The pill's name had been unmistakable: Nirvanic Reincarnation—a miraculous union of two vast principles of the Dao.
On one side, Nirvana: a state of profound inner transformation, not just of flesh, but of spirit. The quiet purification of the soul, stripped of illusion.
On the other, Reincarnation: the cycle of death and rebirth. Simple in word, yet as boundless and elusive as Nirvana itself.
And the lotus, dark and serene, marked him with that truth—a symbol of his potential for reincarnation.
He didn't guess its meaning. He hadn't reasoned it out.
He simply knew—the way one knows how to breathe, how to think, how to move their lips to speak.
A knowledge etched not into the mind, but into the very essence of being.
Reincarnation is not unimaginable in this realm; on the contrary, it occurs in rare instances. With sufficient cultivation and mastery of soul techniques, one can attempt it—and perhaps recognize it.
The lotus mark offered him that chance, or so it seemed. though its full meaning remained veiled.
Perhaps deepening his comprehension of the soul and spirit could allow him to unravel the true meaning of the mark.
Unsettled yet eerily calm from the recent event—likely the repressing of experiencing Nirvana—Zhou Chen rubbed his index finger against his thumbnail out of habit
"…Hm?" His voice was quiet, blank with sudden realization. "What happened to my storage?"
He glanced down, his expression growing still. In his focus on self-examination, he had been completely absorbed and forgotten his surroundings.
He was in a hollowed-out cave—no exit, no entrance.
No cultivation to draw upon, no strength to rely on… and he was completely naked.
"…"
Fortunately, he wasn't buried too deep underground. Faint light filtered through narrow cracks in the stone, casting pale beams across the cavern.
The isolation flag he had set before consuming the pill had already deactivated—its effect limited.
Nearly an hour passed as he searched through the dim rampaged ground, his hands grazing rough stone and the endless dust caused by his outburst. The search for the fingernail was exhausting in a cave so cluttered with rocks and debris.
He almost cursed himself for choosing such a secretive and inconvenient storage method.
At last, he managed to recover his belongings:
A small, blackened thumbnail, some tiny, well-hidden needles, and a bundle of beggar's rags—now even more battered and torn from the violent outburst that had followed the pill's consumption.
The hidden needles were an unorthodox technique he'd learned in his past—swallowed and kept hidden in the stomach, a deadly surprise for any unsuspecting foe.
Simply put, spitting your opponent to death. Not elegant, but rather effective.
It was clearly frowned upon as unorthodox technique, but dead men tell no tales, and Zhou Chen had no intention of becoming one.
Moving on, Zhou Chen wrapped himself in what was barely salvaged from the rags. He looked like something born of the jungle, but he didn't mind—nor did he have any other clothes to wear.
Holding the blackened thumbnail, Zhou Chen sighed in relief. The inscriptions were intact, untouched by his earlier rampage. If they had been destroyed, he would have lost much more than just his clothes.
The thumbnail's body was incredibly hard—though not impossible to break. The end was twisted into jagged, sharp points, designed to stab into flesh and stay lodged there. Beneath the surface, faint blue inscriptions glowed softly, pulsing with a quiet power.
Biting his finger, Zhou Chen let a drop of his blood fall onto the nail. Immediately, the inscription beneath it glowed faintly, and a bond formed.
With a careful motion, he took one of the thin needles and, very carefully, made a tiny, hair-thin hole in its edge.
Next, he tore a few strands of his hair and wove them through the hole, fashioning a crude necklace of sorts.
Why not just reattach the nail? For one, his previous nails were all black—a glaringly obvious tell. Second, his younger appearance made his fingers thinner, and it wouldn't fit properly. It would only get in the way.
Wearing the makeshift necklace on his bare chest, Zhou Chen checked its fit and gave himself a once-over.
"…Could have been worse."
He looked more and more like a jungle man—wearing a fingernail necklace and ragged scraps around his lower body. He couldn't help but let out a self-deprecating smile.
Growl~
"…"
Zhou Chen's eyes froze for a moment as his stomach betrayed him. As a cultivator, he didn't need to eat regularly.
The higher one's realm, the fewer the necessities: hunger, sleep, illness—they became vague and rare. Yet, even he could feel the emptiness gnawing at him.
With a silent sigh, he touched the necklace, and a bottle of medical pills materialized. There were fewer than a dozen left—remnants of his previous injuries and critical state—but it was more than enough
Taking a single pill, it looked ordinary—green, thumb-sized, nothing like the Nirvanic Reincarnation Pill. With care, he took a small bite.
As 'Mortal' with no cultivation base.
Pills with high spiritual energy were potent enough that even part of it would suffice. Consuming too much at once, however, could cause impurities—something he couldn't afford.
Feeling satiated, Zhou Chen settled into a seated position. And moved to the ignored parts. He willed—and the system responded.
The air trembled, and from the void, two illusory objects slowly took shape.
...
[Uncollected rewards are now available. Please select your subject of retrieval.]
:: Penetralia of Solitude — The lost legacy of the Blind Hermit, a cultivation method of the highest order, crafted for those who walk the lonely path, free of worldly entanglements. Rooted in the principle of drawing strength from within, it channels the natural currents of spiritual energy found in seclusion, allowing its practitioner to forge a solid foundation.
:: Spotless Dust Staff — A relic from forgotten times, plain in form yet shrouded in profound mystery. A Sealed Treasure, it harbors within its humble frame a will both ancient and pure. Though its true power remains dormant, whispers speak of winds that sweep the earth, and a presence that permits no corruption, no impurity, to remain.
...
Zhou Chen exhaled as his gaze fell upon the remaining treasures offered by the strange system.
He hadn't forgotten about them—but standing at death's door, and then suddenly discovering a pill that could change everything… it had overwhelmed his already muddled judgment.
He'd consumed it rashly, and what followed was history: his body torn apart and reforged, only to be swept into an illusion before he could even catch his breath.
"Hah… never judge a pill by its color," he muttered, half in jest, half in painful memory.
With a clearer mind and no immediate danger pressing on him, Zhou Chen examined the treasures' descriptions with greater scrutiny.
After all, the pill's description hadn't mentioned anything like: 'Will painfully tear apart your body, then hurl your soul into an existential fever memory dream.'
He snorted faintly, Should've come with a warning label: Side effects may include clarity, screaming, and a black lotus tattoo.
"Hm?" Zhou Chen stilled, momentarily distracted. It wasn't from the descriptions of the objects, nor any sensible reason he could pinpoint—he just felt something was strange.
Zhou Chen frowned, then sighed, shaking off the feeling and his wandering thoughts. His attention returned to the items at hand, the descriptions as cryptic as ever.
He skimmed them again, trying to make sense of the strange titles and their vague promises.
But…
Unfortunately, he barely gleaned anything from them. Even after scouring his memories for any mention of the 'Blind Hermit,' there was no reference to such a figure, no name or any individual associated with that title.
Penetralia of Solitude—a cultivation method for the solitary, one that draws strength from within, free from the distractions of the world. Zhou Chen found the idea intriguing, but it didn't align with any specific technique path, Dao, or cultivation style he was familiar with.
The only thing he could vaguely connect to was the phrase "worldly entanglements," which eerily resembled the system's messages about his so-called "karma entanglements."
But it was just a guess, and if it were true… then this technique might cultivate some… Karma.
No lightning, no extreme elements—a heavenly principle. That spoke volumes about the potential power of this technique.
Zhou Chen exhaled slowly, trying to calm his turbulent thoughts.
Having gained nothing from his thoughts, he moved to act.
Without hesitation, Zhou Chen extended his hand to claim the illusory scroll.
...
[COMING NEXT] - CHAPTER 11 - Penetralia of Solitude