East Blue, Star Cape Town.
The sunlight was blinding, and the sea breeze blew gently.
Wave after wave crashed against the sandy shore, while noisy voices and the cries of unknown birds drifted from afar.
Ronan opened his eyes, his vision swallowed by that nearly dazzling azure blue.
It was a sky he had never seen before—clear, boundless, a blue that seemed capable of washing even the soul clean.
"Where... am I?"
He murmured softly, his throat so dry that he could barely make a sound.
Ronan pushed himself up with both hands and, using the reflection in the seawater, got a clear look at himself.
—A strange yet powerful body.
He stood six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, defined muscles, and strength coursing through every inch of him.
This was not his body. It was even more perfect than the one he had tempered through over twenty years of cultivation.
Just then—
Buzz—
A strange hum reverberated through his mind.
A pale blue screen slowly appeared.
[Perseverance System loading...] [Only rule: As long as you do not stop cultivating, your strength will grow without end] [Host: Ronan] [Strength: 10] [Speed: 10] [Physique: 10] [Spirit: 10] [Skill: Xing Yi Thirteen Spears] [Overall Combat Power Assessment: An elite among ordinary people]
The words on the screen trembled faintly in the air.
Ronan froze.
He had been born into a martial arts family and had entered the path through Xing Yi from childhood. The only thing he believed in was his own strength.
Yet everything before him—impossible to explain—was undeniably real.
He had died once.
And now, he was alive again.
Alive in a completely New World.
The waves surged in again, sea spray splashing against his ankles.
From the distance came faint shouts and... crying?
Ronan suddenly looked up.
Beyond the rolling sand dunes, he saw the small town not far away—engulfed in raging flames, black smoke shooting into the sky.
Cries of battle and screams mingled with the sea breeze.
He did not hesitate.
With a tap of his toes, his body swept through the air like a hunting hawk. After several leaps, he had already arrived outside the town.
Beneath the shadows of ruined houses, he saw the scene before him:
Dozens of pirates in tattered coats, wielding sabers, were slaughtering people at will.
An old man gripped an iron shovel tightly, standing in front of a child who was crying out, "Grandfather!"
"Run!"
The old man roared hoarsely.
"You old bastard, die!"
A pirate with a face full of scars grinned viciously and swung his blade down.
The blade's flash tore through the air—
Seeing this, Ronan suddenly understood. The world he was in now was probably no longer his original world.
These bandits were dressed like the pirates of legend.
In the blink of an eye, the old man was about to be butchered, his blood splattering on the spot.
Ronan had no time to think. His right hand shot out, snatching up a wooden stick by his feet as he stomped down—sand exploded from the ground.
The next instant, his figure appeared behind the pirate.
The staff shot forth like a Dragon, swift as thunder!
"Pfft!"
The wooden staff pierced through the pirate's chest, blood spraying everywhere.
The pirate's smile froze on his face. Before he could even scream, his body went limp and collapsed to the ground.
Blood trickled down the wooden staff, splashing into crimson flowers on the ground.
Ronan let out a faint breath and flicked the tip of the staff, shaking the corpse free.
He raised his eyes and looked at the old man. "Who are these people?"
The old man shakily climbed up from the ground, his voice trembling.
"Pi... pirates. They're pirates! Young man, run! They even dare to kill Marines—"
Before he could finish—
[System notification: Host has entered combat state. Cultivation Multiplier ×3]
Buzz—
Ronan's pupils suddenly contracted.
The blood and energy within him boiled like a volcanic eruption.
A deep series of explosions sounded from his muscles and bones. He could clearly feel that every breath was making his body stronger.
"Cultivation... can actually grow during battle?"
The corner of the mouth curled slightly as long-lost Fighting Spirit rose in his eyes.
The sea wind howled, sunlight illuminating his resolute profile.
The wooden staff slowly leveled in his hand, like a silent iron spear.
Ronan's chest cavity rose and fell, blood and energy surging through his body like fire.
That power—violent, vivid, almost scorching.
In his previous life, he had painstakingly trained in Xing Yi Thirteen Spears day and night, never slacking off. Yet every bit of progress had required sweat and pain.
But now, merely entering a combat state allowed him to feel his strength steadily rising.
That tangible feeling of growth made his heart tremble, shock and wild joy intertwined into one.
"This body... this talent..."
Ronan murmured softly, curling his fingers slightly as his knuckles gave off faint cracking sounds in the air.
—Perfect.
This physical body had practically been born for cultivation.
His gaze passed over the flames and chaos, settling on the pirates still wreaking havoc in the distance.
Under the sunlight, their savage laughter sounded like a devilish chorus. The townspeople scattered in panic, cries and wails rising one after another.
The scene was like hell descending upon the world.
Ronan lowered his eyes, his voice low. "Old man, leave now."
The old man froze and looked at the young man before him—
Though young, he radiated an aura so overwhelming that no one dared meet his gaze.
That aura was not something shouted into existence. It came from the coldness and determination deep in his bones.
The old man understood. This young man... would not retreat.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled his grandson and ran toward the edge of town.
Watching the old man's retreating figure, Ronan took a deep breath and planted his foot against the ground.
"Bang—!"
Power erupted, and shattered stones shot in every direction.
Amid the billowing dust, his figure flew forth like an arrow loosed from a bow.
At that moment, his heart was calmer than ever before.
It was not numbness, but the clarity of a warrior.
It was the martial heart a cultivator hardened through practice found between life and death.
He felt the flow of that Fighting Spirit, almost able to hear the low chant of his own soul.
"Since this is a New World where I can cultivate,"
"Then let them see what Xing Yi truly is."
He softly spoke the final word.
His figure suddenly vanished from where he stood.
The wind rose sharply, murderous intent surging like a tide.
The wooden staff in Ronan's hand pointed diagonally at the ground as he charged into the small town like a streak of shadow.
His steps were as steady as stone yet as light as a roaming Dragon—the footwork of Xing Yi, carrying the force of Dragon-Tiger.
Whoosh!
He moved through the chaos of the battlefield, his aura sharp as a blade edge.
Ahead, a pirate had a hand pressed against a young girl's shoulder, a cruel smile on his face.
Just as that smile fully bloomed—
Ronan was already there!
"Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain!"
Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain was the seventh form of Xing Yi Thirteen Spears. It relied entirely on the force of the waist and arms, and the movement had to flow in one continuous motion without the slightest hesitation.
Normally, the hands, eyes, Movement Technique, and footwork all had to coordinate perfectly.
But after twenty years immersed in spear techniques, Ronan had long since mastered them completely. He was no longer bound by rigid forms.
Ronan leaped directly in front of the pirate.
The staff thrust out like a spear, tearing through the air—
"Whoosh—!"
The air ripped apart, and the shockwave roared.
In an instant, the tip of the staff swept across the pirate's throat with such force that even his scream was abruptly cut short.
"Bang!"
A muffled sound rang out.
Blood sprayed in all directions as the pirate's body was sent flying several meters away. He slammed heavily into the ground, his neck broken, never to make another sound.
In the small town, Ronan stood with 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 power within his body growing stronger without cease.
A glint flashed through Ronan's pupils.
In that instant, he seemed to see the road ahead—a path of cultivation stretching endlessly onward.
And this Great Sea was his proving ground.
Before you continue