Seizing the Opportunity, Everyone Faints in Anger

Su Muwan let out a grief-stricken cry before collapsing onto the soft couch, covering her face with her hands as if she had suffered an unbearable blow.

She wailed, "I clearly didn’t do anything! How did I suddenly become the world-destroying Frost Demon? The world’s correction force is utterly unreasonable!"

Qin Luo couldn’t help but chuckle at her devastated expression. "Young Mistress, is this what you call sorrow?"

Su Muwan peeked at him through her fingers and huffed, "Of course! My flawless reputation has been tainted with such an outrageous title—how could I not be upset?"

Qin Luo shrugged and sat beside her, giving her shoulder a light pat. "What’s done is done. We’re only here to cultivate, anyway. Once we break through to the peak of the True Spirit Realm, we’ll leave this world behind."

"As for what happens to this world… well, you already know the answer, don’t you?"

Su Muwan fell silent for a few seconds before suddenly sitting upright and glaring at Qin Luo. "No! I refuse to let this slide! Qin Luo, you have to promise me something!"

Qin Luo raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Su Muwan narrowed her eyes, a sly smile curling on her lips. "Don’t ask. Just promise me—after we leave this dreamscape, you’ll do as I say!"

Qin Luo sighed and shook his head helplessly. "Fine, fine. I promise. But Young Mistress, don’t make me do anything too strange."

Su Muwan snorted and lifted her chin triumphantly. "Relax, I won’t ask you to jump into a fire pit."

The smug look on her face gave Qin Luo an odd premonition.

…She wouldn’t be planning something bizarre again, would she?

Shaking off the thought, he stood and dusted off his robes. "Alright, since you’re awake now, focus on your cultivation. I’m heading out."

Su Muwan blinked. "Out? For what?"

Qin Luo smirked. "To seize opportunities, of course."

"Aren’t you aiming for the peak of the True Spirit Realm? The sect’s resources alone won’t be enough. I need to find some… supplementary gains."

"Oh."

"Don’t just ‘oh’ me. When I return, I’d better not catch you reading ancient romance novels from the Profound Heaven Realm."

"Hmph! As if I’d do that! Do you take me for that kind of person?"

"I certainly hope not."

"You—!"

......

......

Currently, no one in this world had reached the Supreme Realm—the highest cultivation level remained the True Spirit Realm.

Qin Luo guessed this was because the "plot" hadn’t progressed far enough. The world’s correction force was peculiar like that.

Sometimes, he mused how amusing the Heavenly Dao’s script was. It seemed to dictate exactly when and where things would appear, even rigidly capping the highest attainable realm until the "right time" arrived.

For the next while, Qin Luo was either seizing opportunities or on his way to seize them.

North Pole Secret Realm.

Deep within the secret realm, twelve crystalline ice pillars encircled an ancient coffin. A bone-chilling cold surged from it, engulfing the entire area in an unrelenting frost.

Elders from the three great holy lands had formed a defensive array, struggling to withstand the violent energy. Their faces were pale, sweat freezing into beads of ice on their foreheads—they were at their limit.

One elder shouted hoarsely, "Hold on! The Ancient Frost Phoenix is about to awaken! With it, our North Pole Ice Plains will dominate the world!"

"Exactly! Not even the Primordial Holy Land will be our match!"

Yet, at this critical moment—

A figure clad in dark robes stepped through the void as if tearing through the fabric of space itself.

The raging blizzard stilled. Even the air seemed to freeze solid.

"Primordial Holy Son?!"

The North Pole Sect Master’s pupils constricted in disbelief. "This is our forbidden ground! How dare you trespass?!"

No—why did you have to come now, of all times?!

Qin Luo offered no reply. He simply raised a hand, a wisp of inky darkness coiling at his fingertips.

In an instant, the shadow split into countless threads, surging from the glacial crevices and corroding the entire array.

With a deafening explosion, the formation shattered. The three elders coughed blood as they were sent flying.

The coffin lid burst apart, unleashing a torrent of frigid energy.

A phoenix, its body shimmering like ice and its eyes gleaming like stars, soared into the sky, its wings whipping up a cataclysmic snowstorm.

Yet, before it could fully awaken—

A hand wreathed in black mist seized it by the throat.

"The Ancient Frost Phoenix… is mine."

Qin Luo’s voice was icy and detached. Dark runes flared across his palm, and with a piercing shriek, the phoenix’s colossal form disintegrated, transforming into a streak of light that vanished into his sleeve.

The elders stood dumbfounded. Before they could react, Qin Luo had already disappeared—only fading petals of shadow drifting in the air remained.

"The North Pole Ice Plains… are finished."

The Sect Master’s eyes rolled back as he fainted.

"Sect Master, Sect Master!"

"Sect Master!"

...

...

Eastern Domain Sword Mound.

An ancient bronze sword hovered at the center of the Sword Pool, encased within seventy-two layers of sword qi barriers like an impenetrable prison, forcing countless cultivators who came seeking its power to retreat in defeat.

This place was the burial ground of a hundred thousand broken blades, each imbued with formidable sword intent—yet none had ever truly mastered them.

The holy sons and holy daughters of the great sects had all gathered, but none dared step forward.

All except one.

With sharp brows and star-like eyes, his entire body surged with sword qi.

A keen-eyed observer recognized him and gasped, "It’s Jian Wuchen, the one who possesses the Pure White Sword Body!"

"Hiss! It seems this opportunity is destined to be his!"

The crowd murmured in awe.

In this world, there were always those chosen by fate, destined to claim the opportunities meant for them.

Jian Wuchen took a deep breath and gazed at the Sword Testing Platform before him. Slowly, he began his ascent.

He had manifested sword intent at the age of three. By seven, he had defeated the Sect Master of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect with nothing but a wooden blade.

From birth, he had lived for the sword.

The Sword Guardian Spirit observed him with satisfaction. "Hmm... the fated one. You’ve finally arrived."

Jian Wuchen nodded and was about to step forward when—

BOOM!

A familiar figure clad in dark robes descended from the sky.

Then—

HUM!

An overwhelming pressure crushed down on the crowd. BANG! BANG! BANG!

Every challenger was forced to their knees, their pupils trembling in shock.

Jian Wuchen, in particular, stared in disbelief at the sudden arrival. "Saint Qin Luo?!"

"Why is it him again?!"

The crowd was stunned.

Seriously?!

Why are you everywhere?!

Lately, Saint Qin Luo had gone mad—wherever there was an opportunity, he appeared.

Not only did he take the meat, but he didn’t even leave them the broth.

Qin Luo swept his gaze over the crowd and spoke calmly, "Fellow cultivators, this opportunity..."

"...is mine."

With those words, he soared toward the Sword Testing Platform.

Jian Wuchen, still pinned under the oppressive force, clenched his fists and roared, "Saint Qin Luo! You shameless thief! This opportunity chose me! Even you can’t take it away!"

Qin Luo smirked. "Oh? That’s interesting."

"Then I’ll take it anyway."

With a single step, he landed on the platform.

The next moment—

A low hum reverberated through the air as the Sword Guardian Spirit, dormant for millennia, awakened as if sensing a dire threat.

The surrounding sword qi barriers trembled violently, as though trying to block his advance.

"He’s causing all the swords to resonate?!"

Someone in the crowd gasped, their face pale with shock.

Qin Luo ignored the stares. Instead, he raised a finger and sliced through the air. A massive, three-meter-long black scythe materialized from the shadows, radiating a soul-shaking aura.

With a single swing—

The hundred thousand broken blades within the Sword Mound trembled in unison, transforming into a torrent that surged into the scythe in his grasp.

The Sword Guardian Spirit sensed the danger and struggled to break free, only for inky-black chains to coil around its blade, binding it tightly.

Its resistance weakened... until it fell completely silent.

"A fine sword."

Qin Luo flicked his finger, shattering the final barrier. His voice was indifferent.

"And now, it’s mine."

As the words left his lips, the ancient sword let out a final, unwilling cry before dissolving into motes of starlight—absorbed into his body.

The crowd could only stare at the now-empty Sword Pool, their hearts filled with nothing but awe and terror.

Jian Wuchen remained kneeling, dumbfounded.

Wait...

One sword, one opportunity.

But you...

Took them all?!

Then what was the point of all my trials?!

What was the point?!

...

...

Atop the Crimson Cloud Peak.

A blazing sunset painted the sea of clouds in fiery hues as the Medicine King Cauldron hovered midair, wreathed in nine-colored flames. The intoxicating scent of elixirs filled the air.

The disciples of the Medicine God Valley stood in dense clusters, swallowing hard.

"The Nine Revolutions Golden Pill... Our Medicine King Valley has spent a thousand years refining it, generation after generation..."

"If we can produce even ten—no, five—pills today, our sect will rise to greatness!"

"Ah... by the way... that man doesn’t know about our alchemy session today, right?"

That man?

The crowd tensed, their eyes darting nervously.

Rumors said Saint Qin Luo had gone mad this past month—snatching up every opportunity, big or small, like a bandit.

A guard elder scoffed, his voice laced with disdain. "Preposterous! How have you all been cowed by a mere Qin Luo? Where is your dignity?"

"If he dares show his face, this old man will make him taste the bitterness of the Poison Boiling Powder!"

The moment the words left his mouth—

HUM!

The familiar hum of a sword rang out as shadowy lotuses bloomed beneath the cauldron.

And there, standing atop the petals, was the dark-robed figure that made every face in the crowd freeze.

Tap. Tap.

Qin Luo strode forward, each step like a hammer against their nerves.

The nine-colored flames parted on their own, forming a golden path beneath his feet.

Seriously?!

Everyone’s jaws dropped.

You just smelled it and came running, didn’t you?!

"Saint Qin Luo!"

The elder of the Medicine God Valley roared in fury, his eyes burning with rage: "Have you come here to steal our Golden Cores?? If so, this old man—"

Smack!!

Before he could finish his words.

A black palm instantly lashed out.

The elder was sent spinning on the spot before crashing to the ground.

His pupils trembled violently, his face contorted in shock.

He… actually struck without hesitation??

"Enough nonsense."

"Did you think I came here to play?"

Qin Luo curled his lips disdainfully, his fingertips glowing with an eerie light. The radiance fell upon the Medicine King Cauldron, and the inscriptions on its surface darkened inch by inch. The once-blazing pill flames began to extinguish.

Then.

Under the stunned gazes of the disciples.

Boom!!

The Medicine King Cauldron exploded violently. Thirty-six Nine Revolutions Golden Cores were swiftly sealed into a jade vial before vanishing into his sleeve.

With a flicker of movement, Qin Luo transformed into a streak of light, soaring into the sky.

Only then did the Medicine God Valley disciples regain mobility from the oppressive aura.

When they saw that even their ancestral cauldron was gone—

A chorus of wails erupted.

"NO!!!"

"Tai Chu Holy Land!! We swear vengeance upon you!!"

Meanwhile, Qin Luo.

He gave the jade vial in his hand a casual shake.

Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

These ancient folks really made things easy—grabbing treasures was practically like picking them off the ground.

In the modern era, such opportunities were nowhere to be found.

Still, these gains should suffice.

Enough for the young mistress to break through.