Wang Jie's body twitched once.
Then stilled.
Smoke still curled off his skin.
Jin Hao leaned forward, staring at the screen like it might do a magic trick if he looked hard enough.
"Hey… still breathing?"
The camera didn't lie. The faint green dot on the map said:
[Wang Jie – Alive]
Barely.
Then something else started to happen.
Qi began swirling around Wang Jie's body. Slowly. Like it was being pulled in from the courtyard. From the broken halls. From the cracks in the very stone.
"Wait… is he absorbing the qi around him?"
The light around him changed. It wasn't golden anymore. It turned deep red. Murky. Chaotic.
Then—fwump.
Jin Hao jolted.
"What was that sound?"
The screen zoomed closer.
Wang Jie's body had disappeared.
In his place… was a cocoon.
Red. Veined with shifting lines of black and gold. It pulsed like a heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Heavy.
"Okay," Jin Hao muttered. "This just went full monster evolution sequence."
The cocoon sat in the center of the courtyard. Glowing patterns moved across its surface. Some looked like dragon scales. Others like ancient script, twisting and reforming every second.
He poked the screen.
Nothing.
No buttons. No input. No dialogue box.
Wang Jie was out cold. Or… whatever the cocoon thing meant.
Jin Hao sighed and leaned back against the wall.
"Well. Guess I just wait now."
He blinked at the screen. Then frowned.
A new tab had appeared in the corner.
[Time Flow Control – Available for Training/Recovery Events Only]
[Current Flow: 1x]
[Max Acceleration: 100x]
"...Huh."
He clicked it.
A slider popped up.
Jin Hao stared at it for a moment.
Then dragged it all the way to the end.
[Time Flow Set: 100x]
The courtyard shimmered. Everything blurred slightly.
The shadows moved. The clouds shifted faster. The moss on the stone lanterns spread, curled, and turned dry again.
The cocoon pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then faster.
It twitched. Qi started spilling out of it like leaking smoke.
Jin Hao sat up straighter.
The red glow turned brighter. The black patterns on the cocoon started burning.
Then came the first crack.
Tiny. But loud.
"Alright," he muttered. "Showtime."
The cocoon cracked again.
Then a piece shattered.
Inside, a figure moved.
First the arm. Then the torso.
Muscles rippled under newly reforged skin. Steam rolled off every inch of him. His hair hung wet and wild around his shoulders. His eyes were shut, but his body was glowing like a furnace.
Then he opened his eyes.
Red and gold.
Not angry. Not calm.
Just… alive. In a way that made the air around him ripple.
Jin Hao felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Wang Jie stood up slowly. Breathing deep. Every breath shook the stone under his feet.
He didn't speak.
He just bowed.
To the air.
To Jin Hao.
"Thank you, Ancestor."
Jin Hao blinked.
Then rubbed his eyes.
"…Holy crap, he looks like a final boss in Ring of Elven now."
But before he could say more—
A pulse hit him.
In his chest.
No—deeper.
In his veins.
He winced.
"Ow."
It wasn't pain. But it wasn't nothing either.
It felt like someone tapped his bones with a tuning fork.
Then again. A stronger throb.
His fingers twitched.
He looked down at his hand.
"Why does it feel like something's... moving in me?"
His vision blurred for a second.
And something—deep, ancient—stirred behind his ribs.
Like something was waking up.
"…Okay. That's not good."
The screen flickered once.
And Jin Hao flinched again.
Because his hand…
It was glowing.
Jin Hao stared at his glowing hand.
It wasn't bright.
Not dramatic.
Just faint lines, like old veins drawn in soft gold ink. They ran under his skin. Across his knuckles. Up his wrist.
Then they faded.
He blinked.
"...Did I imagine that?"
He shook his hand. Nothing. The light was gone.
But something had changed.
His fingers felt warmer. Thicker, maybe. His chest didn't hurt anymore. It felt... tighter? Like someone tied cords under his skin and pulled just enough to remind him they were there.
He pressed a hand to his heart.
Still beating.
Just... harder.
"Okay," he muttered. "I don't know what that was, but I swear my ribs feel heavier."
He rolled his shoulders.
Then he gasped.
It wasn't pain.
It was like a stretch. A deep one. Like bones that hadn't moved in years suddenly remembered they could. Muscles shifted strangely. Something inside him pulled.
His arms ached.
His legs buzzed.
Even his back cracked when he leaned too far.
And then—
Thump!
He staggered.
His vision flashed red for a second. Like something inside his brain twitched.
He leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
"Okay! Okay! What is happening to me?"
He looked down again. His hands were steady, but his fingers kept curling like they wanted to punch something. His whole body felt coiled.
Coiled and full.
It wasn't like caffeine or adrenaline. It was deeper. Raw.
It was power.
Real power.
"Am I... cultivating?" he whispered.
He stared at the comm-tab. The screen was still on the courtyard.
Wang Jie was there, fully awake, meditating now in the middle of the ruined plaza. The storm around him had calmed, but his skin glowed faintly with heat. His breath left small ripples in the air.
He looked like a man built from stone and qi.
Jin Hao swallowed.
Then looked back at his hand.
That glow earlier…
That pulse in his bones…
Was it from Wang Jie?
He opened the menu again. Same tabs.
[Sect Management]
[Time Control]
Nothing new.
Then the screen flickered.
A soft ding echoed in his room.
A new line of glowing text appeared across the top of the screen, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
[Sect Cultivation Synchronizing: COMPLETE]
Jin Hao's eyes widened.
"Wait. What?"
His eyes locked on the glowing line of text.
[Sect Cultivation Synchronizing: COMPLETE]
He didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
Then he whispered, "Synchronizing… with me?"
He opened the menu again. Dug through the tabs. There was a new icon next to his own profile — a tab that hadn't been there before.
[Cultivation Sync Status: Active]
He tapped it.
A window popped up.
[Sect cultivation progress is now linked to current management authority.]
[Cultivation advancement, breakthroughs, and technique comprehension of disciples will cause feedback to authority holder.]
[Link quality: 1%]
[Warning: Feedback may include pain, damage, or death if the sync level exceeds the host's tolerance.]
Jin Hao reread it five times.
Then slowly leaned back and let out a long breath.
"So that's what it was."
The screaming.
The twitching.
The throbbing pain behind his ribs.
It wasn't in his head. It wasn't a weird glitch or a curse.
It was real.
He'd felt Wang Jie's body tear apart and rebuild itself. Not fully. Just enough to shake him. Enough to tell him this wasn't just a screen anymore.
He looked at his hand again.
Still normal.
But not.
He rolled his shoulder and flinched as his bones popped again. It didn't hurt this time. It just felt... newer. Like his body was waking up from a long, slow freeze.
"…I'm actually cultivating," he whispered.
The words didn't feel real.
He stood up.
Stretched.
Then stopped halfway through.
His knees didn't crack.
They always cracked.
"Holy crap," he said, turning around in a circle like an idiot. "Holy crap holy crap holy—this is real."
He paced the room.
No camera. No sensor. Just a glowing screen and an ancient sect one world away. And yet, he'd gotten stronger. He'd felt it.
He remembered all the nights growing up, staring at old cultivation manuals he couldn't read. Listening to lectures he couldn't follow. Watching the other kids fly through qi exercises while he sat on the floor like a broken spirit root joke.
He clenched his fists.
He remembered the faces.
The instructors who said he'd "find another calling."
The clan elders who walked past him like he was furniture.
The kids who laughed behind their fans. Some didn't even whisper. They said it straight to his face.
"Jin Hao? Isn't he that failure prince?"
"He has no root."
"Didn't he get skipped in the clan registry?"
"His cousins are already Foundation Realm. He's probably playing games in a trash apartment somewhere."
He had been.
But now…
He turned back to the screen.
Wang Jie was still meditating. Red mist rose from his shoulders, flowing into the sky. He looked like a man being rebuilt with every breath.
Jin Hao stared at him.
If he got stronger… I get stronger.
If I help him grow… I grow too.
And if I grow strong enough…
His fingers twitched again.
He could already imagine it.
Walking back into the Jin Clan palace. Not as a servant. Not as a stray.
But as someone they couldn't ignore.
Someone who stood on a mountain of power built from nothing. From dirt.
From ashes.
The forgotten prince, returned with fire in his blood.
He smiled.
"…But I'll need more than a few pills," he muttered.
He looked back at the sect map.
The courtyard.
The cracked walls.
The ruined halls.
Only one green dot blinked.
Only one disciple.
"If I want power," he said, "then I have to rebuild the sect."
He touched the screen again.
"Everything starts with you, Wang Jie."
Jin Hao was still grinning like a madman.
His screen showed the courtyard, but he wasn't looking at it anymore. He was pacing again, bouncing on his heels like a man who just won the lottery and got abs at the same time.
"This is insane," he muttered, brushing his hair back. "I'm literally syncing with someone else's cultivation. Do people even realize what this means?"
He laughed to himself.
"No spirit root, my ass. I've got the infinite sect credits now."
He swiped open another tab, flipping through Wang Jie's status. His qi was stabilizing. The red cocoon was gone. The guy looked exhausted but alive. Probably stronger than most early-stage body refiners in the modern cultivation world.
[Name: Wang Jie]
[Identity: Jade Immortal Sect Handyman Mortal Disciple]
[Traits: Loyal, Hardworking, Filial]
[Cultivation: Body Refining 1st Layer]
[Cultivation Technique: None]
It's already a feat to be compared with the modern cultivation world cultivators because their techniques were refined and strengthened from generation to generation. But Wang Jie, who was from the ancient cultivation world, was still able to compare to them.
"I gotta upgrade the sect next. Maybe repair the buildings. Get a second disciple, start farming outer ranks—maybe even—"
He stopped.
Turned back to the screen.
Then frowned.
"Wait… if this thing's syncing to me… then what about—"
He reached over to his comm-tab. Opened his browser. Went back to the same old forum. The one with broken links, shady banners, cursed-looking game posts.
His usual digital wasteland.
He scrolled.
He knew where the thread had been. Right in the corner. No stars. No comments. A plain black icon labeled [Immortal Sect].
But it wasn't there.
He blinked.
"...Huh?"
He refreshed the page.
Nothing.
Searched again.
Nothing.
No icon.
No download history.
No install records.
No trace.
He checked his activity log.
Even the system didn't show it.
Like it had never existed.
Jin Hao stared at the screen for a long time.
The corners of his smile twitched.
He looked back at the sect window. Wang Jie was still breathing. Still glowing. Still real.
He glanced at the tab bar.
The game was still running.
Still open.
But everywhere else...
It was gone.
Completely.
He didn't notice.
Not really.
He was too busy scrolling the [Sect Management] tab now. Looking at building upgrades. Mission board options. Recruitment settings.
Talking to himself again.
"Alright, let's build something terrifying," he said. "If I'm gonna cheat, I might as well cheat like an emperor."