Awakening [Perseverance] System

East Blue, Star Cape Town.

The sunlight was blinding, and the sea breeze blew softly.

Waves crashed against the sandy shore in rhythmic succession, while the sounds of noisy crowds and the cries of unknown birds drifted from the distance.

Ronan opened his eyes, his vision swallowed by that almost dazzling shade of azure.

That was a sky he had never seen before—clear, boundless, a blue that seemed capable of cleansing even the soul.

"Where... is this?"

He murmured, his throat so parched he could barely produce a sound.

Ronan propped himself up with his hands, and through the reflection in the seawater, he saw himself clearly.

—A strange yet powerful body.

Standing at one meter eighty-five, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his muscles were well-defined and brimming with strength.

This was not his body; this physique was even more perfect than the one he had tempered through over twenty years of cultivation.

Just then—

Hum—

A strange ringing sound vibrated through his mind.

A pale blue light screen slowly materialized.

[Perseverance System loading...]

[Unique Rule: As long as you do not cease your cultivation, your strength will grow without end.]

[Host: Ronan]

[Strength: 10]

[Speed: 10]

[Physique: 10]

[Spirit: 10]

[Skill: Xing Yi Thirteen Spears]

[Comprehensive Combat Power Assessment: Elite among ordinary people]

The text on the light screen shimmered slightly in the air.

Ronan was stunned.

He came from a Martial Arts Family and had entered the path through Xing Yi since childhood; he believed only in his own strength.

Yet, everything before him—inexplicable, but undeniably real.

He—had died once.

And now, he was alive again.

Living in a brand-new world.

The waves surged again, splashing foam onto his ankles.

In the distance, faint shouts and... crying?

Ronan snapped his head up.

His gaze crossed the undulating sand dunes, and he saw the small town not far away—flames were churning, and black smoke soared straight into the sky.

The sounds of battle cries and screams were mixed into the sea breeze.

He did not hesitate.

With a tap of his toes, his body swept through the air like a hunting falcon, and within a few leaps, he appeared outside the town.

Under the shadow of a ruined house, he witnessed the scene:

Dozens of pirates, draped in tattered coats and wielding machetes, were slaughtering at will.

An old man gripped a shovel tightly, blocking the path in front of a child who was crying out "Grandfather."

"Run!"

The old man roared hoarsely.

"Die, you old fossil!"

A pirate with a face full of scars grinned hideously and swung his blade down.

The blade's light tore through the wind—

Seeing this, Ronan suddenly realized that the world he was in now was likely not his original one.

The attire of these bandits looked just like the pirates of legend.

It all happened in the blink of an eye; the old man was on the verge of being cruelly slaughtered, his blood about to stain the ground.

Ronan had no time to think. He reached out his right hand, grabbed the wooden stick at his feet, and stomped his foot—the ground exploded in a cloud of dust.

The next instant, his figure appeared behind the pirate.

The stick thrust out like a dragon, its momentum like thunder!

"Pfft!"

The wooden stick pierced through the chest, and blood splattered.

The pirate's smile froze on his face. Before he could even scream, his body went limp and fell to the ground.

Blood dripped from the tip of the stick, falling to the ground and splashing out like blooming flowers.

Ronan exhaled lightly, flicked the tip of the stick, and shook the corpse off.

He raised his eyes and looked at the old man, "Who are these people?"

The old man trembled as he got up from the ground, his voice quivering, "Pi... Pirates, they're pirates, little brother, run! They even dare to kill the Navy—"

Before he could finish—

[System Prompt: Host has entered combat state, Cultivation Multiplier ×3]

Buzz—

Ronan's pupils contracted sharply.

The qi and blood within his body boiled, like a volcanic eruption.

A low booming sound echoed through his bones and muscles; he could clearly feel his body growing stronger with every breath.

"Cultivation... I can actually grow in battle?"

A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth, and a long-lost fighting spirit flickered in his eyes.

The sea breeze rustled, and the sunlight illuminated his resolute profile.

The wooden stick was slowly held level in his hand, like a silent iron spear.

Ronan's chest rose and fell, qi and blood surging like fire within his body.

That kind of power—surging, vibrant, almost scorching.

In his previous life, he had diligently practiced Xing Yi Thirteen Spears, day and night, without slackening, but back then—every bit of progress had to be exchanged for sweat and pain.

But now, just by entering a combat state, he could feel his strength slowly increasing.

That direct sense of growth almost made his heart tremble, a mixture of shock and ecstasy intertwined.

"This body... this talent..."

Ronan murmured softly, his fingers slightly curled, his knuckles emitting a faint popping sound in the air.

—Perfect.

This physical body was simply born for cultivation.

His gaze swept past the smoke, fire, and chaos, towards the group of pirates rampaging in the distance.

Under the sunlight, their ferocious laughter sounded like a chorus of demons. The townsfolk scattered, their cries of anguish rising one after another.

That scene was like hell descending upon the mortal world.

Ronan lowered his gaze, his voice deep, "Old man, you should leave quickly."

The old man froze, looking at the young man before him—

Though young, he exuded an aura that dared not be looked down upon.

That aura was not a roar, but a cold resolve and determination emanating from his very bones.

The old man understood; this young man... would not retreat.

He gritted his teeth and pulled his grandson, running towards the outskirts of the town.

Watching the old man's retreating figure, Ronan took a deep breath, his soles pressed against the ground.

"Bang—!"

Force erupted, and gravel shot out.

Amidst the flying dust, his figure shot out like an arrow from a bow.

At this moment, his heart was calmer than ever before.

It was not numbness, but the emptiness of a warrior.

It was the Dao heart found by a practitioner hardened through practice, in the midst of life and death.

He felt the flow of this fighting spirit, almost hearing the low hum of his own soul.

"Since this is a New World where I can cultivate,"

"Then let them witness what—Xing Yi—is."

He softly uttered the last word.

The figure vanished from the spot in an instant.

The wind rose abruptly, and killing intent surged like a tide.

Ronan held his wooden staff pointed diagonally toward the ground, his entire person charging into the town like a streak of shadow.

His footwork was as steady as a rock and as agile as a swimming dragon—it was the footwork of Xing Yi, imbued with the momentum of the Dragon-Tiger.

Whoosh!

He wove through the clamor of the battlefield, his aura as sharp as a Blade Edge.

Ahead, a pirate was pressing down on a young girl's shoulder, a cruel smile plastered on his face.

The very moment that smile fully bloomed—

Ronan had arrived!

"Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain!"

The Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain stance was the seventh form of the Xing Yi Thirteen Spears, relying entirely on the strength of the waist and arms; the movement had to be executed in one breath, without a hint of hesitation.

Originally, it required the hands, eyes, Movement Technique, and footwork to be in perfect coordination.

But as a spear technique Ronan had immersed himself in for twenty years, it had long since been mastered, no longer constrained by the rigidity of the moves.

Ronan leaped directly, landing right in front of the pirate.

The staff struck out like a spear, carrying the sound of tearing air—

"Whew—!"

The air was ripped apart, and shockwaves roared.

In a split second, the tip of the staff swept across the pirate's throat with such ferocious force that the man's scream was cut short.

"Thud!"

A Muffled Sound echoed.

Blood splattered everywhere as the pirate's body was sent flying several meters, crashing heavily onto the ground with a broken neck, falling silent forever.

In the town, Ronan stood holding the staff in one hand, his expression cold and stern.

Blood dripped from the tip of the staff, staining the stone slabs at his feet red.

Feeling the strength within his body growing continuously.

A flash of light crossed Ronan's Pupils.

In that instant, he seemed to see the path ahead—a path of cultivation extending into infinity.

And this Great Sea was precisely his proving ground.