"Impossible! What manner of creature is that!"
Torvin Pierce's hypersonic flight ceased, momentum bleeding off violently as he stopped dead three meters from the imposing figure. His eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto hers – eyes that held an unnerving golden depth. A flicker of cold calculation, a microsecond of regret: 'Misjudged. Should have maintained vector. Impact, even if only glancing, might have yielded tactical advantage.'
The impediment was, as suspected, the cultivator Wu Qingcheng. The obscuring mist had vanished, revealing her entirely. Clad in cloud-patterned brocade edged with gold, her obsidian hair secured by an intricate golden phoenix hairpin, she radiated an aura of untouchable authority with phoenix feather tassels swaying from her ears.
Her oval face, skin like flawless jade, was dominated by piercing phoenix eyes – inherently majestic, requiring no overt anger. Between her brows, a stark red phoenix plume marking. Her lips, the color of cinnabar, held the barest hint of an upward curve, a curve that spoke not of warmth, but of absolute confidence.
'A formidable presence. Threat level: Unquantifiable, likely extreme.'
"You are…" Torvin began, voice steady, attempting to initiate information gathering. But the words died as a profound, debilitating emptiness flooded his system. The surge of raw power that had coursed through him moments before vanished utterly, like a switch being thrown. The heightened senses, the feeling of invincibility – gone. Darkness clawed at the edges of his vision. His body, abruptly disconnected from the wellspring of temporary might, became dead weight, succumbing to gravity.
Wu Qingcheng extended a delicate hand. An invisible tether of force snagged Torvin's falling form, suspending him effortlessly. Curiosity, sharp and analytical, flickered in her eyes. She manipulated the unseen energy, turning his unconscious body this way and that, examining him with the detached intensity of a scholar dissecting an anomaly.
'No cultivation traces. No residual energy signature of the prior outburst. Physically… unremarkable, aside from dense musculature. Yet capable of that instantaneous, overwhelming force? And such velocity…' Her brow furrowed slightly.
'A temporary catalyst? A forbidden art with severe backlash? Intriguing.' Finding no immediate answers, merely a paradox wrapped in mortal flesh, she pondered for a moment. Then, with another subtle gesture, Torvin's body vanished, sequestered by means unknown. Wu Qingcheng herself became a streak of light, merging with the distant horizon.
— — —
Time passed by and consciousness returned eventually, coalescing amidst muted light filtering through wooden slats. Torvin found himself horizontal, lying on a hard, simple bed within a small, dimly lit hut.
'Plain table, single chair. Spartan. Utilitarian. Location update: Unknown. Status: Alive. Condition: Debilitated, prior power surge fully depleted.'
He sat up, the movement stiff, muscles protesting vaguely. Running a hand through his tangled black hair, he scanned the confined space. Nothing of note. Austere to the point of poverty. He swung his legs off the bed, noting with mild irritation that his footwear remained on.
'Tsk, what an inhospitable savior.'
Pushing open the rough-hewn door, he was met once more by blinding sunlight. 'Seriously? Are clouds with a chance of meatballs forbidden in this dimension?'
He allowed his vision, still sharper than baseline human despite the power drain, to adjust. Stepping across the threshold, he nearly fell forward. Not due to the threshold itself, but the sheer, reality-bending vista that assaulted his senses.
Vast oceans of cloud swirled directly before him, tangible, reachable. Beyond them, range upon range of impossible mountain peaks stabbed skyward. Clinging to these vertical behemoths, visible through shifting veils of mist, were ancient, sprawling complexes – palaces, temples, pavilions – architecture ripped straight from the fandom image galleries of the xianxia novels he used to consume.
He glanced back at the primitive wooden shack he'd just exited. 'Disparity noted.'
In the distance, large cranes soared on invisible currents. Figures stood upon their backs – likely cultivators in flowing robes, exuding otherworldly detachment.
'Confirmation: High-fantasy cultivation setting.' But the question is, up to what degree? 'Hopefully not Reverend Insanity... but I can make do with Emperor's Domination, something like Warlock of the Magus World would perhaps be stretching it...'
"Damn this simulation is insanely good," Torvin muttered, a reflexive coping mechanism from his past life, even as he knew this was no VR. The memory of the power surge, the raw, tearing force – that had been real. The consequence, the current weakness, was also real.
'But what about the system?'
He focused inward, probing the subtle, internal feeling that had accompanied his arrival and the subsequent power burst. It wasn't a voice, not exactly. More like an internal heads-up display, a layer of biofeedback integrated with his consciousness.
[Bio-Interface: Active. Status: Nominal.] The response was flat, data-like.
Functions?
[Primary Functions: Physiological Monitoring, Data Collation & Organization (Calendar, Task Lists, Inventory Management). Secondary Function: Overdrive Protocol.]
'Overdrive Protocol. That was the power surge.' Torvin processed. Not an external item, but triggering an internal reserve. "Explain Overdrive Protocol limitations and consequences," He queried internally.
[Overdrive Protocol leverages latent Viltrumite potential reserves and peak human adrenal response. Achieves temporary supra-maximal physical output. Duration limited by physiological tolerance (currently approximated at 300 seconds).
Consequence: Severe systemic exhaustion, potential cellular degradation with repeated or prolonged use without adequate recovery. Current Status: Reserves depleted. Recovery Time Estimate: Variable, dependent on nutritional intake and rest.]
'So, a panic button. Borrowed power from myself, with significant cost. Pragmatic. Dangerous. Not a sustainable solution. And the rest… Data Collation? Inventory Management? Essentially… Microsoft Excel integrated into my brain?' The absurdity was almost jarring. He possesses the genetic potential of a Viltrumite, but being stranded in a world of magic and immortals, with a 'System' whose primary function was… excel spreadsheets.
'Balanced, perhaps. Ironically so.'
No easy power-ups, no instant skills. Just his baseline Viltrumite potential (still developing and barely understood), the dangerous Overdrive option, and… organization tools. Survival would depend on intellect, adaptation, and ruthless efficiency.
Currently, Torvin needed information. He needed resources. He needed to blend in. His actual name, Torvin Pierce, son of Kregg, was a liability here. He needed an alias. Something unassuming, yet fitting for this world. Drawing on countless hours of consumed fiction… 'Li Qiye.'
Yes, that had a certain ring to it, a touch of ironic gravitas.
Lost in thought, strategizing, he didn't register the silent approach until a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.
Instincts screamed. Torvin pivoted, not with the explosive Viltrumite speed he temporarily possessed before, but with a coiled, efficient readiness honed by years of observing fictional martial prowess and a nascent killer instinct. "Who goes there?!"
"Heh, calm yourself, little brother. Such… intense reactions."
Torvin focused on the speaker. Middle-aged, maybe fifty. Graying hair in a Taoist topknot. Square, honest face, thick brows, a short beard. Unassuming, yet his silent approach was noteworthy.
"Identify yourself. State your purpose," Torvin demanded, voice level, betraying none of the internal calculations.
"Hehe, no hostility intended. This humble one is Bai Ji," the man replied, stroking his beard.
"Bai Ji?" Torvin mentally filed the name. "My name," He paused, adopting the persona, "is Li Qiye. Where is this place, Elder Bai?" He used a respectful address common in the Wuxia he'd read, testing the local customs.
Bai Ji seemed slightly surprised by the formality, or perhaps the name. "Li Qiye… an unusual name. This is the Lanyue Palace." Pride laced his voice again.
"Lanyue Palace," Torvin repeated. "Never heard of it. Which region of the Northern Wilderness?" He maintained the cover, with the mention of Northern Wilderness as a shot in the dark.
"Ah, you truly are unfamiliar…" Bai Ji murmured, then seemed to remember the cover story. "You claim memory loss?"
"Affirmative. Fragmented recollection," Torvin confirmed smoothly. "My arrival here?"
"The Palace Master brought you," Bai Ji stated, still looking slightly perplexed by the fact. "A most unexpected event."
'It must be that cultivator...' Torvin mused inwardly, vividly recalling the moment with slight fear and trepidation.
"I require an audience with the Palace Master Wu. To express gratitude for her… intervention." However, to assess the situation clearly, Torvin could only stick his head out once again like a chicken delivering itself to the chopping block.
"The Palace Master will summon you if and when she desires. Patience, Young Friend Li."
Torvin gave a slight nod, accepting the bureaucratic obstacle for now. 'Protocol. Hierarchy.' Understanding the rules was key to manipulating them later. "Understood. In the meanwhile, Elder Bai," He continued, shifting tone slightly by gaslighting Elder Bai, "You mentioned duties?" Survival necessitated integration, however minimal. Resources wouldn't acquire nor deliver themselves onto the doorstep, after all.
"Ah, yes," Bai Ji nodded, seeming relieved to be on more familiar ground. "Since you are residing here, even as a guest of the Palace Master, basic contribution is expected. Simple tasks, fitting for an outer disciple…"