Chương 21: 1.21 Registration

[Panel] [Name: Ji Ning Spiritual Root: Mid-grade Spiritual Root Attributes: Five Elemental Attributes Talent: Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity Realm: 3rd Stage of Qi Condensation (390/400) Cultivation Method: Pure Qi Sutra (2nd floor: 24/400) Martial Arts: Bone Forging Fist (Minor Accomplishment: 21/200), Shadow Steps (Minor Accomplishment: 26/100) Spells: Small Cloud Rain Technique(Minor Accomplishment: 169/200), Soil Refining Technique(Small Accomplishment: 23/200), Scorching Purge(Minor Accomplishment: 3/200), Golden Finger(Starting: 13/100)] Ning glanced at the panel in disappointment, much like Ash Ketchum rushing toward a rustling bush expecting a wild Pokémon, only to find a girl instead.

Alas, he'd missed the finish line by a sliver. Because of the Drunken Aphid disaster, he hadn't earned much during the harvest season. The missions he could take weren't particularly rewarding either. Being bound to the sect's farmlands meant he could only accept low-level assignments, mostly planting and cleaning work. So even after borrowing an extra thirty spirit stones from Old Zhou, he still failed to reach the bottleneck of the third stage, let alone the fourth stage.

If he were honest, Ning was quite bummed out. Naturally so. All that effort, only to get tripped up by luck.

"I guess being a spiritual farmer really does entail unexpected disasters," Ning thought. He understood it, but understanding didn't mean accepting it. And since today was the last day to register one's cultivation for the newbie assessment, his time had run out. With a sigh, Ning brushed the dust off his robes and made his way toward the General Affairs Hall. It was already evening, so while there was still a line for registration, it was much shorter now.

Glancing around, Ning noticed most of the new disciples were at the second stage of Qi Condensation, a few barely at the third. It seemed that those who'd reached the fourth stage had already registered. It made sense; the fourth stage was all that was needed to obtain a Cleansing Pill. A day or two of extra cultivation wouldn't make much difference for them, so they probably won't wait till the last minute. With another quiet sigh, Ning joined the end of the line. It was already dark by the time his turn came.

The wait had been peaceful, unsurprising, since this was the sect's administrative hub. No one dared cause trouble here. The guards at the entrance weren't mere decorations. Before long, a servant guided Ning inside to the elder's quarters.

"Ji Ning," the elder greeted, looking up from a pile of documents.

"You were assigned to spiritual farming, yes? Your performance has been satisfactory." He nodded approvingly, then gestured for Ning to sit.

"Moreover, it seems you have reached the third stage of Qi Condensation."

"Yes. It's all thanks to the teachings of the sect," Ning replied respectfully, bowing slightly. The way to get along with senior management could be summed up in one word: loyalty. In this case, loyalty to the sect. Gratitude to the sect. As expected, the elder smiled faintly.

"Since you managed to reach the third stage within a year, you are entitled to a reward. You may choose one technique from the Scripture Pavilion. Take this identification token, present it there, and you'll be granted access." He flicked a small bronze token toward Ning, who caught it with both hands.

"Thank you, Elder."

"Also, as a young man, you should take better care of your health. Don't overexert yourself." The elder pointed at Ning's dark circles, his tone kind. Sleeping barely three hours a night had clearly taken its toll; the evidence hung under his eyes. Heavy dark circles and traces of fatigue were quite visible. Ning only bowed and retreated. The elder's words held truth, but if he didn't push himself to the limit, he'd feel sorry for himself for slacking off.

Just as he stepped out, someone rushed past him, nearly colliding before sidestepping with practiced reflexes.

"Sorry!" the person called out before disappearing inside. Ning blinked. That voice, Xiao Fan. Judging by his unsteady qi, he'd just broken through to the fourth stage. His energy was still turbulent, unrefined. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Ning couldn't help but sigh with a wry smile.

"As expected of the protagonist. Showing up at the last second." Back at his quarters, Ning sat for a moment before resuming his cultivation. Now that his one-year mission exemption had ended, he needed to reach mid-stage Qi Condensation and earn his outer sect status. There was no time to waste. His hands formed a seal, and his breathing steadied. Spiritual energy began to circulate through his meridians. With his eyes closed, his breath followed a steady rhythm, though heavier than usual.

Ning didn't pay it much mind, assuming it was due to the lack of spiritual incense. He circulated his qi according to the Pure Qi Sutra. One circulation, two circulations, slowly refining his essence. Yet as his consciousness sank deeper, his thoughts began to stir, like bubbles rising from a dark pond. When will days like this end? Was all that effort in vain? Maybe I should just relax and stop being so hard on myself.

Each thought slithered into the next, soft at first, then louder, sharper, overlapping until they felt like voices whispering directly into his mind. The gentle hum of qi warped into jagged, erratic pulses. Ning's breath caught. His vision blurred. Transmigrator… Chosen one… Hah. Chosen for what, exactly? Be the protagonist… Kill, and steal the halo… Why even bother? All of this… meaningless… NO! What are these suicidal thoughts?! Ning quickly realized something was wrong.

He was self-aware; his mind wandered sometimes, yes, but never like this. He was obsessed. Instantly, Ning understood the cause. The lecturing elder had spoken about several precautions and various problems one encountered during cultivation. Inner demons. Human beings are creatures prone to nihilism and pessimism. In a normal world, such thoughts, though severe, are rarely fatal. Unfortunately, this was the world of cultivation, one steeped in spirituality. Such thoughts could lead to an attack of inner demons.

The symptoms were clear. He had merely been cultivating, and suddenly his thoughts had turned dark, his qi spiraling beyond control. \ All of this was so abrupt that it caught Ning by surprise. F ck! Panel! 𝕀𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝? 𝔸𝕞 𝕀 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘? 𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖'𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖. 𝕎𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕦𝕡. ℕ𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝. [Name: Ji Ning] [Realm: Qi Condensation – 3rd Stage (390/400)] That mechanical glow stabbed through the chaos.

Ning seized onto it desperately. The elder had said that inner demons attacked through negative thoughts, causing qi deviation. The only way to overcome them was to persist: to focus on maintaining a clear mind amidst the chaos, and to calm the qi within. The elder had mentioned these things only in passing. His words echoed in Ning's mind:"Inner demons prey on those whose hearts are clouded, people drowning in obsession, doubt, or fear. It usually happens to those who've gone through… intense things."

Juniors like them, well-protected within the sect, rarely encountered such danger. So, the elder had not spoken much about it. It was only because Ning regularly read his notes that he had become familiar with such things. Unfortunately, Ning was a transmigrator, a stranger in another's skin, his soul stitched together with another's memories. His very existence was a mystery. Being dropped into another world, merging souls, and inheriting foreign experiences, it was far removed from the life of an ordinary Joe.

Even during mundane days, his thoughts sometimes drifted back to the life he had abruptly left behind. And being in the same sect as Xiao Fan, a protagonist straight out of a third-rate xianxia novel, didn't help. Ning couldn't stop questioning his own reality. With such confusion, doubt was natural. Fear of all of this just being a dream. In simpler terms, it was an existential crisis, one that Ning usually managed to bury beneath his relentless drive to keep himself busy. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘!

ℕ𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕤. ℕ𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕤𝕥. 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝. Panel… focus on the panel! Ning's ears buzzed with tens, hundreds, of overlapping voices. His qi threatened to spiral out of control. His thoughts trembled and fought back, but the whispers were like claws scraping the inside of his skull. He clung to the glowing words on the panel, his anchor, his lifeline. After what felt like an eternity, the cacophony began to fade.

The shadows receded like a tide drawn back into the abyss. He gasped as his vision snapped into focus. Puff! A mouthful of bright red blood splattered onto the floor. He had survived. For the next few minutes, Ning took deep breaths, trying to calm down his nerves.

"Damn! That was too f*cking dangerous." Though Ning rarely cursed, this time he couldn't help it. The situation had taken a heavy toll on him. Unlike the "inner demons" gym bros faced after breakups, Ning's were lethal, both physically and mentally.

"Fortunately, I managed to snap out of it… just barely." With the panel as his anchor, he had steadied himself amidst the chaos. Still, the fear lingered; those whispers had felt disturbingly real. As his thoughts settled, Ning realized the true danger of inner demons: not their suddenness, but their subtlety. Ning, while a workaholic, knew the importance of balancing rest and practice. But for the past month, he'd been working himself to the bone.

This in itself was not concerning, but today, despite the extreme exhaustion, he still pushed through to cultivate even when his condition was not good. A coincidence? He thinks not. Inner demons rarely attacked without warning. A strong mind and body could usually hold them at bay. So their modus operandi was simple. They worked slowly, twisting emotions, deepening cracks, until finally, they struck.

Most importantly, the fact that it could influence his emotions, especially by preying on his tendency to overwork, made such things all the more dangerous. As he reflected, Ning finally understood why the elder's expression had been so grave when speaking of inner demons. Fortunately, inner demons scaled with cultivation. Ning was only at the early stage of Qi Condensation, so his demon wasn't strong. With the panel as his anchor, he had managed to overcome this hurdle.

Alas, an inner demon attack at the Qi Condensation stage was a privilege usually reserved for protagonists, sentimental fools, desperate men… and now transmigrators. Ning sighed.

"Alas, how do those isekai protagonists adapt to another world so smoothly without any problems?" He stood up, washed his face, and stepped outside. The night was deep and silent. A cool breeze brushed past, clearing his mind.

"It's just a few bumps on the road to immortality," he murmured.

"Mysteries, so what? As long as I keep moving forward, everything will sort itself out."

"Strive, strive, and never give up." As he was mentally psyching himself up. A sudden gust hit him square in the face. Ning shivered violently; the cold of this world far surpassed that of his previous life.

"…Damn," he muttered through chattering teeth, "how do protagonists make this look so cool?"... Thanks for reading~