Darkness.
It felt like he was falling—weightless, voiceless, formless.
Then, suddenly—pain.
His lungs screamed. His heart pounded in his chest like it had just restarted after a long, cold slumber. Cold sweat soaked his skin, and the sharp scent of blood flooded his nostrils.
"Gah—!" Ethan jolted upright, gasping like a man dragged from the depths of drowning. His trembling fingers gripped the rough stone floor beneath him. He was lying in what seemed like a training chamber—cracked tiles beneath him, dusty scrolls scattered around, and a deathly silence that clung to the air like a burial shroud.
Where… am I?
The last thing he remembered was walking home—normal day, empty street—when a blinding flash of light engulfed him.
Then nothing.
Now this.
Something felt off.
Something was wrong with his body.
It was weaker. Frail. His limbs felt thin, his chest ached, and his muscles were sore like they had been abused for years.
He touched his face—it was soft. Young.
His eyes scanned the dim chamber. A single flickering crystal embedded in the wall provided faint illumination. Martial weapons hung untouched on nearby racks. Dust clung to every surface like ivy, but the training dummy ahead was drenched in fresh blood.
And then the memories hit.
But they weren't his.
They belonged to another Ethan Morningstar,the owner of this body.
Born into the prestigious Morningstar family—one of the ancient martial clans that had ruled for generations.
A family of legends.
But this Ethan was different. He had awakened a Red Talent—the lowest tier possible.
A verdict of mediocrity. A future doomed from the start.
Red Talent meant no hope of breaking through the from Martial Student stage. A life of mockery. Derision. Pity.
But he didn't give up.
He trained harder than anyone else.
Running laps until his legs collapsed. Striking the dummy until his knuckles shattered. Practicing techniques without True Qi until his muscles tore and bones cracked.
He believed hard work could overcome fate.
He believed… until it killed him.
Exhausted. Alone. In this very chamber.
Ethan rose shakily to his feet as the final fragments of memory faded. His heart still raced from the shock. He looked down at his hands—his new hands—and clenched them.
So this is transmigration… The old Ethan gave everything. And this was how it ended.
A heavy silence filled the room.
"I guess… it's my turn now."
And at that moment, a soft chime echoed in his mind.
> Ding—
[System awakening… complete.]
[Name: Ethan Morningstar]
[Age: 15]
[Cultivation: Mortal]
[Body Cultivation: Mortal]
Passive Function Activated:
For every cultivation breakthrough, physique will advance three levels unconditionally.
Ethan blinked.
"What…?"
There was no glowing interface. No mechanical voice. Just a calm, emotionless whisper inside his soul.
It simply existed.
It was a golden finger but not like other protagonists from the novel he read before.
No guidance. No tutorials. No mission logs.
Just one rule.
For every breakthrough in martial cultivation, his body cultivation would increase by three levels.
That was it.
So simple… yet so terrifying.
In this world, where body strength determined speed, resilience, and raw power—this ability was monstrous.
"This… is insane…"
A grin slowly stretched across his face—half bitter, half triumphant.
"All that suffering… and this is how the real story begins."
---
The door to the training hall slammed open.
A youth in pale robes bearing the Morningstar crest entered, frowning.
"Well, well. Still not dead, trash?" he sneered. Arms crossed. Arrogant tone. He looked every inch the stereotypical tormentor.
His name was Calder. High Martial Student realm. Inner disciple. One of Ethan's most persistent bullies.
Ethan met his gaze calmly.
He remembered Calder from the body's memories. A proud peacock who preyed on weakness.
But this time, Ethan didn't feel fear. Or anger.
Only cold indifference.
"No," Ethan said flatly. "Not dead. Just getting started."
Calder's sneer wavered. "The hell are you smiling for, loser?"
Ethan walked past him without another word.
Let them mock him. Let them laugh.
Outside, the futuristic skyline of Blackstone City loomed in the distance.
Ethan stepped onto a balcony, eyes widening.
Hovercars zipped through sky highways. Towering skyscrapers scraped the clouds, their surfaces embedded with glowing runes and holographic signs. Neon lights danced across high-rise platforms, while drones patrolled the city's upper layers.
It was like Earth—but from centuries into the future.
No, it wasn't Earth. That much was clear.
He didn't know if this was a different world, a parallel dimension, or another planet in the same universe.
Then he went inside to his courtyard.
Ethan sat cross-legged in the bed.
The silence around him was almost sacred.
His breath had calmed, and the chaotic whirlwind of memories—the pain, the trauma, the humiliation—had slowly begun to settle in his mind like sediment in still water.
Now, he understood.
This wasn't Earth.
Not exactly.
Cosmic energy had poured into the planet like divine nectar from the heavens, altering reality itself.
Martial ruins long hidden beneath the surface of the earth emerged. Artifacts containing advanced technological schematics and lost martial techniques were discovered. And humanity—once entirely reliant on science—took a new direction.
The age of cultivation began.
At first, only ancient martial families could tap into it. Families like the Morningstars, who had existed long before the fall, operating in shadows, manipulating global events. Back then, even a Martial Grandmaster was a god among men. Missiles and tanks couldn't touch them.
But now?
Now there were beings far beyond Grandmasters.
Martial Lords, Kings, even Monarchs—each realm exponentially stronger than the last. Monarchs were said to be capable of withstanding nuclear bombardments. And the Morningstar Family's patriarch was a Martial King—one of the world's most powerful beings.
Yet even in such a legendary bloodline… the previous Ethan had awakened the weakest possible martial talent.
Red Talent.
In this new world, martial talent defined one's future.
It determined how fast one could absorb mana, how easily one could cultivate, and how far one could climb in the hierarchy of power.
Red Talent: Fated to remain a Martial Student forever.
Orange Talent: Slightly better. One could reach Martial Master, with effort.
Yellow, Green, Blue, Cyan: Increasingly powerful talents with progressively faster absorption and higher limits.
Purple Talent: A myth. A talent so rare that most considered it a fairy tale. Ethan had never even heard of anyone with it.
He clenched his fists. The system had awakened—but it had a catch.
[System Passive Function: For every cultivation breakthrough, physique breaks through three times unconditionally.]
It sounded powerful.
Too powerful.
But there was a cruel twist.
He needed to break through in cultivation to trigger it.
And with a Red Talent… he might as well wait a decade to reach Martial Student Level 1.
Even now, trying to circulate mana felt like breathing through a straw underwater. Sluggish. Suffocating.
"Useless talent…" Ethan muttered, gritting his teeth.
That was when it happened.
A soft, calm chime echoed once more in his mind.
> Ding—
[System Notice: Martial Talent can be evolved by consuming the blood essence of a cultivator from the next grade talent.]
Ethan's heart stopped.
His eyes shot open, glowing faintly with disbelief and wild hope.
Martial Talent… can evolve?
There was a iron rule in the world. Talent was fixed. That's why red talent was despised by everyone as they had no future.
He repeated the line in his mind again and again, as if trying to carve it into his soul.
Red can become Orange. Orange can become Yellow, Green, Blue—until the heavens themselves trembled beneath his feet.
Not just a stronger realm.
A higher talent.
Which meant: killing or somehow obtaining the blood essence of someone with better innate potential than him.
This was no longer a game of hard work alone.
He stepped outside into the night air. The compound behind him glowed dimly, and far in the distance, the city of Blackstone shimmered beneath the stars.
Flying cars zipped between silver skyscrapers. Neon signs pulsed across sky-bridges. Technology buzzed. Drones hovered like silent watchers. But amid all that advancement, there was an ancient power woven into everything.