My win in the competition was strange. I didn’t understand it. Possibly, the System-granted ability was more accurate in calculating efficacy than the sect elders. It was possible, but I didn’t believe it, not to that extent.


    There had to be another factor at play, but I didn’t know what it could be. I had to just take one step at a time. Eventually, I would figure everything out.


    Having come third in the competition, my reward was a spirit fire. I knew that this was the difference between a Disciple and a Master Alchemist, but I didn’t know many details. I had avoided looking into it too much until after I knew I could get my hands on it.


    The winners had a few days before we would be taken to receive the prize, so I spent that time researching. Thankfully, there was an easy solution to learn all I needed to know. The Technique Hall had a few books detailing what spirit fires were and how to use them. Clearly, they knew many disciples would be interested in the topic. I borrowed a copy and went back to my apartment to read.


    So, what is a spirit fire? My personal analogy is that they are a type of symbiote, or maybe a parasite. A spirit fire lives in the body and consumes a small amount of the body’s energy to feed itself. In return, the host can channel its energy through the fire to change it, to make it something new.


    The spirit fire given out by the Twin Mountains Sect was called the Cold Mountain Fire. From what I read, it, strangely enough, had no fire qi in it but was instead composed of something closer to a type of earth qi. The fire was supposed to be like something made of 90% earth energy and 10% water energy. The energy wasn’t qi, but nothing I read said what it was.


    The hows and whys of this I don’t know, but the benefits were certain. The reason one needed a spirit fire to be a Master Alchemist was because of the ingredients used in higher-rank pills. Pure fire qi became a poor tool to deal with them. Instead, the unique energy of a spirit fire would easily be able to break down many types of complex pill toxins.


    What the Twin Mountains Sect had was called a fire seed. Fire seeds were incredibly powerful and unbelievably important. Fire seeds created spirit fire. With a Cold Mountain Fire seed, the sect had an endless supply of spirit fire to infuse into their disciples’ bodies. After a portion was taken away, they just had to wait for it to recover. As long as the seed remained, it would keep producing new flames.


    While fire seeds are beneficial to organizations like the sect, they can have an even more profound impact if absorbed by a cultivator. Unlike regular spirit fire, a seed isn’t absorbed into the body, it is absorbed into the soul, and seeds absorb energy from the environment, not the cultivator.


    They strengthen the soul and can produce endless flames. Some spirit fires are better than others, but most cultivators would fight tooth and nail to get any flame possible.


    So, why wasn’t this seed absorbed long ago? Only Martial Grandmasters came to this area, no one higher. To absorb a fire seed safely, you needed to be at a much greater stage of cultivation. I had no idea how high. When you absorb a fire seed, it washes the soul in flames, purifying and strengthening it. That energy then enters the body, ruthlessly attacking anything in its way. If someone’s cultivation isn’t high enough, the act of absorbing a spirit fire is deadly.


    <hr>


    After learning the details of spirit fires, I sat alone in my room.


    Darkness came, but I didn’t turn on any lights.


    I continued to silently consider.


    Normally a spirit fire is absorbed into the body. It is like an external object, no different from clothing or a weapon. If I died, it would be gone. If I wanted it back, I would have to find it again. I would have to redo this every single life if I wanted to keep it. But a fire seed is absorbed into the soul. If I had a fire seed, I would always have it.


    Was it possible though?


    It was considered safe to let sect disciples near the fire because they believed there was no danger of it being stolen. We would not be given flames directly. We would be taken to the core spirit fire, where the seed was, and we would gather flames ourselves. I would be right there, next to the seed.


    If I took it, I would die. Of course, this didn’t bother me. I was willing to die for a purpose, and this seemed like it might be the most impactful death possible. The details were important though. Everything I read said the danger was to the body of a cultivator. There was not even a mention of a damaged soul from absorbing a fire seed. My death didn’t matter, much. As long as my soul was safe, I would be fine.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I wanted to take the fire seed. Having a seed for the Cold Mountain Fire would be enormously beneficial for a long time to come.


    Taking the seed was the right course for my future.


    But, taking it… that would be stealing the lifeblood of the sect. It would be a calamity. The sect had been very good to me. The amount I had learned, the amount I improved… It was so much. Yes, I knew they gave me a cultivation method that was probably messing with my mind in ways I didn’t know, but still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that stealing this fire seed from them was just wrong.


    This would be the first thing I did that I felt was morally wrong on a fundamental level.


    It felt wrong. I thought about why. I would be destroying a sect with people I had come to like. Bao Wen was my friend. We had lived together for years. Cao MeiLan was my teacher. I had learned so much. Over the years, I had been focused on advancing, so our relationships weren’t as deep as they could have been, but I still cared for them.


    If I took this flame, I might be dooming the sect and destroying their futures.


    ‘Did it matter?’ I asked myself. ‘Did any of it actually matter? I was going to die and be reborn. The sect would get their seed back and I would have one too. Did it matter if I stole it? It felt wrong, but if I took it, would anyone truly be hurt?’


    After I took the flame, I would die. All of this would reset. None of it would have ever happened.


    It didn’t matter. My time at the sect. Spending time with Bao. Going to lessons and learning from Cao.


    None of it would have ever happened.


    Suddenly, I froze.


    A question with horrifying implications appeared in my mind. It was… I mean… Why had I never even thought to ask before? The more I thought about it, the more I had to have an answer.


    “System,” I began carefully, “what happens to these timelines after I die?”


    I waited. No response came.


    “System!” I shouted, “What happens to these timelines after I die? Do they vanish, completely resetting with me, or do they continue on after I’m gone?”


    That question cannot be answered.


    “Bullshit! You said it many times! I can purchase anything! How much does it cost?”


    The price of information depends on how much it will affect the flow of karma. The greater the effect, the greater the cost. The cost of the answer to your question is impossible. You will <u>never</u> be able to pay it.


    How could the cost be impossible? What did that mean? I knew immediately. It was obvious.


    The answer to the question would change who I was. It would change everything I did from that point forward. It would affect everything I touched.


    I couldn’t know the answer to the question. The System wouldn’t tell me, and I had no way to find out on my own.


    So then. What should I do?


    I needed an answer, but I couldn’t get one.


    Did I even really have a future?


    If everything always reset. If everything vanished every time I died.


    Did anything really matter?


    What if I fell in love? What if I had children? Would they just vanish with me?


    I couldn’t know. I couldn’t allow that to happen. To love and raise children, perhaps for hundreds of years, only for them to have never existed? <u>No</u>!


    If I told myself “It’s okay. The universe will just keep going after you’re gone. They will be fine.” If I told myself that and it turned out I was wrong… I couldn’t deal with that.


    No, I had to act like the universe vanished with me. I had to believe that. Moving forward with the na?ve hope that when I cared about something it would be fine after I was gone, I couldn’t do that. That was a path to hell.


    But then… Was it fine for me to murder and torture people? Was it fine because, afterward, it would never have happened?


    ‘Hey, I beat your child to death in front of you, but don’t worry, it will all be reset in a few months.’


    To act, to truly believe that everything vanished. That nothing was permanent. To know, no matter how hard I worked, nothing I did mattered…


    <u>No</u>, I couldn’t be that person either.


    I made a vow to myself.


    First, I would not allow myself to become a monster. Even if the evil I did was reset, and it didn’t hurt anyone else, it would still hurt me. I had to be willing to cross some lines I wouldn’t have in the past—that was just how this world worked—but every single time I did so it needed to be done with deliberation. Never just doing evil because I could.


    Second, for the time being, no attachments. Working with people was fine. Becoming friends was fine. But falling in love. Raising children. Anything I couldn’t bear to allow to be reset. That could not happen.


    Third, this System seemed to have given me eternal life, but the cost was that I no longer had a future. I could just get rid of the System. That was possible, but there was a better way. If the System had destroyed my future, I would damn well make a new one.


    I looked up. The moral crisis strengthened me. It focused me.


    Should I take the fire seed? That was the question I had to answer.


    This was crossing the line of my personal morals. I had to be deliberate in my decision.


    If the universe vanished, no harm would be done. Even if it felt wrong, I could accept this.


    If it didn’t vanish, the sect would be hurt badly, but the people would survive. It might be hard times, but they would still be skilled and knowledgeable. It was bad, but not apocalyptic. The advantages to myself moving forward would be unimaginable.


    Most importantly, my time in the Su Clan had taught me that this world wasn’t kind. If someone else had the power, they would take it. The morals of this world, those I had seen, told me that taking it was acceptable. This theft crossed my moral line, but not the line of this world.


    Was I deluding myself? Making justification for an unjustifiable act? Maybe. Probably so. But I still made my decision. Right or wrong, I would stand by it.


    I had to take the seed.