The grand hall pulsed with life, a living tapestry woven from the warmth of countless bodies and the heavy press of watchful gazes. Masters from far-flung peaks stood regal in robes embroidered with threads of gold and silver, their presence mirrored by disciples whose anxious faces flickered with anticipation. Above them, spiritual crystals hung like captive stars trapped in stone, casting a soft, shimmering light that danced across the marble walls. The air thrummed with low murmurs, blending with faint sighs and the muffled shuffle of footsteps. Reverence saturated the space, yet beneath it lingered a denser current—a tension that clutched at the chest and held fast.
At the center of this sea of souls rose a throne of gleaming white jade. There sat the master of the Sacred Heart Peak, motionless, her serene face a still reflection of a frozen lake. But her eyes—those eyes sliced through the air like honed blades, deep and frigid, capable of quieting even the boldest spirit with a single glance.
Leaning against a pillar stood Tang Jun—or Kaelan Drakarys, a name that still whispered through his soul—watching the scene unfold in silence. He made no move, yet his presence roared without a sound. No grand flourish was needed; simply being there, wrapped in an aura that seemed to drink the surrounding light, was enough. The others felt it too. Some turned their faces away, others risked fleeting glances, but none dared draw near. He was a living enigma, a man shouldering a weight far too vast for the hall to hold.
The distant hum of voices faded into a dull drone in his ears. His mind slipped away, drawn by an invisible tide back to five years past—a time when everything had crumbled, only to rise anew.
The taste of blood lingered on his tongue, the echo of a blow that had brought him low still resonating in his bones. A cultivator from the Dao Establishment Domain had struck him down as though he were nothing, shattering his spiritual sea into fragments, his strength leaking away like water through clenched fists. Lying on the cold earth, he'd thought, "It's over." But the end never arrived.
"You shouldn't be alive." Her voice cut through the stillness, steady yet laced with a tremor he couldn't quite name. It was his master. He pried his eyes open and saw her standing there, her face a mask of astonishment tinged with… fear? No, not fear—fascination. Kaelan should have perished, yet something within him stirred. The Divine Soul of the Infinite Abyss awoke with a roar, a force so rare and boundless that the heavens themselves seemed to quake. Even with his spiritual sea in ruins, his mind remained sharp, unbroken. Then the system emerged—a cold, calculating whisper flickering in the shadows of his thoughts.
The Divine Mind came first, a gift that breathed clarity into his chaos. Then the Blade of Eternal Darkness settled into his grasp, its icy edge glinting with intent. He wasn't finished. His master, her gaze still fixed on him, extended a small vial. "Take this," she said, her voice hushed, almost a breath. "It's a Sacred Cleansing Elixir. You… you deserve a chance." The liquid burned as it slid down his throat, but it swept away the pain, the wreckage, the despair. It was a rebirth. Yet the system had grander, wilder designs. "Win her over," it murmured in his mind—his master, the woman who preached detachment, who insisted love was a shackle to be cast off on the path to the Dao. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity, but the seed of longing had already taken root.
The memory of his confession still blazed in his chest. They'd been alone, the wind sighing through the trees atop the peak.
"You… you like me as a woman?" Her voice emerged low, almost fractured, her eyes wide with disbelief.
He swallowed hard but stood firm. "Yes. And I won't give up on this."
She laughed—a sharp, cutting sound like a slap. "You're a fool, Kaelan. A stubborn fool."
The rejection stung deeper than the strike that had nearly ended him. But he held steady. The system pulsed within his soul, rewarding his reckless courage. That very day, he forged his Supreme Foundation, soaring across an entire domain in mere hours. Even she, the untouchable master, stood speechless, her lips parting as she watched him rise anew before her.
Five years later, she was his—wife, companion, far more than a prize won at an immeasurable cost. But the price wasn't his alone; it was hers too. And now, in this hall, the ruler of the Holy Land—the master of masters—watched him from afar. He felt the weight of her stare, as though she could pierce through him, down to his very marrow.
A gentle voice broke his reverie. "Tang Jun, you're so lost in thought you don't even notice the stares devouring you."
He turned to see her—his master, his wife. A faint smile curved her lips, but her eyes still burned with that fire he could never fully unravel.
"It doesn't matter," he replied, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. "They mean nothing."
She laughed softly, but before she could answer, the air thickened. A heavy presence descended upon the hall, dense and stifling. Heads swiveled, voices fell silent. Something—or someone—was approaching through the main entrance.
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Complete System Functions
Name: Kaelan Drakarys
Age: 25 years
Race: Half-Blood
Title: Heir of Eternal Darkness
Emotion System Functions
Status
He sensed the system like a mirror within, reflecting all he was—the ache in his muscles, the tangle of his thoughts, the enduring glow of his soul. It laid bare his cultivation: every step carved out, every technique honed. Divine skills glimmered there too, rare treasures gifted by the system, alongside an inventory brimming with items he'd yet to fully grasp.
System Store
Emotional points were his currency, and the store stretched before him like a realm of its own. Weapons that hummed as they cleaved the air, techniques that set the wind trembling, elixirs that warmed the veins—he could refine what he possessed or claim something new: a spark for the mind, a surge for the body. It beckoned, a marketplace where the cost was drawn from the souls of others.
Emotion Creation
The system fed on the emotions he stirred in those around him. A timid smile earned little; a cry of rage or a breath of love yielded far more. He'd witnessed it all—quiet joy, searing envy, even ecstasy that felt divine. The deeper he pierced a heart, the richer the system's rewards.
Emotion History
It was nearly a journal: names, faces, feelings, all etched into memory. He'd skim it now and then, recalling who he'd moved, who he'd reshaped. Each entry brought a boon—points, an item, a shard of power.
System Missions
The system delighted in testing him. "Make that disciple weep." "Provoke a master's wrath." At times, the tasks swelled grander: "Sway the heart of a throng." He took them on, each one a rung toward something greater.
Reward Lottery
A roll of the dice. The stronger the emotion he sparked, the grander the prize. If it came from someone of weight—a master, a legend—the odds tilted in his favor. He'd claimed things he couldn't yet fathom, tucked away as mysteries.
Host Ranking
There was a ladder among the Emotion Masters, and he climbed it step by deliberate step, savoring each triumph. The higher he rose, the more the system indulged him—new abilities, edges in battles beyond mere steel.
System Updates
The system grew alongside him. The tighter the bond he forged with another, the more it offered—hidden skills, items that pulsed with life. Emotions became points, and points became power. Simple, yet ruthless.
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Tang Jun drew a deep breath, his eyes half-shut. "How long has it been…" he murmured, almost to himself. "Back then, I'd have called this a wild dream."
He opened his eyes and met hers—his wife, now taut, her gaze fixed on the entrance. Whatever loomed ahead, he knew he was ready. The system thrummed in his soul, a cold yet steadfast companion. He'd shape the future with his own hands—and the hearts of those around him.
Tang Jun stood unmoving, his eyes locked on the faint glow of the system screen hovering before him like a specter. The blue light flickered in his pupils, but he didn't blink—a frozen lake, mirroring all yet baring nothing. "How long has it been…" he whispered, his voice scraping against his dry throat. "Five years ago, I'd have thought this was nothing but a delusion."
Five years since fate ripped him from Earth and flung him into this jagged world of towering peaks and skies that seemed to weigh every breath. He hadn't arrived as some polished hero, armed with clear memories and a flawless form. No—he'd been reborn, raised like any other, until the shadow of Kaelan Drakarys, the man he'd once been, stirred awake at the bleakest hour. The day he fell. A cultivator from the Dao Establishment Domain had struck him down with merciless force, a fist that splintered his spiritual sea like brittle glass—all for a woman, a reason so pitiful it stung. He'd collapsed, his chest sinking into the damp earth, blood trickling warm from his lips. "It's over," he'd thought, his eyes drifting shut as darkness called.
But the darkness answered back.
Something erupted within him—an abyss alive with fury, defying death itself. The Divine Soul of the Infinite Abyss surged to life, a power so immense it seemed to swallow the sky whole. His eyes snapped open, his body quaking, and there she was—his master. She stood over him, her dark hair spilling like shadows across her shoulders, her eyes hard as polished stone. Yet a flicker broke through her mask—a crack, a hint of something unguarded.
"You shouldn't be alive." Her voice held firm, but he caught the waver, a thread of astonishment she couldn't bury.
He couldn't answer; words wouldn't come. His mind reeled, but the Divine Mind was already there, slicing through the storm with razor clarity. Then the system slipped in—an icy murmur in his soul, bearing the Blade of Eternal Darkness, cold and heavy, brimming with purpose. She stepped closer, hesitating in a way he'd never seen, and pressed something into his hands.
"Take this," she said, her tone softening to a near-secret. "Sacred Cleansing Elixir. You… you're not done yet."
He caught the vial, his grimy fingers brushing hers for a fleeting second. He drank without pause, the liquid searing like embers down his throat. When it settled, the weight in his chest lifted, and he drew a free, unshackled breath. The system pulsed, savoring the spark that flared in her eyes.
That was when it struck him—a reckless notion that laughed at reason. He saw the system's game: emotions were its fuel, and the fiercer they burned, the more it gave. Anger was potent, fear was handy, but love? Love was the peak, a vein of gold no one dared mine. And who better than her—his master, the woman who wore detachment like a second skin, who claimed the heart was a burden on the road to the Dao? "If I can make her want me, what might I gain?" he wondered, a heat stirring in his chest.
He didn't wait long. The sun dipped low, painting the peak in crimson, when he found her alone.
"I want you," he said, the words steady, almost fierce. "Not as my master. As my woman."
She froze, her frame stiff as if struck. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, he glimpsed beyond her walls—shock, anger, maybe more.
"You… what?" Her voice quivered, a disbelieving laugh slipping out before she could catch it. "Are you insane, Tang Jun?"
He stepped forward, fists tight. "I won't give up on this."
She turned away, her laugh soft but edged like a blade. "You're an idiot." Then she was gone, leaving only the chill of the wind behind. But the system sang in his mind, feasting on the chaos he'd unleashed. That night, he built his Supreme Foundation, power surging like a relentless tide. In hours, a whole domain bowed beneath him. She returned the next day, her eyes narrowed, her silence louder than any rebuke.
Five years later, she was his. It wasn't a fairy tale—it was a war. Every stolen glance, every sharp word, every shard of pride she let slip was a victory carved out. The day she gave in, when her walls fell and tears glistened in her eyes, the system granted him a new physique—unique, potent, dwarfing the might of the ten greatest supremes. Then came the master of the Dao Holy Land, a figure forged of storm and stillness.
"You're not just a cultivator," she said, her voice rolling like distant thunder. "You are the Holy Son of this land."
He dipped his head, the title settling over him like an unseen crown. Kaelan Drakarys faded, buried in the ashes of yesterday. Tang Jun was who he'd become.
He took a slow breath, his gaze tracing the lines of his status on the screen. Each word was a piece of him—every triumph wrested from the dirt, every scar turned to strength.
"From a nobody on Earth to this," he thought, his fingers grazing the Blade of Eternal Darkness at his side. The system hummed, a cold but loyal shadow, awaiting his next step. And he knew—the journey was only beginning.