One year passed quietly.
Amon and Airi had become lovers. They lived in the upper quarters of the Sect now, well-respected, feared by the younger disciples, ignored by the elders.
Amon didn't mind. He didn't care much for status anymore. He just wanted peace. But peace didn't mean detachment, not this time.
They were in bed, unclothed. Airi curled up beside him and exhaled slowly, eyes half-closed, content.
"…You know," she said, voice playful, "my life's been… surprisingly happy. I didn't expect that when I tried to stab your Sect Master."
"People change."
"You changed me."
"You let yourself change."
They were quiet for a while. The moonlight hit the side of her cheek, and she turned to face him with a small grin.
"…One more round?"
"No," he muttered. "I'm tired."
"Oh," she said. "I see. Because it's small…"
He frowned. "It'll grow."
She laughed. "Amon, you're forty-one. How can it grow? Just embrace it."
"You're twenty-seven. I don't see you outgrowing your pettiness."
She kissed the back of his shoulder. "You love it."
He didn't answer. He was too busy thinking.
Small, she said.
He blinked.
Small? Again?
He sat up slightly. His brows furrowed.
That word had been said in every life. Not the exact insult, not the same voice, but the same judgment.
In his first life, back when he was Lucian, he noticed it was small. In his second, he was mocked by Veyra. Even in his third, as a samurai, it came up again. Why?
And not just that.
The blade.
The class.
The private part.
Those three things appeared each time, no matter the body, no matter the nation, no matter the name. He didn't pick them. The system never offered him a choice.
It's not random, he realized.
He closed his eyes.
So Why this class? Why this blade? Why this damn private part?
But he didn't care either way.
If she teased him, so what? If others surpassed him, so be it. He trained anyway. And more importantly, he taught her.
Airi had the talent, but she needed structure. So he gave her what he created through countless failures.
The first was Lazy Serpent Coil—a martial art that dodged everything with minimal movement and struck only when enemies were exhausted.
Then, Unmoved Rice Bowl Form—a passive stance that absorbed pressure and channeled it into short bursts of brutal retaliation.
Finally, Deadbeat Palm, a style that made each strike weaker, slower, and cheaper—but built momentum with every miss, stacking until it shattered defenses.
All three were born from life where he failed to care, failed to act, failed to move—so now he made that weakness into strength.
But he didn't just teach his own.
From the Sect, he'd mastered the Twin Ember Palm, Dragon-Tongue Breathing, and Vein Scorch Binding Arts—techniques that refined the body, bolstered inner fire, and suppressed enemies with burning will.
He was now Tier 5 of the Willed Realm.
Not bad, and not good either.
Once he passed this, he could gain new pathways, awaken stronger principles, and forge original techniques again. But he wasn't there yet.
Kana and Zai Ren was already in the Bound Realm. Even Airi, who started late, broke through last month.
And him?
He was still here.
---
Months later, in the quiet of their room, a newspaper lay on the floor. It was the same one—the very newspaper that had come before.
That meant someone was still watching him through all his lives. Or was it?
No, that wasn't right.
Last time, someone had sent it to him. This newspaper was anchored in the timeline—it was fated to reach him no matter what.
He picked it up and scanned the headlines again.
The war between Ebonrose and Eldoria, the rise of the pale-faced boy ruling Ebonrose, the endless battles, and most of all, the fate of Princess Guinevere.
The familiar words stabbed him, but this time, there was no calm acceptance. If someone was watching him, he should be scared, cautious, careful.
But instead, panic swallowed him whole. He couldn't breathe. The thought that everything might be controlled, watched, even manipulated, crushed his chest.
His hands trembled, and the paper slipped from his fingers to the floor with a soft thud.
He tossed it aside and shoved his doubts deep down.
That night, while the whole Sect rested, he trained. He pushed himself harder than ever before, practicing moves, perfecting stances, refining breathing.
Sweat poured from his skin, and his muscles screamed, but he didn't stop.
Then, the moment came—an explosive breakthrough.
His body shuddered. His vision blurred. And suddenly, it felt like he was no longer chained.
He had broken through to the Bound Meridian Realm.
"Let's go," he whispered.
He was finally on the same level as Kana, Zai Ren, and Airi.
Still, he was tiers behind them—no sudden leap, but he was climbing.
He walked into the room and saw Airi asleep, peaceful and unaware of his struggle.
She lay curled beneath the blankets, hair spread over the pillow.
Without a second thought, he slipped under the covers beside her and felt calm for the first time in a long while.
Morning came with soft light, and as Airi stretched awake, she saw him at the small wooden desk, scribbling on parchment.
"What's that?"
He looked up, a shy smile crossing his lips. "A technique I'm developing."
"You're actually talented, Amon. No person could develop four martial arts in a single year—except you."
He chuckled quietly. Truth was, he hadn't created them all in just one year. Some had come from fragments of memories, others from past failures. Still, it felt good to hear that praise, especially from her.
"Thanks," he said softly.
Days passed, and now that Amon had reached the Bound Meridian Realm, everything slowed down.
The rush he once felt while rising through the lower tiers was gone.
Each step forward demanded more from his body, more from his soul, more from his will.
He remembered Karou's words, the leader who reached the Soul Vessel Rebirth Realm. "The higher you go, the longer you'll stay stuck," Karou had said.
"One Realm can take a hundred years to master. That's the price of power in the true path."
Amon didn't doubt it. He could feel it now—like dragging his feet through deep mud. One breakthrough in this realm was a battle of its own.
Still, he wasn't the only one struggling. The entire Sect trained harder now.
The elders were stricter, the missions more dangerous, and the expectations higher. He wasn't just fighting to grow stronger for himself. He had to protect Airi, Kana, and Zai Ren.
Karou had also spoken to him about the world beyond. "This is just a branch Sect," he'd said. "One leaf of the forest. In the Blue Petal Region alone, there are over a hundred Sects, each one stronger than the last."
He named them too. "The Frozen Lotus Sword Sect, The Thousand Grave Path, The Crimson Butterfly Union, and the Ashen Coil Monastery."
Amon could barely keep up. Those names sounded straight out of the manhwas he used to skim back on Earth.
He remembered laughing at them. Back then, he couldn't get into cultivation stories. There were too many flowery names, too many talking swords, and too many power levels stacked on top of more power levels. He was a system manhwa guy.
Now? Now he was living in one.
And it wasn't funny anymore.
It was hard. The grind never stopped. And there were no stats to show how much his suffering counted.
But he kept going.
Because he had to.
---
Under the wide canopy of the Twin Headed Flame Sect's inner courtyard, Amon unrolled the mission scroll Karou had handed him.
Kana leaned forward, arms crossed. Zai Ren was already sharpening his blade out of habit. Airi sat beside Amon, watching his expression more than the scroll.
"We're heading to the southern edge of the Blue Petal region. There's a beast there—called the Hollow Spine Serpent. It's not just a monster. It's a cultivation-class aberration. Old as the soil, apparently. It once swallowed a Sect whole, and now it's coiled around the ruins like a nest."
"That name sounds made up," Kana muttered.
"It's real," Amon said. "Karou called it a Tier-Three Spirit Beast. If you don't know what that means, it's strong enough to fight three Bound Realm cultivators at once and still crawl away alive."
"So why us?" Zai Ren asked, sliding his blade into its sheath. "Why not the elders?"
Amon didn't pause. "Because it's not just about killing it. There's a flower that blooms from its corpse. A Spirit Core Bloom. We need it. Karou thinks it can push someone past the Bound Meridian Realm bottleneck."
Zai Ren frowned. "He's using us to fetch a treasure."
"No," Amon said. "This is the first time he's lumped us all together under one command. It's not a coincidence. And if we succeed, we're not just core disciples anymore—we'll get to choose our cultivation paths freely. We'll stop being trainees."
Airi gripped his sleeve. "And you still said yes?"
He looked at her. "We've fought worse."
"No, you have," she said. "Not us."
"I trust you," he said quietly. "All of you."
And if I'm wrong… I'll still fix it next time.
---
The caravan wheels sank into mud as they entered the mist-thick forest of the Blue Petal region.
Amon walked ahead of the group. Zai Ren walked beside him.
"So," Zai said after a while, brushing a leaf off his shoulder, "what's this Hollow Spine Serpent supposed to look like? Giant snake? Human face? Ghost body?"
Amon kept walking. "No idea."
Zai clicked his tongue. "Helpful."
"I wasn't told. Karou only gave the name and location," Amon said, stepping over a tree root. "Not even the scroll had a sketch. He just said it's older than most sects."
Airi walked silently behind them. Kana trailed behind.
Then the world shifted.
The ground shook.
The caravan horses panicked, pulling against their reins. Amon turned sharply, instincts kicking in—
Then it came.
A massive serpent, covered in scales, slithered into the clearing ahead.
Its body coiled and uncoiled as if stretching after a long sleep.
And then—
DING.
[Side Quest Available]
[Defeat The Hollow Spine Serpent]
[Death Limit: 300]
Amon's eyes narrowed.
Three hundred…
The serpent didn't attack.
Then, with a voice as clear as a noble, it spoke.
"You approach with weapons. You stink of purpose. State your reason."
Kana froze. "It talks—?"
Amon stepped forward. "We're disciples of the Twin Headed Flame Sect. We seek the Spirit Core Bloom from your corpse."
The serpent didn't move. Its tongue flicked out slowly. "So, it is blood you want. Not trade."
Zai Ren muttered, "Why would we trade with a snake?"
The serpent's neck split open.
From within, arms grew—long, jagged, formed of bone and black sinew.
They cracked into place, and with them, came claws.
"Then you shall receive blood."
Amon drew Kusanagj.
"Form up!" he shouted.
And the serpent lunged.