It took a while for her to truly calm down before she could feel the Spiritual Energy being pushed through her body again. She used the time to inspect what was really happening, since she had noticed that the System didn’t explain much about how accumulation worked—or where the energy actually went inside her body.

  She kept her focus on the flow while combing through the memories she had left—scraps from the cultivation novels she once read. That was when she noticed it: the energy circulated through three different locations, yet accumulated in only one of them.

  Just below her navel, deep inside her core, she sensed the energy pooling bit by bit. Then a sharp, shooting sensation—something she had never experienced before—surged throughout her body in a single sweep. She had no idea how much time passed before she finally stopped.

  The System interrupted her.

  [Spiritual Energy: 100 / 100]

  [Spiritual Energy Accumulation complete]

  [Minor Breakthrough Achieved: Level 1 → Level 2]

  [Status]

  Name: ???

  Race: Human

  Level: 2 (Lower Stage) — Qi Condensation

  Main Class: Cultivator

  Sub Class: Swordsman

  Title: Immortal Sword Cultivator

  Health: 110 / 110

  Stamina: 80 / 110

  Spiritual Energy: 100 / 200

  Attributes:

  Body: 10 + 1

  Dexterity: 10

  Comprehension: 10 + 1

  Luck: 10 + 1

  Cultivation Attributes (new)

  Prerequisite Met: Skill — Minor Spiritual Energy Sense

  Spirit Roots: Heavenly Wood Root, Heavenly Water Root

  Skills:

  Void Flower Steps (Unique)

  Nine-Lotus Sword Art (Unique)

  Minor Spiritual Energy Sense (Rare)

  Minor Identify (Common)

  She stared for a moment, stunned. Then she took a slow breath and looked again. At this point she should have been jumping for joy at leveling up—but whether it was the after-effects of the trance or simply the surreal nature of everything, she instead felt oddly restless.

  “I… leveled up,” she mumbled. “So it’s not about killing monsters or gaining EXP?”

  She looked from the glowing panel to her own hands.

  “That makes sense. I’m a cultivator, not some character in an MMORPG.”

  Then she noticed the new tab: Cultivation Attributes.

  She wondered why it hadn’t appeared earlier; though in truth, she’d expected something like it eventually. But there were no details—no explanations, no cultivation stages listed beyond what she already knew.

  “I guess I’ll figure it out later,” she muttered, refusing to spiral.

  Then she examined her new skills.

  [Minor Identify]

  Identify any object or creature that is known to you.

  Additional information will unlock as your knowledge increases.

  [Minor Spiritual Energy Sense]

  Sense Spiritual Energy and its fluctuations within a 50-meter radius.

  Touching an object or creature reveals if it contains Spiritual Energy.

  Range and accuracy scale with Comprehension.

  She realized immediately where these new skills came from, and excitement briefly overwhelmed her. The first skill was something she always considered a staple in fantasy stories—but the System’s attitude made it feel a bit… useless. Still, she couldn’t deny how much she appreciated the second skill. It might be her only clue for improving her accumulation speed.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  But then her eyes drifted back to her status panel.

  Her excitement died.

  “Two hundred…” she whispered. “Two. Hundred. Spiritual Energy capacity. Seriously?”

  She dragged her hands down her face.

  “Do they expect me to sit here for—what? Ten hours? Twenty? Just breathing and pretending I’m some enlightened sage?”

  She threw her hands up.

  “Who designed this? Who volunteers for cultivation systems that take literal centuries? This is worse than grinding EXP!”

  Then she froze, lips flattening.

  “…I’m the one who picked ‘Cultivator,’ didn’t I?”

  The System flickered helpfully.

  [Welcome to Cultivation: Where progress crawls and patience dies.]

  She stared at it.

  “…I’m going to punch you.”

  [Warning: User has insufficient Body stat for effective damage.]

  “Stop helping.”

  She sighed—long, frayed, exhausted. Her stomach growled sharply. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was. Hours… maybe more… had passed. The dim ruins made time feel unreal.

  “Food,” she muttered. “Right. Food. Water. Anything that isn’t a murderous slime or a wolf trying to chew on me.”

  She stood, shaky but determined, and stepped out into the shadowed hall. The ruins felt colder now—as if breaking through had drained warmth from more than just her body. Stone corridors stretched out in ancient lines—cracked murals, collapsed archways, pillars leaning like exhausted giants.

  She wandered slowly, brushing her hand along the walls to keep her bearings. Hunger sharpened her senses in brief bursts before fading back into a dull ache.

  Then she felt it—

  a faint discrepancy.

  A seam in the wall.

  Or rather… a mistake.

  She paused and pressed her hand against the stone.

  A cold, thin breeze slipped between her fingertips.

  “…A hidden room?”

  She shoved experimentally.

  The wall shifted inward a few centimeters.

  “Okay—no—that’s definitely a hidden room!”

  She pushed harder, the stone panel grinding open just enough for her to slip through.

  The space inside was cramped and suffocatingly old. Dust coated everything in thick gray layers. It looked like a forgotten servant’s quarter attached to the ancient ruin. A cracked table, a collapsed stool, fragments of pottery… and in the corner, buried under years of grime, sat an old trunk.

  Her heart jumped—a starved, desperate flutter.

  “Oh please… please be something good.”

  She knelt and checked for traps—standard procedure for any dungeon explorer. Nothing unusual. She tugged the lid open.

  A faint scent of rot. Cloth. Damp. Age.

  Then—

  Green.

  A layered green robe lay inside. Elegant despite the centuries. Soft green fabric with white accents and delicate silver embroidery of curling stems and wallflowers.

  Her breath caught.

  She reached out, fingers shaking, touching the robe.

  The fabric shimmered faintly at her touch.

  [Item Identified: Green Robe]

  Description: …It is green.

  “Seriously?” she croaked. “That’s the description?”

  Her lips trembled. The absurdity hit like a hammer.

  Then she saw what lay beneath the robe: undergarments.

  Clean.

  Whole.

  Untouched by rot.

  Not slime-burned.

  Soft.

  And something in her simply broke.

  A choked sound escaped—half laugh, half sob. Her fingers curled into the fabric, gripping it with white-knuckled relief. She pressed the robe to her chest as tears blurred the world.

  “Oh thank god… or ancestors… or—finally—clothes—actual clothes—”

  A shaky laugh pushed through her tears.

  “Not rags. Not melted. Not—ugh, I look like a feral cave goblin…”

  She tried to admire the embroidery, mumbling through tears:

  “It’s like… elvish? But also—kind of cultivation-fairy elegant… and the silver trim—why is it so pretty—”

  Halfway through her own commentary, she was already stripping off the shredded remains of her garments, crying as she went.

  She slipped into the undergarments with frantic relief—almost tripping—then wrapped herself in the robe. Soft. Warm. Gentle on her skin. It fit her body as if it had been waiting for her.

  “What are the stats on this? It’s so comfortable…”

  She hugged herself, sleeves falling elegantly despite her shaking.

  She breathed—deep and real.

  She almost felt human again.

  She wiped her eyes. “Okay… okay… I can do this. I can figure things out.”

  Her stomach growled aggressively.

  “Right. Food. One problem at a time.”

  She took one last breath and stepped out of the servant quarters. Nothing edible was hidden inside—no herbs, no dried fruit, no forgotten snacks. Just dust, scraps of wood, and that sanity-saving robe.

  “Okay… maybe the hall,” she murmured.

  The vast ruin swallowed her again—silent, cold, empty. Her new robe fluttered as she walked, but no elegance could soften the hunger twisting inside her.

  She searched the edges of the hall: stone shelves, overturned benches, remnants of ceremonial objects.

  Nothing.

  No roots.

  No moss.

  No glowing fantasy fruit.

  “Of course not,” she muttered. “Of course the ancient ruin-dungeon-thing has fashion but no snacks.”

  Her stomach growled loudly, echoing through the pillars.

  “Shhh! I know, I know—just let me think—”

  A sound cut her off.

  A soft scrape.

  Not stone.

  Not clothing.

  Not her own steps.

  Something else.

  Her Spiritual Energy Sense pulsed—sharp, instinctive. Her body moved before her mind caught up, diving sideways, robe flaring as she rolled across the cold floor.

  A massive shadow slammed into the space she had just stood in.

  Stone cracked.

  Her heart plummeted.

  She looked up—and froze.

  Golden eyes glowed in the dim light.

  A low, guttural growl filled the hall.

  Black fur bristled like spears over a monstrous, muscular frame.

  The Direwolf.

  It had found her.

  Somehow, impossibly, it had tracked her scent through the maze of corridors—or perhaps it had never stopped hunting her in the first place.

  She remained kneeling from her dodge, breath caught in her throat, staring straight into its wild, predatory gaze.

  “…oh no.”

  The wolf bared its fangs, saliva dripping onto the cracked floor.

  Her Spiritual Energy Sense spiked again, screaming danger.

  System prompt: Race: Monster | Type: Direwolf | Level: 30

  And she understood—

  This time, the cavern wasn’t merely dark or lonely.

  This time, the monster wasn’t cautious or confused.

  It was here to finish the job.