On a sunny day, a boy sprinted toward the bookstore, the wind brushing through his dark hair. He stood around 185 cm (6'1"), averagely handsome, but what made him truly stand out were the numerous scars etched across his well-trained body—each a story, a battle, a survival.
"Hi, my name's Lucifer, and that's me," he said casually, as if introducing himself to the audience of his own life.
The reason for his hurry was simple—today marked the release of the final chapter of his favorite cultivation novel. More importantly, the bookstore had announced a special reward: the first person to arrive would receive the cultivating art of the main character. To outsiders, this might sound like a gimmick. But for someone like Lucifer, it was everything.
For the uninitiated, cultivating is the art of refining the qi of heaven and earth, absorbing it into the body to unlock the dantian—the spiritual energy center—and the twelve major meridians, along with over 600 smaller meridians. At least, that's what the books claim.
You might wonder how I know all this. Well, to be honest, I'm obsessed with cultivation novels. There's something mystical and electrifying about them. I've read them all—from ancient sagas about immortal emperors to modern fusions of martial arts and technology. But I didn't stop at reading.
I trained.
Not the kind of casual fitness most people dabble in. No. I pushed my body to the brink of collapse. I fought against experienced martial artists, trekked through wilderness, and even faced off against wild animals. I forged my body like a weapon. My bones were toughened through impact, my muscles strengthened by resistance beyond what was safe.
Why? Because I was trying to cultivate in real life. Yeah, laugh all you want. But I was serious.
When five years passed without results, I started to suspect that the cultivation arts I had collected online or written myself were flawed. So, I dove deeper. I studied every known fictional method, watched every cultivation-themed series, and analyzed the structure of qi paths, meridian diagrams, and spiritual techniques.
And then, I created my own.
I call it the Devouring Dragon Art—a method that cultivates the soul, body, mind, and qi all at once. It's designed to accelerate progress without damaging the foundation, unlike many techniques that trade short-term gains for long-term instability. It purifies qi, reinforces internal organs, and even includes a forbidden skill: devouring the blood of beasts or humans to inherit their bloodline and abilities.
And even though I couldn't cultivate it, I was damn proud of it.
Finally, I arrived at the bookstore, chest heaving, sweat dripping, heart pounding with excitement. Inside, the familiar chime of the door greeted me.
"Hi, boss!" I called out, grinning.
"Hahaha! Hi, boy. Energetic as always
"So, I guess you came for the special prize?" the boss asked, his voice carrying the gravelly tone of someone who had smoked one too many cigarettes and seen one too many weird things behind that bookstore counter.
Lucifer beamed, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Yeah! I woke up super early just to be the first in line. Did I win?"
The old man chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, boy, you did. You're the first, and only, actually. Not many folks hunt for cultivation scrolls these days."
He shuffled behind the worn wooden counter, pulling open a drawer with a groan that sounded older than he was. From within, he carefully retrieved a weathered scroll wrapped in crimson silk and tied with a thin black cord. It radiated a strange, subtle energy, barely noticeable but undeniably present.
"Here you go, boy," he said, placing it into Lucifer's hands with deliberate care. "Hope to see you again soon."
Lucifer's face lit up like the sun. "Thank you! I'll definitely be back when a new novel—or scroll—comes out. See you, boss!" He waved with enthusiasm and headed toward the exit.
The boss watched him go, shaking his head with a nostalgic smile. "Kids these days… always chasing dragons."
As soon as Lucifer stepped into the sunlight, he held the scroll up like a treasure. His eyes gleamed. "Finally. Another cultivation art to add to my collection."
You might wonder why I was so thrilled when I already possessed the greatest cultivation art in existence. The answer is simple: collecting cultivation manuals is my hobby, my obsession, my passion. Some people collect stamps, others hoard video games—I collect power. Or, well, blueprints of power.
Lucifer untied the scroll and unrolled it with care. The parchment crackled slightly, aged but well-preserved. As his eyes scanned the first lines, he tilted his head in mild surprise.
"Huh. This is actually decent. Not in the same realm as my Devouring Dragon Art, of course, but still better than most run-of-the-mill techniques I've seen online or in novels."
He chuckled, folding it up and tucking it into his backpack.
As he strolled down the sidewalk, humming softly to himself and lost in thought, he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. His mind danced with fantasies of future breakthroughs, realms of power, and maybe—just maybe—transcending this mundane world. The idea of finally being able to use his knowledge, instead of only reading about it, was intoxicating.
Then, a scream pierced the air.
Lucifer's head snapped to the side. A small girl, no older than five, had chased her bright red ball into the road. Her mother screamed after her, desperation etched into her voice. A car—black, fast, and driven by a man more interested in his phone than the road—hurtled toward the child.
Time slowed.
I knew I had two choices. One: keep walking, pretend I hadn't seen anything, and let fate take its course. Two: do something stupid and selfless. Something that would get me killed. I'm not one of those clueless protagonists who throw themselves into danger without a second thought.
But those eyes... her eyes. So bright, so innocent, so unaware of the danger speeding toward her. And then she smiled. Just a tiny, joyful smile as she reached for her ball. That was it. That was all it took.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I was sprinting.
I ran like my life—and hers—depended on it. Because it did. My feet pounded the pavement. My heart thundered. In those last moments, I threw myself forward, wrapped my arms around the girl, and with all my strength, hurled her off the road into the bushes.
A split second later, the car slammed into me.
Everything went black.
Pain.
An inferno of pain that scorched every inch of my body. I didn't scream—couldn't scream. I wasn't sure I even had a body left. My consciousness floated in a sea of agony. It was too much. I slipped away into the void again.
When I finally awoke, the pain was gone. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was that I was breathing—but not like before. My lungs felt lighter, fuller. Every breath carried energy, not just air.
Wait... Didn't I die?
I opened my eyes slowly. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—wooden planks, cracked and old, like something out of a historical drama. I sat up abruptly, expecting to feel broken bones or the dull throb of injury—but I felt... fine. Better than fine. Stronger, even.
Then it hit me—a flood of memories that weren't mine.
I gasped and clutched my head as flashes of another life surged into my mind. A boy, around my age, dirty and thin, wandering the streets, scavenging food from trash, bullied by other beggars. His name had also been Lucifer. What were the odds?
He died from poisoning. Rat meat, spoiled soup—who knows. The point is: I had taken over his body. A world of cultivation. A real one.
"HAHAHAHA!" I laughed, half in disbelief, half in joy. "Finally! My dream has come true! I'm really here. A real cultivation world!"
Excitement coursed through my veins. I stood up and looked around. The shack I was in barely held together. The smell of damp wood and rot lingered, but I didn't care. I had a new life. A second chance. And this time, I had knowledge no one here did.
After calming down and going over the memories again, I realized this guy had nothing—no family, no friends, no enemies. That suited me perfectly. No ties, no debts.
"First things first," I muttered. "I need strength."
I pulled out the Devouring Dragon Art—a cultivation method I had designed myself, perfected over years of obsessive theorycrafting. In my previous world, it was all fiction, of course. But now?
Now I could put it to the test.
I sat cross-legged on the creaky floor, closed my eyes, and began to circulate the first stage of the technique. I visualized the devouring dragon—a creature of endless hunger, a vortex of energy and will. I directed that hunger inward, focusing on the faint traces of spiritual energy I could sense in the air.
At first, nothing happened.
Minutes passed. I began to doubt. Was this art real? Was it even compatible with this world's energy?
Then, something shifted.
A spark. A pull.
A faint thread of energy curled toward me like mist caught in a breeze. It entered my body, slow at first, then faster, like a dam had cracked.
My heart pounded. My veins felt like they were vibrating. A rush of heat flooded my core.
My eyes snapped open.
"I did it," I whispered.
The corners of my mouth curled into a grin.