The Undying Immortal System

Over the following weeks, while I spent my mornings in classes learning how to teach Disciples, most of my time was spent in the soul cultivation library.

The Academy’s technique library contained several small rooms, and its contents were carefully partitioned so that someone who was granted access to Rank 1 martial fire techniques could only view those specific techniques. If one wanted to look at a different Rank, technique type, or element, they would need to pay separately for access to each different room.

In contrast, the soul cultivation library was a large, open building with dozens of bookshelves, tables where students could study, and small private reading rooms. Every soul cultivation technique the school offered and all the related philosophical texts were available freely to anyone taking the right courses.

From what I could tell, four classes other than ours were studying soul cultivation. This led to the library being busy, but there were more than enough books to go around. There were at least a hundred different volumes for each of the four paths Instructor Yuan had introduced us to.

While my classmates and I all studied at the same table, we silently agreed not to comment on the books anyone else read. This was to prevent us from influencing the path that others would choose to walk.

As for myself, while I was in the Nine Rivers Sect, I took the Test of Soul as a Grandmaster and was able to pass with ease. This was clear evidence that my soul was far stronger than it needed to be for the moment, so I could and would take as much time as I needed before making any decision about how to proceed.

Even after copying every available text on soul cultivation into my mental library, I remained in the Academy’s library to show any watchers how seriously I was taking this decision. If I had returned to my room and used my mental library to peruse these books in private, any spies would have certainly misunderstood my actions. Without knowing who may be watching or why they were doing so, I had to be careful with the narrative I crafted for them.

The four paths that the school advocated were all interesting in their own unique way. The more I read, the more I came to understand the underlying principles of these different philosophies and how they would guide a cultivator’s actions.

I felt as if these different paths had some connection to the different tiers of cultivation. The Daoist ideal of separating oneself from the mortal world in the pursuit of cultivation and enlightenment seemed to mesh well with the Warrior Tier. The Legalist notions of everything benefiting those in charge fit with the Ruler Tier. The Traditionalist concepts of ritual and filial piety could easily be connected to the Bloodline Tier. I had no notion of what was above Bloodline, but the name ‘Saint’ had implications that could connect it to the Universalists.

If Instructor Yuan’s comment about powerful forces of the Central Continent following each of the different paths was to be believed, it was unlikely that these philosophies were rigidly tied to specific levels of cultivation. Instead, I felt like the philosophers who developed these different paths were forming them around superficial understandings of what the different levels of cultivation involved.

In truth, such musings were unimportant. They were little more than a distraction I was using to avoid making a decision.

Even though I had read a large number of the treatises on soul cultivation available, I still didn’t know what I should do. I couldn’t just rely on the information the Academy provided me. I needed objective information.

Before I could deal with choosing a path, I needed to settle the issue of what soul cultivation technique I would use. I had the four provided by the Academy, but I was worried that they might contain hidden dangers that would poison my soul. I needed a technique I could trust.

“System, using the Academy’s techniques as a baseline, how powerful of a soul cultivation technique can I purchase for one billion credits? I want one without any hidden risks or dangers to my body, mind, or soul. I want the information I am given to clearly state how the technique will affect me and give clear warnings of any dangers the technique may hold for myself or others.”

Processing… Low-Pr— Processing… An external entity has discounted the price. Peak-Profound Mortal soul cultivation technique Path through the Silent Night. Cost 1 billion credits.

Note: You will repay this debt.

Maybe that message should have made me afraid, but instead, it reassured me. Fear came from the unknown. I had been afraid the Earthly Dao would take a hidden hand in whatever the System gave me. Doing so openly removed this source of fear and made it something I could plan around.

This was a technique chosen by the Earthly Dao. That meant there was a definite purpose behind its selection. However, if Emperor Li was correct, I could also be certain that it contained no hidden dangers because of the specifics of my request.

If I had to choose between a technique provided by the Earthly Dao and one provided by the Academy, I would choose the former every time. The Earthly Dao seemed to have some greater purpose for me while the ultimate purpose of the Academy was to prepare me as a feast for vultures.

“Purchase.”

Purchase confirmed. 8,733,086,524 credits remaining.

I was a little worried when I didn’t feel any knowledge enter my mind. When I had upgraded techniques in the past, all the relevant information had been directly shoved into my brain, and I had an innate understanding of it. This time, that didn’t happen. Instead, a thin book appeared in my mental library.

Opening this new book, I found easily understandable diagrams for channeling energy through my soul to grow and strengthen it. Following these diagrams were several pages about the design and intent behind this technique. These passages were all written in poetry and contained meaning beyond what I was able to understand. The first line was:

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‘Light falls to the foot of my bed. I lift my head and gaze at the moon.’

I could cultivate the technique using only the diagrams, but without understanding these passages, there would be unknown risks.

Fortunately, I had asked for things to be ‘clearly stated,’ and poems were anything but ‘clear.’ At the end of the book, written in a completely different hand that looked more like it was printed by a machine, several paragraphs provided details about what this cultivation technique did and how it did it. This gave me all the information I would need so that I would not have to rely on deciphering the original text of the technique.

In short, it grew the soul while maintaining a core that was connected to a person’s ’original self.’ This core would remain like an egg in its shell in the center of the soul. The core could change and grow naturally, but it would not be affected by the cultivation technique or the new areas of the soul created through the use of the technique.

To use Instructor Yuan’s analogy, I would build a wall around the garden of who I was. As I cultivated this technique, fields would grow outside of this wall, and they would be sowed with the ideas and philosophies I fed them, but those outer fields would have no impact on my inner secluded garden.

This was a technique for a nostalgic person who cared more about who they were in the past than who they would become in the future.

If I ever chose to cultivate a different soul technique, the wall this technique placed on my core identity would be destroyed, and I would never be able to rebuild it. However, until that time, who I was would be protected.

This protection would even extend to defending me against external influences. After cultivating this technique, if I were to be infected by a soul gu, it would be able to harm the outer layers of my soul, but it would not be able to penetrate the protected core.

As for drawbacks, while I would maintain a core ‘garden,’ the outer fields would still affect me. My personality would still shift to fall in line with the philosophies I studied as I cultivated. The protections around my core would make razing the outer fields to plant new ideas more difficult, but it also made it so such a transformation was much safer as it wouldn’t affect my core ‘self.’

I was still worried about cultivating my soul, but the Earthly Dao had handed me everything I could have wanted from such a technique. At this point, the risks were mitigated to such an extent that I felt I had to move forward with it.

I just had to decide which ‘path’ I wanted to follow. This cultivation technique could create new fields in my soul, but I needed to be careful what I planted in them.

Knowing that this would be the most important decision I had ever made, I committed myself to paying an appropriate cost. I wanted the best information I could get, but the wider I cast my net, the worse my results would be. I wanted to ask the System for information on the best possible paths for soul cultivation, but that was far beyond what I could afford. I had to settle for information about what was in front of me.

“System, I wish to purchase information about the four paths of soul cultivation advocated by the Academy. I want reference materials about them that are not available on this continent. If possible, I want information not available in this world. I want the best I can get for one billion credits.”

Purchase confirmed. Cost 1 billion credits. 7,733,086,524 credits remaining.

Four books appeared in my mental library. There were the Analects, the Mozi, the Book of Lord Shang, and the Dao De Jing. These books were not of this world. They were completely foreign and free of influence from the powers of this world.

While I was not completely happy with any of my options, I could use these new texts to chart a temporary path forward. Only after growing and learning more could I hope to develop a path that was truly my own.

By the end of the first year of the term, I had risen to Martial Master 5 and gained a solid understanding of how Instructor Yuan felt I should teach my future students.

When I was in Eight Flower, I had purchased a comprehension boost to my teaching skills, and during this year, I had considered boosting it further to gain a better understanding of teaching techniques. However, I didn’t feel that my comprehension was limiting me. Instead, the material and knowledge of teaching I was provided was what limited my improvement.

This continent didn’t have anything resembling the educational framework I knew of in my first life. There were no peer-reviewed papers, and no one did clinical research on teaching methodologies. Everything was based on tradition and what a teacher personally decided would work. I wanted to purchase teaching skills from a world, or at least a continent, that had a deeper educational tradition, but such a thing was beyond my means.

If there were philosophers researching soul cultivation on the Central Continent, they might also have researchers for teaching methods. If I ever got there, I would have to see what I could discover.

All that said, Instructor Yuan did consider both Yan and me ready for the beginning of our classes, so we spent all our free time in the library studying soul cultivation.

I had spent a lot of time and energy reading about the different philosophies discussed in these books and had come to a conclusion on which path I would walk.

The Legalist path was eliminated quickly. I had no desire to study and craft laws, and I certainly didn’t want to feel bound by the laws created by the people of this world. While I could see many potential advantages to advocating this path, it was a terrible fit for me.

The Traditionalist path could be eliminated for similar reasons. The focus on filial piety killed it for me before I even began to consider it as an option. There was no way I was going to cultivate a path of being pious toward the Su Clan.

My main choice was between the Daoist and Universalist paths. The first was the path of separating myself from the world. The second was a path of universal love and working to better the world around me.

Being in an eternal time loop, I had naturally begun to separate myself from the world. It was sometimes hard to think that anything mattered other than my own advancement. Walking the path of a Daoist would only amplify these feelings to a point where I would begin treating everything as a tool to use for my own benefit.

This made me realize why the Earthly Dao had been so generous in giving me a technique that I felt I had no choice but to use. It wanted me to walk the path of the Universalist. It would see it as a way to encourage me to help the world, and helping the world meant helping the Earthly Dao.

Emperor Li’s words about not trusting the implications I drew from the information I received echoed through my mind, but this conclusion rang true to me. It might not be the only reason I was given that technique, but it had to be a large part of it.

Sitting at a table in the library with my classmates, we all looked at each other.

Yan was the first to speak. “Has everyone made their decisions?”

We had all agreed not to influence each other’s choices, but we did want to help each other develop and learn more once those choices were made.

We all nodded.

YuLong grinned. “Daoist. I’m not willing to follow people who stole my chance at an affinity.”

JiaQi smirked. “Daoist. I feel about the same way.”

LiTing dipped her head. “Daoist.”

Yan looked at me, but I motioned for him to go first. “Daoist. It will help me gain the strength I need.”

Being the odd one out, I smiled ruefully. “Universalist. It’s the correct path for me at this time.”

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