“Drag the bodies into the dungeon. Pile them somewhere. We can’t burn them inside and we don’t want to drag them out and attract predators. Move camp here.” Solder said, folding his arms.

  The work was done. He had sacrificed the lives of almost half of them. Less mouths to feed. Less coin purses to fill. He smiled at a job well done.

  The sparking ooze that had leaked from the wall was gone, and its in place was a fresh crack in the dungeon that had blocked his passage. He had been steadily feeding teams to the scenarios, waiting and watching for anyone to break their way through. When that failed, he sent through a party of his lieutenants to the lowest level scenario they could find.

  They failed too. When the door opened, they found a starved corpse.

  And two half eaten ones.

  They had opened that door only days ago despite sending them in weeks back. And now he was giving up on making it through with subtlety.

  Even now, a mining team was cracking their way through the wall, despite the pile of still warm corpses behind them.

  Solder frowned as the wall fell. It revealed a perfectly ordinary, flat room. He felt his face contort.

  All of that for nothing. Another empty room. Another depleted legacy.

  They needed to keep digging.

  “I am not a bandit! Nor a graverobber! I am a Noble scion of a Great House!” Poppy insisted.

  I shook my head. It was a pretty extreme lie for a bandit to commit to. Something more grounded would have been more believeable — like being from a family of farmers.

  “Okay. Then let’s start there. Tell me how you ended up here.”

  Poppy closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she took the room in.

  “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “If cultivation is truly entirely foreign to you, its unlikely that you will ever open that door. I do not know how long this place can continue to serve you food.” I said.

  Poppy sighed. Then she began to tell me a story.

  On the eastern side of this world, there was another continent — one ruled by three great houses and many vassals, where Poppy had been born. Every single dungeon on the world had been monopolized. Every last monster tamed, killed, or caged. Resources were fought over on lists hundreds of people long.

  The only way to secure access to any resource was to rank among either the best or most prestigious. Despite being the daughter of a great house, Poppy fell so low in line that she did not count as one — not over the many more deserving talents.

  But that left thousands desperate for more power, to raise their own Levels and Skills.

  “But without Cultivators, who rules your nations? Who defends your cities?”

  “People? Armies? Levels aren’t the most important part of governance, Feng.”

  “Call me Sai.”

  “Sai. Yes. Levels aren’t the most important part. Intelligence helps, yes, Willpower helps, yes, but they are not a replacement for knowledge of history and policy.”

  I nodded at that.

  “Your cultivators are some kind of Noble Warrior class, yes? How do they fare as governors?”

  “Cultivators who live and die by the sword seldom make good rulers.”

  Poppy nodded, then continued.

  With thousands upon thousands — hundreds of thousands — choked out for resources, and their only means of attaining them blocked by people greater, many made a desperate bid. On the western continent, across a great and terrifying ocean, was an ancient continent untouched by men, and overran with monsters.

  By signing up to become a Trailblazer, people were given passage across the continent, packed into great ships that crossed the ocean, and dumped at its shore. Even now, colonization missions dotted the coasts, consuming the forests and ripping the untouched natural resources from the ground. And the Three Houses stayed idle.

  This is where they were — the Savage Expanse, an untouched frontier, lawless beyond the reach of its walled cities, where brave adventurers died by the hundreds.

  As Poppy continued, she explained the bad deal she made — the cursed artifact bound to her finger in the shape of a ring that trapped her here.

  “Apologies — why not just remove the finger? If you need, I can lend you my sword.” I grabbed the handle of my blade.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Poppy paled and shook her head.

  “No no. It will destroy the levels I’ve gained since I equipped it too.”

  “But surely if it’s taking so much of your progress, it will be faster to regain those levels without it, yes?” I asked.

  “That’s not — I’m not cutting off my finger. Unless things are truly desperate. And before I can do that, I have to get out of this room and make sure my friends are okay. Anna and Thane came with me.”

  Poppy explained how she ended up in the scenario room — the daily quota of kills for food, all feeding power back to Solder, the final push into the labrynth, and the cultivator ghost that kills dozens of men.

  “It sounds like the ghost may have been part of a scenario. I think that black liquid that was leaking from the walls is what powers these rooms, and when it was cracked open, the scenario spilled out into reality.”

  Poppy nodded.

  “Excuse me a moment.” I said, crossing the room. While we were talking, I was slowly refilling my core. My last attempt had drained me entirely — thought it was successful. The pillar at the door way still held the scar of where I had cut it previously. I freed my sword, steadied by breathing, assumed the first form, and swung.

  My blade made no noise as it passed through the rest of the pillar. There was, however, an audible crack a moment after, as the pillar began to topple and fall.

  The image of the doorway behind it rushed forward, and the pillar disappeared.

  I stared at the edge of the door way. On the left side, at the end of where I had cut the pillar, there was a tiny cut in the door frame. It was from me, I knew it.

  The World Severing Sword Art had cut two places at once. I wasn’t sure what that meant yet. I sheathed my sword and turned back to Poppy with a sigh.

  [Scenario complete!]

  [Generating rewards…]

  [Damaged Spirit Repair Progress: 14%]

  [New Cultivation]

  [Anti-Light Sword Art][Attainment: 10%]

  [Legacy Authority Two Progress: 5%]

  I was done with this Scenario. Only a piddling 2% more progress on restoring my core. I just had to leave through the open door. But I had promised to help her in exchange for her information.

  The situation she was in wasn’t fair. I, myself, found myself here for many of the same reasons — without access to the resources of the clan, I had been unable to advance. My struggle was no less desperate.

  It wasn’t as if the information would be dangerous. Without years of practice and study, she wouldn’t be able to cultivate or form a core, and when this scenario ended, she wouldn’t have the illusory anti-light core inside of her.

  Though this room looked and felt the same as the labyrinth, I knew it wasn’t real. Because I didn’t have a core in the real world.

  I sat back down across from Poppy.

  “Let’s start with breathing exercises. First, you need to learn to sense qi. The Anti-Light qi of this scenario will make this extra difficult for you. But… maybe the Dantian can make it easier.”

  It took Poppy more than an hour to just find and sense her dantian. But it did make it easier to sense her qi. I listed out her meridians one by one, calling attention to the names. Like the projected dantian, the Scenario provided her with meridians too. It made me frown, internally contemplating whether I was inside of my own body at all, or just projected into an illusion of it.

  Surprisingly, it only took her three more to begin to sense qi.

  “Are you sure?” I asked again.

  Poppy nodded.

  “This is not dissimilar from the techniques my family’s instructors taught me, though those are aimed at manipulating our stats — not… qi.”

  Once Poppy got the hang of it, we practiced the forms. I had to admit she was disciplined — she had clearly seen professional training in her life.

  Not enough, but it was a start. After hours of drilling the forms, we finally tried the technique.

  She swung. I corrected her. She swung again.

  After eighteen attempts, she paused where hse mirrored me across the thin wall between us.

  “How long do you think this will take?” She asked. “It can’t be this easy, right? I just learn this technique and we’re out?”

  Poppy’s earlier nervous excitement had been giving way sowly and steadily to an open fear and distress. She was in a rush.

  “Hurrying won’t make this faster. Mastering a cultivation technique to the first step of attainment can take weeks.”

  Poppy squinted at me.

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Three meals.” I said.

  “And… how often is this place feeding you?”

  “About three times a day, equally spaced, if I had to guess.” I said with a shrug. “I’ve been down here for… maybe a week, now.”

  We drilled, and drilled, and drilled, until Poppy was too exhausted to continue. She was covered in sweat. When the second meal arrived, she half dragged the food over and half collapsed on the floor.

  After a moment, she took the half empty jug of water from the meal prior and poured it on her hands before washing her face, then her hair.

  I could tell she was stronger than a mortal — and entirely through [Skills] and [Attributes.] She was able to train without rest for hours, and despite the long day stretching on, she seemed no where near ready to sleep.

  “I think my Dantian is empty.” Poppy said aftering eating.

  “Then we refill it.”

  We went on for an entire day like this, practicing, refining, practicing, refining.

  “This isn’t working!” Poppy said angrily. “My core is empty again. This isn’t going to work. My friends could be dying out there.”

  “I understand your frustration. But a cultivator must always keep their heart cool. You must be patient and diligent.”

  “We’re out of time for that!” Poppy said.

  “Hold.” I said, raising a palm. “You need to rest. You will not manage to master the technique in this much distress.”

  Poppy continued to struggle for hours more. I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was only giving her a few pointers, the respect one should show a teacher was higher.

  I glanced at the door way, then back to Poppy.

  Like most bandits, she was a victim of her circumstances. I had no obligation to uphold the Feng laws so far from home. This place was different.

  I could help her.

  I decided I would rest. Come tomorrow, after she had struggled until she exhausted herself, I would cut open the wall between us and lead her out. Cross legged and upright, I slept.

  I was rudely awoken by a cracking noise. I drew my sword in alarm, shooting to my feet. Memories flashed through my mind of sleeping in the wilderness or training exercises being awoken to fight, and my heart raced.

  But the only thing here was Poppy. She was panting, her fist outstretched toward the pillar. Her sword and shield were on the ground. She staggered back toward me, then sat cross legged, a vicious grin on her face as she drank in qi greedily and with more proficiency than many cultivators. The power in the air shifted.

  “You see that?” She asked.

  I sheathed my sword with a frown, crossing closer to her pillar.

  Its surface was marred by multiple images — depressions carved into the white stone, images of Poppy’s fist.

  My eyes widened in alarm.

  “You altered the Sword Art. Poppy, that’s incredibly dangerous.”

  I stepped back toward her.

  “You could have ended your own life doing that.”

  “But I didn’t.” She said. “I’ve got it now. I understand it.”

  “What did you do?”

  Her vicious smile returned.

  “I combined the World Severing Art with my own [Skill.]”