The Heavenly Dao competition concluded successfully.
Although the final scene was particularly eerie, with no survivors in the entire aerospace base, and the old woman and the chariot claiming the title of "Chosen One" (MVP)...
But Rogue’s Jasmine’s supplies were still overwhelmingly ahead, still in first place.
Because Last Dusk was ejected for cheating, the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao bumped every team up one rank, leaving no contestant with any complaints.
Many cultivators who watched the competition also made a killing.
Originally, placing bets only yielded scraps.
After all, almost no one would bet on any team other than Rogue’s Jasmine.
Yet someone suddenly placed a massive bet on Last Dusk at the last minute, which instead let the cultivators rake in a huge profit.
For two weeks after the competition ended, cultivators were curious about who this kind-hearted person was, improving ordinary cultivators’ standard of living...
"Everyone made money—who actually lost out?"
Lu Ze looked at the betting hall’s backend and couldn’t help but laugh.
Once the betting results came out, he could see the names of the bettors.
Finding out it was Blood Crow and Rakshasa, Lu Ze was thoroughly amused.
The lousy idea was obviously Rakshasa’s.
Word had it that Rakshasa nearly got beaten to death by Blood Crow last time. Who knew if anyone would save him again this time...
[Congratulations to the host for successfully slaying orthodox cultivators, restoring the demonic path’s reputation, and seizing the Heavenly Dao’s secret treasure within the secret realm!]
[Reward obtained: Taixu Soul Pill x1]
[Taixu Soul Pill: An ancient cultivator’s hand-rolled pill version of a "Taixu Soul Crystal," temporarily granting some of the Taixu Soul Crystal’s effects. After consumption, divine sense can be explosively strengthened for a short time.]
"Taixu Soul Crystal? Another thing I’ve never heard of..."
Lu Ze looked at the pill, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation.
If you said it was useless, at least it was related to divine sense.
If you said it was useful...
A temporary pill, no help for crafting illusions.
Burst for a while, then crash—he couldn’t sustain such a large illusion afterward anyway.
He could only stash it in his pocket for now.
"I’ll have to track down that Heavenly Dao kid one day to see if he has a Taixu Soul Crystal..."
Lu Ze curled his lip and entered the illusion.
Knowing the system’s pattern, once the mission reward was issued, it meant the Heavenly Dao’s reward was issued too.
Sure enough, as soon as he entered the server illusion, a system prompt smacked him in the face.
[Competition reward has been delivered. Please claim it within the illusion!]
Remembering his tragic experience from the last time he opened a reward, Lu Ze quickly hurried to the server world where the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao resided.
"Huh?"
The remnant spirit glanced at him.
"I’m so nervous!"
Lu Ze rubbed his hands together, his whole body trembling.
The remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao: "???"
"What if it’s not the Dao Transformation Art?"
"..."
"Please, let it be the Dao Transformation Art! Let it be!!"
Lu Ze prayed and bowed, putting on a full show, then opened the champion reward chest with extreme tension.
[Congratulations! You have obtained: Dao Transformation Art!]
"Haha! Great!! It really is the Dao Transformation Art!!!"
Lu Ze let out a hollow laugh, stashing Dao Transformation Art in his inventory, while silently cursing the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao for being petty.
"By the way, did you find the cheaters?"
"Yes."
The remnant spirit nodded.
"Those three were already dead by the time I arrived."
"Dead?"
Lu Ze was startled.
As expected of the cultivation world—cheating carried such huge risks. This was way more serious than getting your account banned.
"Someone set up a formation, using their divine sense as an anchor to manipulate things subtly in the illusion..."
The remnant spirit snorted coldly and explained.
"But the formation’s erosion was severe. Those three were already flickering candles in the wind within the illusion."
"I see..."
Lu Ze nodded.
Setting up a formation from the outside world, using the physical body as a fulcrum to interfere with the illusion—indeed, that was the only way to cheat.
Whoever could do that had to be someone with unfathomably deep cultivation.
Blood Crow and Rakshasa had placed their bets early, clearly knowing Last Dusk had a hidden card.
So the identity of the formation’s arranger was obvious—
The Illusion Alliance leader.
"Did you find the formation master?" Lu Ze swiftly asked.
"Yes, right beside those three."
The remnant spirit nodded.
"I killed him with one slap."
"Killed... with one slap?"
Lu Ze was shocked at first, then quickly accepted it.
So far, he hadn’t seen anyone who could survive a serious palm strike from the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao.
The "one-slap superman" reputation truly lived up to its name.
"Though... the feel of that slap was a bit strange."
The remnant spirit recalled the moment.
"Seemed to be some kind of spiritual body."
"Spiritual body?"
Lu Ze rubbed his chin in thought.
"Did you get a look at his face?"
"Hah, when has this Heavenly Dao ever cared about such things? If he dares to invade again, another slap will do."
The remnant spirit said haughtily.
Lu Ze curled his lip and didn’t press further.
Fair enough.
In all the world, when had the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao ever looked anyone in the eye?
Other than Lu Ze, the only one who had left some impression on it was that cultivator with "thick brows, big eyes, and a slightly unlucky look."
"Oh, right."
Lu Ze suddenly remembered something, grinning as he looked at the remnant spirit.
"What is it?"
"Next time, could you put a Taixu Soul Crystal in the prize pool?"
"...Scram."
...
...
Two weeks later.
"What kind of crappy technique is this? Why is it so hard to cultivate!?"
Lu Ze tossed the Dao Transformation Art to the ground, his face full of frustration.
Ever since he had gained a celestial body from the system, he could learn any skill after just one try, his talent unmatched in the world.
But this Dao Transformation Art alone took him a full two weeks just to get started in the gate!
Finally mastering it today, Lu Ze promptly poured the enlightenment insights he’d just obtained into it.
Result: after ten years—no movement at all.
After fifty years—barely some familiarity, not even reaching minor completion.
That nearly drove Lu Ze crazy.
He even suspected he had gotten a fake manual!
"No, I have to find him!"
Lu Ze gritted his teeth and sank his divine sense into the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao’s server world.
"Oh? You’ve learned it?"
The remnant spirit immediately sensed the difference in Lu Ze’s divine essence level, slightly surprised.
Even knowing Lu Ze was a peerless genius, it had thought he’d need at least three months just to grasp the obscure Dao Transformation Art.
Two weeks, and he was not only into the gate but even somewhat familiar...
In all the ages it had witnessed, this counted as a one-of-a-kind genius.
"This useless skill—why is it so hard to practice?"
Lu Ze asked in frustration.
"Well, it has a corresponding mental technique. Cultivating it alone will indeed be difficult."
The remnant spirit nodded.
"???"
Lu Ze was speechless.
Why didn’t you say so before?
"The mental technique—let me see it!"
"I don’t have it."
"???"
"I’m not a junk collector. Why would I keep all that?"
"You little..."
Lu Ze’s teeth itched with anger.
No wonder it was so hard!
So he had been brute-force learning it without the mental technique!
But he had already invested 50 years of enlightenment insights into it. If he stopped now, he’d lose everything.
And the boost that the Dao Transformation Art gave to narrative-type games was far from insignificant!
After thinking for a moment, Lu Ze withdrew from the illusion and decided to go all in.
A hundred years!
Minor Achievement!
Two hundred years!
Major Achievement!
Three hundred years!
Great Perfection!
Watching his hard-earned over three hundred years of Dao comprehension insights being squandered away, Lu Ze felt a pang of pain.
He felt he had to find a way to make up for it somehow.
Now that the "Dao Transformation Art" had reached Great Perfection, his control over the world of narrative-based illusions had reached a new level.
"I must torment those righteous cultivators thoroughly..."
[The content about the Delta Arc is finally finished. Let me talk a bit about this book.]
First, let me paint a picture for you: this book is planned to be at least 1.2 million words long.
Titles like "Red Dead Revolver," "Cyberpunk 2077," and "Black Myth" already have preliminary localization plans.
But exactly how many will be written depends on whether the book can make a comeback by the 1-million-word mark.
This book once had 300,000 readers online and 20,000 stable followers—it wasn’t always as bad as it is now.
Every book gets two chances to change its title, and each change could turn its fate around.
This book was originally called "To Corrupt the Path of Righteousness, I Had to Make Games."
It fit the content well, but it didn’t attract new readers.
To achieve better results, I used the first title-change opportunity when the book hit 500,000 words.
Back then, five title options were given, such as "I, a Demon Cult Planner, Torment Billions of Cultivators" or "After Making Games, My Demon Cult Identity Couldn’t Be Hidden Anymore..."
In the end, "Dying Illusions Boosts Cultivation? I Become an Immortal Through Games!" proved to be the most effective title and became the new one—the one readers see now.
The old title performed reasonably well, so switching to a better one should have improved things, right?
Instead, everything collapsed. Traffic dropped off a cliff.
Now, when I look back at the new title, it seems to match the novel perfectly: players die in illusions, Lu Ze gains cultivation, and he cultivates immortality by making games—it all fits.
But in the eyes of outsiders, that’s not the case at all!
To 90% of passersby, it looks like a cultivation novel with a simulator-style cheat, where dying still earns rewards.
In other words, the recommended reader base was completely off.
Many people say this book ended up in its current state because of the author’s own doing—because the author took breaks, because the writing was bad...
That’s not really true.
Last September, when I was writing the book’s most exciting arc, "This Demon Cultivator Isn’t So Cold," traffic had already dried up. (At the time, I realized nothing I did could change things, so I slacked off and wrote carelessly.)
Last month, I worked nonstop for the entire month, and the traffic was even worse than during the earlier slacking-off months...
Once the algorithm casts this book into the cold, no amount of good writing or effort can help.
For the past ten days, new traffic has been no more than a thousand a day. I might as well go back and update my first old book...
Countless times, I’ve thought about giving up, but I can’t bear to let go of this book’s story and characters.
One million words, and there’s still one more chance to change the title and turn things around. So I have to grit my teeth and keep writing.
I’ll push to a million words and see if this book can bounce back.
In the last ten days, this book has basically been cut off from recommendations. Only a few hundred new readers are coming in each day. It’s been really tough.
If you have any free gifts, please send some to this book.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
