gone.
But no longer heavy.
Then—a burst of light.
He breached the cave's exit, the shadows behind him melting as the golden sunlight hit his face for the first time in over a month.
Han Yun instinctively raised a hand, squinting. The warmth didn't hurt him—it just felt… foreign. Too bright. Too loud. Too alive.
He blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust.
"…Damn," he muttered, shielding his brow. "I really forgot how blue the sky was."
The wind brushed against him, cool and real.
Birds chirped in the distance.
Leaves rustled.
The world… had moved on.
But so had he.
Han Yun hovered a moment longer, letting the sunlight soak into his robes.
Then slowly began drifting down toward the mountain slope.
As Han Yun gently descended down the mountain trail, the wind fluttering his black robe like a banner of quiet rebirth, his thoughts drifted to his next move.
"I should probably spend some of those points soon… maybe a Yin-type cultivation method or movement technique. Something to match this new body."
He flexed his hand absently as he walked, feeling how much lighter and stronger.
When he finally reached the outer walls of the sect, disciples passing by slowed their steps.
They didn't say anything. Not right away.
But their eyes? They stared.
Some whispered.
Han Yun raised an eyebrow as another pair of disciples glanced his way, then quickly looked away.
"The hell you all looking at?" he muttered under his breath, brushing some dust off his shoulder. "What, never seen a guy fly back from a herb quest before?"
Still, he didn't think too much about it. This was the Thousand Peaks Immortal Gate—weirdos showed up every day.
He headed straight to the quest hall, dropped off the Verdant Spiritthread Grass he technically risked his life for, and received a handful of sect tokens and a polite "welcome back" from the bored-looking disciple behind the counter.
Then he headed back to his courtyard to rest.
As he stepped into his quarter, one of the senior disciples from Feng Yiran's circle—a guy named Chen Zuo, someone who'd shared meals and gossip with Han Yun more than once paused as he passed by.
He squinted at Han Yun.
"…Hey," Chen Zuo called, frowning. "Who are you?"
Han Yun stopped in his tracks. Blinked.
"…What?"
Chen Zuo tilted his head. "This is Han Yun's courtyard. You new?"
Han Yun stared at him.
"…It's me, bro."
Chen Zuo blinked once. Twice. Then made a face. "Huh?"
Han Yun turned around and stormed inside, mumbling curses as he headed straight for the mirror in the corner of his room.
And when he saw his reflection—
He froze.
"…Yo."
His face was still his, no mistake.
But now—his skin was paler, faintly glowing under certain angles. His eyes, once dull, were now a sharp silver-gray, reflecting light unnaturally. His jawline was cleaner, cheekbones sharper, lips fuller. And the long strands of black hair that had always been messy now flowed smoothly behind his ears, framing a face that looked... almost too delicate.
Not weak.
Just... pretty.
He leaned closer.
"…Did I get prettified by Yin Qi?"
He touched his cheek slowly.
A long silence.
Then he groaned and collapsed back into his bed.
Back in his courtyard—robe draped lazily over the back of his chair, legs kicked up on a small table—Han Yun leaned back and opened up the system shop, eyes glinting with the pure greed of a man who just made off with a thousand-point payday.
"Alright," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Time to treat myself."
The first thing he bought was a Yin-type combat technique, instantly scrapping the one he'd originally planned to save for weeks ago.
[Technique Acquired: Glacial Vein Palm — Gentle Fist Variant]
Type: Martial – Yin/Ice – Hand-to-Hand
Description:
A refined martial style focusing on internal disruption through soft palm strikes. Each hit delivers surging Yin Qi into the opponent's meridians, slowing their movements, freezing their flow of Qi, and weakening their internal organs.
Best used with Yin-type physiques. Graceful, efficient, and deadly.
Status: Learned (Compatibility: Excellent)
Han Yun tested a few poses in the air—graceful sweeping motions, flicks of the wrist, gentle stances with deadly potential.
"Damn," he smirked. "I look like someone's frosty young master from a tragic backstory."
With that out of the way, he still had around 800 points left. And, as expected, that number itching to be spent whispered at him like a devil on his shoulder.
So, naturally, he scrolled down to the pill section.
And there it was.
The pill that had changed everything.
The Divine-grade Talent Awakening Pill—the one that took him from trash-level F-rank talent to a respectable B.
[Status: Purchased — Previously Used]
Effect: Unusable again.]
Han Yun clicked into the item's info out of nostalgia, still impressed.
Then he glanced at the price again.
"...Five thousand," he muttered. "I used a Ferrari as a one-time stepping stone."
He scrolled further down, looking for anything more realistic, and eventually found something that actually caught his eye.
[Item: Meridian Rising Pill]
Grade: High-Mystic
Cost: 1,500 Destiny Points
Effect: Increases a cultivator's Talent Grade by one rank, up to a maximum of A-rank.
Cannot be used if talent is already A or higher.
Only usable once per lifetime.
Best results when taken during Foundation Establishment stage.
Status: Eligible
Current Talent: B-rank
[Required: 1,500 / Current: 800]
Han Yun stared at the description for a long time, tapping the side of his cheek with one finger.
"…So I can't hit S, but I can hit A if I just scrounge together 700 more."
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin.
"This is worth it. The higher my talent, the faster I grow. That means faster breakthroughs, better Qi absorption, better compatibility with higher-tier techniques…"
He nodded slowly to himself.