Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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The hall lay steeped in silence, yet the air thrummed with the weight of unspoken words, as though it cradled ancient tales too vast to voice. Soft light spilled across the walls, painting them in hues of gold and emerald, each corner imbued with the mystique of secrets held for centuries. At the heart of the room stood an oval table of aged wood, its surface etched with fiery dragons coiled in timeless dance—marks of a history known to few.
Yang Wei lingered there, his gaze cutting through the veil of the visible, as if he could unravel the hidden truths within every soul present. His dark hair cascaded like a shadow cast by a waning moon, framing a face both serene and unyielding, a mask that betrayed none of the thoughts stirring beneath. He stood apart from the murmurs around him, his attention fixed on a translucent screen aglow with knowledge only he could decipher.
The stillness shattered when an older man, voice trembling with hesitation, ventured closer.
"Yang Wei," he began, cautious as if stepping near a dragon's lair, "you always seem so far away. Is there nothing you might share with us?"
Yang raised his eyes briefly, their depths speaking volumes where words were spared.
"What I hold remains mine alone," he replied, his tone steady and sharp, laced with a quiet warning that needed no elaboration. "It's not meant to fill the idle hours of others."
The man shrank back, the weight of those words pressing upon him, their echo hanging in the air like a lingering mist.
Nearby, a young woman observed, her voice a hushed breath tinged with reproach.
"Always so guarded," she murmured. "Won't that stir trouble in time?"
Yang's gaze remained on the screen, but a faint smile—elusive, almost imperceptible—curved his lips, radiating calm.
"Our words reveal who we are," he said, his voice a gentle current beneath the surface. "And sometimes, silence carries more than a flood of careless chatter."
His words drifted outward, settling like dust upon an ancient scroll.
The atmosphere thickened, heavy with unspoken tension, until the hall stirred with change. Firm footsteps rang out, and two figures entered, claiming the empty seats with an aura that shifted the room's quiet mystery into something alive, poised to unfold.
One newcomer, a man with eyes that pierced like a hawk's, approached Yang with bold curiosity.
"Yang Wei," he said, his tone a blend of reverence and challenge, "they say you bear stories no one else holds. Isn't it time to let even a fragment slip free?"
Yang studied him for a moment, weighing his response as though balancing a blade.
"Some truths are meant to be felt, not spoken," he answered, his fingers tracing the air as if weaving memories too sacred to share.
Undeterred, the man pressed on.
"But isn't it through words that we bend fate's course? If silence matters so much, why not wield speech to light a path—even a winding one?"
The exchange swelled, drawing others in. The older man spoke again, his voice now firm yet brimming with feeling.
"Holding everything inside grows heavy, Yang. Perhaps it's time to release just a whisper, if only for a fleeting moment."
The young woman, silent until now, joined the fray, her words threading hope with caution.
"Clinging to such stillness can be perilous," she said. "Too deep a mystery becomes a cage, binding both the keeper and what lies within."
Yang fell quiet, his eyes sweeping over them, each face a mirror to his solitude. At last, a sigh escaped him, heavy with the weight of years.
"Perhaps one day these tales will find their way into the light," he murmured. "But for now, my path is mine to tread alone."
Their voices reached him, yet he remained unshaken, accustomed to probes veiled as questions. His mind roamed elsewhere, unmoored from the moment. The silence fractured once more as new footsteps echoed through the hall. Two additional figures arrived, settling into the vacant chairs, their presence threading fresh tension into the air.
As the others adjusted to the shift, Yang's focus returned to the shimmering screen before him. His fingers moved with a dancer's grace, brushing against unseen threads of power.
✦ Host Status ✦
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Basic Information ✧
Name: Yang Wei | Age: 30 years | Race: Human
Title: Heir of the Ancestral Blood
Lineage: Blood of the Ancestral Dragon
Talents:
Physical ✦ Ancestral Dragon Physique
Mental ✦ Awakened Mind
Soul ✦ Refined Soul
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Cultivation ✧
Cultivation Level: Divine Domain (Intermediate)
Cultivation Technique: Path of the Celestial Dragon (Evolved)
Domains:
Spiritual Realm ✦ Dao Holy Land
Spiritual Mansion ✦ Golden Dragon Peak
Personal Dimension ✦ None
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Techniques ✧
Combat ✦ Celestial Dragon Claw
Slashing attack infused with draconic energy
Movement ✦ Ancestral Wind Steps
Superhuman speed and agility
Defense ✦ Ancestral Dragon Scales
Impenetrable physical barrier
Support ✦ Golden Dragon Roar
Boosts group resilience and strength
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Unique Abilities ✧
Physical:
Advanced Regeneration ✦Heals wounds in moments
Draconic Strengthening ✦Strength amplified fivefold
Mental:
Illusion Resistance ✦Immunity to mental assaults
Movement Prediction ✦Foretells enemy actions
Soul:
Spiritual Connection ✦Communion with ancestral spirits
Spiritual Burst ✦Unleashes a torrent of soul energy
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Elements ✧
Mastered ✦ Fire | Wind | Earth | Water
Sealed ✦ Light | Darkness
━�━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Equipment ✧
Primary Weapon:
Red Dragon Spear ✦
Artifacts:
Dragon Pearl ✦
Guardian Scale ✦
Consumables:
Regeneration Pill ✦
Fire Dragon Fruit ✦
✦ End of Status ✦
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Yang dismissed the screen with a swift, subtle gesture, as though it were merely the prelude to a grander tale. His gaze, cold yet keen, locked with that of a newcomer—a brash youth radiating fearless confidence. A faint smile touched Yang's lips, devoid of warmth, steeped in enigma.
They have no inkling of what lies ahead, he thought.
The air in the hall grew dense, almost palpable, a harbinger of something vast approaching. While the others fidgeted with restless unease, Yang alone remained an island of calm, as if he already glimpsed the shape of things to come.
Silence reigned, pierced only by faint whispers from the glowing screen. Within its light, a figure of intense presence seemed adrift in realms beyond reach. Yang Wei—his name itself a riddle wrapped in shadow. Though his body rested there, his spirit wandered distant horizons.
The tension mounted, and the group's leader sought to ease it.
"Yang Wei, you're quieter than usual today," he ventured. "Anything worth letting us in on?"
Yang turned to him, a small, distant smile playing on his lips.
"What belongs to me stays locked within," he said, his voice a smooth blade of composure. "It's not here to amuse anyone."
His words landed like stones cast into a still pond, rippling silence anew as some averted their eyes in discomfort. From the shadows, a woman's voice emerged, soft yet edged with impatience.
"Always so removed," she muttered. "That's bound to stir trouble."
Yang met her stare with tranquil assurance, his eyes a well of unreadable depths. Every syllable he uttered was deliberate, every motion a testament to his mastery over himself.
Then, the hall trembled with the sound of footsteps once more. Two figures entered, taking their seats without a word. Eyes darted between them, but silence held.
With a breath as light as a falling leaf, Yang returned to the radiant screen—the cultivation system that had reshaped his existence. Holding 20 billion points, a question lingered in his mind, quiet yet insistent: How many more must I claim to transcend?
Each passing second bore the scent of the unknown, and in that space brimming with anticipation, Yang stood as a pillar, grasping the reins of his own fate.
"System," he whispered, fingers poised as if brushing an invisible thread, "how many points do I need to raise my body and mind to the Dragon God tier?"
The reply came swift and clear.
"You possess 20 billion points now. To attain the Dragon God Physique and match it in mind, you require 50 billion. You lack 30 billion more."
Yang paused, each digit a piece in a vast design unfolding within him.
How does one amass such a sum? he wondered, a thread of doubt weaving through his resolve.
"How can I gather so many points?" he asked aloud, his voice a blend of curiosity and determination.
The system's response was flat, yet heavy with implication.
"You've stepped onto a path carved by a goddess near-eternal in her reign."
The words sank into him, a warning he couldn't ignore, a reminder that every gain bore a cost. Yet the mystery of what he'd claimed gnawed at him still.
Moments later, the system spoke again, its tone laden with foreboding.
"Yes and no. This destiny you've seized stems from a source I cannot fully grasp. The technique you wielded to rise carries a hidden mark. When you ascend to the Immortal and Divine realm, its maker will sense your presence—and with that, the danger grows. That's why your points have surged."
A faint crease marred Yang's brow, his expression hinting at the perilous game he now played.
"How great is this risk?" he asked, his voice firm, braced for the worst.
The system's answer bore a gravity that chilled the air.
"The danger is profound. The creator of that technique wields power beyond your current ken. Upon reaching the Immortal and Divine realm, their awareness of you will sharpen—not merely as knowledge, but as a call to hunt or to clash. Your points reflect both your ascent and the shadow you've drawn upon yourself. Prepare, for they may come to reclaim what you've taken—or to extinguish a rising threat."
Yang absorbed the revelation, his thoughts a storm beneath his calm exterior. The road he'd chosen was treacherous, yet it was the only one forward. Power always demanded sacrifice, but now that price loomed larger than ever.
"Understood," he murmured, more to himself than the system. "I'll hasten my cultivation and claim those points swiftly. There's no retreat now."
With resolve igniting within him, Yang turned back to the hall, where hushed voices still wove through the air. The journey ahead promised peril, but he carried the strength—and the will—to meet it. For now, he'd walk alone, bearing his secrets and the burden of his fate.
As the hall gradually emptied, Yang lingered, plotting his next move. The path to the Dragon God tier stretched long and shadowed, yet he stood ready to face it. Challenges, no matter their scale, had always been his to conquer.
And so, with the weight of destiny pressing upon him, Yang Wei rose and stepped from the hall, his stride unwavering, his purpose clear. The tale was far from its end, and he would see it through—whatever that end might be.