Master of the System

Twenty-nine dismayed inner disciples sat around in a circle. After having their spoils returned to their undefeatable enemies by their very own guide, they were forced to fight titans at night whilst having their heads stuck to a giant golden frisbee. When the night was over, they were whisked away to a new area and dropped on the ground. However, none of them had any motivation to go exploring.

“What’s wrong?” Grandpa Vremya asked. “This place isn’t fresh enough for you to explore?”

The inner disciples stared at their guide with aggrieved expressions. Even if they risked their lives to harvest treasures, they’d be forced to return them unless they were strong enough to kill the beasts guarding the loot. A few disciples had pulled it off yesterday, successfully raiding nests and fruit trees, but upon hearing their fellow disciples’ plights, their joy was short-lived—mostly because a lot of them had severed their ability to feel joy.

“Well, whatever,” Grandpa Vremya said. He glanced at Azalea. “See? They understand the true worth of the pocket realm comes at night. Look at them conserving their energy to fight titans.”

Azalea rolled her eyes. If they had a normal guide, they’d certainly be exploring as much as possible. “Can this pocket realm’s so-called true worth win you the silver chicken feather?”

“Obviously,” Grandpa Vremya said. The inner disciples’ eyes lit up and glanced at their untrustworthy guide. Did he really have a way to make them stronger or richer than all the other groups? Grandpa Vremya held out his palm, and a black tentacle appeared in his hand. A bottle appeared on the ground before him, and there was a bit of distortion around the black limb. It was crushed and squeezed; all of the blood that had been trapped inside was forced into the glass bottle, leaving a dried limb behind. Grandpa Vremya tossed the dried tentacle to Azalea. “Eat this.”

Azalea stared at the tentacle. It was tough and wrinkled, looking a lot like a piece of dried beef. “How about you eat it?”

Grandpa Vremya waved his hand dismissively. “You know I don’t eat things.”

“According to the pocket realm’s description, the miniature titans, as you call them, are extremely poisonous.” Azalea handed the tentacle back to Grandpa Vremya. “If we eat this, we’ll die.”

Grandpa Vremya snorted. “Only the blood is poisonous,” he said and placed the tentacle back into Azalea’s hands. “I already squeezed all of it out. Eat it.”

Azalea stared at the tentacle in her hands. No matter how much she trusted Grandpa Vremya, she still couldn’t help but hesitate when she thought about how the tentacle would taste. Not to mention, the tentacles were used by the titans to wrap around anything and everything. It was unsanitary. However, the trust she had built up over the decades with Grandpa Vremya overcame her feelings of repulsion. She took in a deep breath and brought the tentacle to her mouth. Without hesitation, she bit a chunk of it off, reinforcing her teeth with her spiritual energy to make it a clean separation.

“Wait, what the hell?” Grandpa Vremya asked. “You’re just going to eat it like that? Don’t tell me you don’t know how to cook; you did my chores for five years.”

Azalea spat the chunk of tentacle out of her mouth. “You should’ve told me that first!”

“Isn’t that common sense?” Grandpa Vremya asked. “If I gave you a raw piece of meat and told you to eat it, you’d obviously cook it first, no?”

“Shut up!” Azalea’s face flushed red. She huffed and stomped away. The inner disciples exchanged glances with one another, but none of them chose to comment. They just watched as Azalea took some wood out of her interspacial ring and set it on fire. A pot full of water soon followed, and soon, the tentacle was being turned into a stew. She glared at the rest of the inner disciples. “All of you are eating this with me.”

The inner disciples glanced at the rapidly darkening stew with stiff expressions. It was obvious Azalea was upset, but did she really have to take it out on them? Wasn’t the guide the one causing all sorts of disharmony within the group? It was a shame they had to follow him, or it’d be extremely difficult to find their way out. Like the entrance, the exit was created by the formation within the core disciples’ tokens. The inner disciples could only blame their bad luck and suck it up. They sat with bowls in their laps, waiting for the stew to be served. They had no idea why Azalea carried around so many bowls, but some questions shouldn’t be asked; everyone had their own secrets.

Meanwhile, Grandpa Vremya dealt with the spoils from last night. They started killing titans the instant night fell, but their spiritual energy was limited. After killing twenty titans, none of the inner disciples could perform any more attacks. As for Grandpa Vremya, he was in charge of flying them around and keeping them alive. To the inner disciples’ surprise, he was able to maintain his flight for the whole night.

Grandpa Vremya took four titan hearts and integrated them into the Frostwind Armor Golem, using some titan blood in the process. With that, the golem was now slightly weaker than a nascent-soul cultivator, but it couldn’t be upgraded anymore. The titan hearts might’ve been miraculous, but they could only upgrade a material by so much. Still, he was satisfied with the result. Since the Frostwind Armor Golem was finished with its upgrades, he moved on to the regular armor sets. With one heart and three bottles of titan blood, a regular armor set could be turned into a golem with strength a little weaker than a foundation-establishment cultivator. It wasn’t that strong, but it was more than enough for menial tasks.

After upgrading sixteen golems, Grandpa Vremya put away the bottles of titan blood. There were no more hearts for him to work with, and the only things left were the tentacles. He took a few more glass bottles out of his interspacial necklace and compressed the tentacles, squeezing all the liquid out of them. After putting away the new bottles of blood, he walked over to the group of inner disciples and dropped the remaining tentacles on the ground. “Eat these too.”

Azalea’s expression darkened. The first tentacle still wasn’t completely cooked. Although she had never cooked a titan before, she could still tell it was raw. After she took another look at the tentacle in the stew, she frowned and removed it, choosing to slice it into bits instead. There were too many tentacles; by the time they were all done cooking, it’d already be night. She took some cooked rice out of her interspacial ring and molded them into small balls. She placed the slices of black tentacles on top of them and frowned before taking out some sauce. She dipped the makeshift piece of sushi into the sauce and took a bite out of it. Surprisingly, it didn’t taste bad. In fact, it didn’t really taste like anything. Azalea swallowed and circulated her spiritual energy, making sure there wasn’t any poison flowing through her body. As expected, Grandpa Vremya was telling the truth.

“How is it, Sister Azalea?”

“It’s alright,” Azalea said and furrowed her brow. “I don’t feel any different though.” She turned towards Grandpa Vremya, who had already shut his eyes and began cultivating again. “What is eating this supposed to do for us?”

“It’ll make you stronger,” Grandpa Vremya said. “Eat more; you barely ate any.”

Azalea frowned and gestured towards the tentacles laying on the ground. She took out a giant wok of cooked rice and a barrel full of sauce. “Make some yourselves. Wash them before you eat them.”

The inner disciples did as they were told, curious about the effects of eating titans. Even though their guide was a bit cruel and worked against them, surely, he wouldn’t really, really work against them, right? After the disciples finished eating all the tentacles, they exchanged glances with one another.

“Do you feel any different?”

“No. My spiritual energy hardly recovered at all also.”

“Wait! Girls, girls! Look!”

The inner disciples turned towards the one disciple who had shouted. She undid the sash around her waist, opened her robe, and lifted up her shirt to reveal her stomach. There were eight, highly visible muscles showing. Her abdomen looked as if it had been carved from stone. The inner disciple rolled up her sleeves and flexed her arms, revealing a bulging bicep that would’ve put a bodybuilder to shame.

Azalea’s eyes bulged, and she rolled up her sleeve as well. Her arm was just as buff as her fellow inner disciple. She looked around and saw the other disciples stripping and examining their bodies without shame. Azalea glanced at Grandpa Vremya; his eyes were still closed as if he were oblivious to the commotion. She stomped over while biting her lower lip. “Vremya! What the hell!”

Grandpa Vremya opened his eyes. He leaned to the side and glanced at the inner disciples. “See? You’re stronger now.”

Azalea’s arm trembled. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack him or strangle him first.