The morning mist curled around the cultivation node Jun had awakened, tendrils of vapor drawn to the stone rings as if even the environment acknowledged what he had done. The once-silent clearing now pulsed gently with residual energy, the lingering breath of ancient cultivators whispering through the grass.
Jun remained seated, his posture stable but his body drained. His breath technique had worked—he had touched a piece of something ancient. And now, as the node slowly retracted into the earth, the game's world bent slightly around him.
Root Node Cooling: 12 Hours Remaining
It was the first time he'd seen a cooldown indicator tied to a location, not an ability. The message was faint, glitching slightly—as if even the system itself didn't fully recognize what had occurred.
He stood and stretched. The air around him carried weight, an almost imperceptible resistance, like walking through heavy water. His spirit sensed it before his mind caught up.
He was being watched.
Real World | Pressure Mounting
In the real world, the tension was rising.
"Jun, your vitals are showing strain again." Minase's voice came through Sora's wrist device. She was in the apartment now, monitoring Jun's pod in person. Her tablet flickered, struggling to interpret the irregular signals from the interface.
"Is he pushing another technique?" Sora asked, pacing.
"More than that," Minase said. "He's begun interacting with unstable system sectors. The kind no one's accessed since closed alpha. We're talking legacy dev builds."
Sora's eyes widened. "That stuff was locked for a reason."
"Yeah," Minase replied, looking grim. "Because they couldn't control it."
Cultivation as Interface
Back in the game, Jun followed the threads deeper into a mist-filled ravine. The terrain changed—less procedural, more… hand-designed. Here, the rocks bore etchings similar to those on the shrine. Lines of code and art, blended.
He stepped lightly, his breath syncing with his steps—inhale on the rise, exhale on the descent. The threads responded, guiding him through a seemingly random maze.
He was starting to understand. The threads weren't a navigation system. They were the root logic of the world. The foundational Dao.
You have entered: Forgotten Echo Ravine Monster Presence: Suppressed Cultivation Density: High
He saw it then—data not displayed by the default UI, but projected through his spiritual awareness. He could now feel cultivation density, like temperature shifts.
More signs followed:
Technique Interface Enabled (Breath-Sync Mode) New Feature Unlocked: Spiritual Imprint
Spiritual Imprint?
As he meditated near a moss-covered stone, a menu unfurled before him. But it didn't list skills or items.
Instead, it showed:
Imprint 01: Vein of Forgotten Flame
Imprint Slots Remaining: 2/5
Node Sync: 1 Active (12h Cooldown)
The spiritual imprint was a kind of internal library, but not just for storing. Each imprint grew stronger the more he understood it. Mastery was no longer experience-based—it was enlightenment-based.
He inhaled sharply.
This was the Rootless system—a buried framework for cultivation that predated stat menus and skill trees. A foundation designed not for balance, but for growth without limits.
Hidden Dangers
Jun's senses flared. Behind him, a shape emerged from the fog.
It wasn't a player. Nor a mob.
It was an echo.
A blurred humanoid form stepped forward—draped in simple robes, its face unreadable. It didn't attack. Instead, it sat down opposite Jun, mirroring his breath.
Encounter: Rootless Echo Classification: Memory Residue Interaction Type: Non-System Dialogue
Jun felt the pull. He followed the breath pattern.
Slow. Measured. Centered in the dantian.
The world seemed to pause.
And then, the echo spoke—not with words, but memory.
We were many. Hidden beneath the layers of code. Bound by breath, not stats. We cultivated where others played.
Jun asked aloud, "Why hide it?"
The echo replied, in images—admins overwriting ancient nodes, replacing techniques with balanced skill trees, sealing shrines beneath event maps. The Rootless system had been buried, not broken.
It ended with one final message:
Unseal the Nine Breath Shrines. Only then will you remember who you are.
And the echo dissolved.
A New Goal
Jun stood in the ravine as the mist receded slightly. A marker now burned in his internal vision:
Breath Shrine Discovered: 1/9 Inner Root Progression Unlocked Branching Path Available
Two trails lit before him—one through the dense forest to the north, pulsing with fire and pressure. The other, a path into the mountains, colder, with slow, deliberate resonance.
The game had always offered quest branches. But this felt different.
This was cultivation branching. Breath paths.
And his choice would not only determine power, but identity.
Jun smiled. "Let's see what they buried in the mountain."
He stepped toward the colder path.
The breath in his chest steadied.
His Dao was only just beginning.