Master of the System - Chapter 147

Azalea stared at Grandpa Vremya. She had seen him do strange things, but she wasn’t quite sure what he was doing now. He seemed to be sitting inside a cauldron which was resting over a massive firepit. A strong blaze was going underneath, and the surface of the cauldron was bright red from the heat. Azalea stood on her tiptoes to get a clearer view of what was going on inside. Other than Grandpa Vremya, there was nothing else. He was even naked, and his interspatial items had been placed on the wooden table inside the room. She wondered if it was a fire hazard to have such a strong blaze going in the middle of a room, but the Grandpa Vremya she knew would’ve taken the necessary precautions to keep it from burning down. Even though she knew Grandpa Vremya, she didn’t know what the hell he was doing. “What are you doing?”

“Forging my body,” Grandpa Vremya said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not necessarily,” Azalea said. “At first, I thought you were taking a hot bath but got distracted and didn’t notice the water had evaporated. But now, I guess I can see you refining yourself. Is this useful?”

“If it wasn’t useful, would I be doing it?” Grandpa Vremya asked and snorted, keeping his eyes shut. “There are two ways to pass the tribulation of the body. The standard way is to accumulate enough spiritual energy to activate it. The second way is to temper your body to the point that the tribulation is unnecessary in the first place.”

“Unnecessary?” Azalea asked. Her cultivation technique was the standard one that the Moon Lotus Sect provided, but it was modified by Grandpa Vremya a bit. She just had to follow his guidance to advance in strength, but that also meant she didn’t understand why some things were as they were. Since she wasn’t even close to becoming a false immortal, obviously, she would know even less about the tribulations. However, now seemed like a good time as any to learn since she could tell Grandpa Vremya was in one of his teaching moods. She noticed he always felt like teaching when doing something painful as if he were searching for a way to distract himself.

“A false immortal has to face three tribulations before becoming an immortal,” Grandpa Vremya said. “That is the common belief. However, it isn’t true. One simply needs a body capable of withstanding the distortion that accompanies breaking through the barrier to a higher dimension, a mind capable of understanding the changes happening and able to react accordingly, and a spirit tough enough to endure the pressure brought by higher-dimension beings. As long as these three conditions are met, anyone can become an immortal at any time, even someone who just established their foundation can become immortal if they’re somehow capable of fulfilling those requirements. The three tribulations are simply ways to achieve those requirements.”

Azalea tilted her head. She knew better than to ask Grandpa Vremya how he knew this, but she still really wanted to know. So far, Grandpa Vremya had never been wrong with his words about cultivation, and she didn’t think he’d be wrong now. “So, you’re creating a body capable of breaking through dimensions? By dimensions, do you mean like a multiverse type of dimension, or like flat objects are two-dimensional kind of dimension?”

“The latter,” Grandpa Vremya said. “Imagine what would happen if your body turned two-dimensional. In order to survive, you’d need to overhaul nearly everything: your organs, your nervous system, your foundation. It’s the same for entering a higher dimension. Only with a strong enough body can you withstand the destructive force of converting yourself into a higher-dimensional being. Every one of your cells should be able to survive by themselves if they were cut off from each other—at least temporarily.”

Azalea glanced once more at the red cauldron. “And heating yourself up will prepare you for that.”

“I’m not just heating myself up,” Grandpa Vremya said. “The cauldron looks empty, but it’s filled with spiritual energy. I’m separating each individual cell using the heat generated by the fire, and I’m keeping them alive with my spiritual energy. Then, after reforging them, I’m fusing them back into my body. By the time the process is done, my body will be as strong as someone who passed their tribulation of the body.”

“Right,” Azalea said and checked her bracelet. “According to this website, there are around thirty to forty trillion cells in the human body. How long is this process going to take?”

Grandpa Vremya shrugged. “It shouldn’t take too long,” he said. “A year or two at most provided there aren’t too many distractions. It’s also an excellent way of training my mind. The more cells I reforge at once, the more strenuous it is on my mind. Although it isn’t comparable to passing the tribulation of the mind, it’s still quite beneficial.”

Azalea furrowed her brow. “Why don’t more false immortals do this?” she asked. “It seems easy enough.”

“Unless they’re like me, someone who hasn’t consumed anything at all other than spiritual energy, they won’t be able to,” Grandpa Vremya said. “Like how impure ores can only create crude weapons without being refined, a body with impurities can’t be reforged into something capable of withstanding a dimensional distortion unless its refined through the tribulation of the body.”

“It’s because of this moment that you haven’t eaten a single thing?” Azalea asked, raising an eyebrow. Wouldn’t that mean he had the knowledge of this ever since he was born? However, she couldn’t help but admire his dedication to cultivation, but after thinking about it, she realized it wasn’t too much to give up. Since Grandpa Vremya had never tasted delicious food in the first place, it wasn’t like he could miss the feeling of it going down his throat. However, he did have to pass on eating titan flesh and spiritual fruits and elixirs and pills. Was it worth it? Evidently. Azalea had eaten all of those things, but he was still ahead of her.

“That’s correct,” Grandpa Vremya said. “They also can’t have any negative karma, or skipping tribulations like this wouldn’t be possible either.”

Azalea scratched her head. “You make cultivation seem so easy. It makes me feel like my tribulation of the body won’t be tough at all.”

***

Rachel’s body contorted from the pain. She wanted to scream, but her chest was compressed, crumpled in on itself. Her lungs were in no shape to pump air through her windpipe much less make a sound. The line of text told her it’d free her from the barrier if she became an apostle of justice. As such, she accepted the offer because who wouldn’t after being confined for half a millennium? A pill had been transferred directly into her stomach, and spiritual energy radiated out of it like crazy. It was enough for her to begin her tribulation of the body; so, begin the tribulation she did.

Jade frowned, watching as Rachel underwent the tribulation within the spherical barrier. Jade had cut off Rachel’s spiritual-energy supply, and she had made sure there would be no way for the false immortal to continue getting stronger; however, Rachel was undergoing the tribulation anyway. Jade wondered where along the way she had made a mistake, but even with her tribulation-tempered mind, she couldn’t figure it out. In the end, there was nothing to be done. She waved her hand, and the barrier disappeared. Whether Rachel succeeded or failed, it didn’t matter. The barrier had fulfilled its purpose and was no longer necessary.

Rachel’s eyes glazed over. A moment later, they became bloodshot as they came into focus. A few spasms of her body later, they glazed over again. Once more, they focused as Rachel punched the ground, trying to regain control of her body. She felt like a stress ball being squeezed by a giant hand over and over at random intervals. When she thought she could breathe, her body would be mangled. When she braced herself for the impact, it wouldn’t come until she thought about dropping her guard. On top of that, her younger self was murdering her over and over. Every time she died in her mind, she’d lose consciousness and nearly die in reality. She was like a deer being constricted by a python. Whenever she lost consciousness, the interval it took for her to regain her sense of self became longer and longer. Every time she fainted, she drew closer and closer to death. Unless the tribulation ended soon, she was really going to die.

[You won’t die. You’re my apostle. Even if you want to die, without my permission, you aren’t allowed to.]

Warmth radiated throughout Rachel’s body, coming from her stomach, renewing her strength. Evidently, something had appeared inside of her again. Rachel’s eyes gleamed, and she used her newfound energy to fight the sensation of her body being squeezed. She wasn’t going to die! Definitely not before giving the woman who had trapped her for half a millennium a slap to the face.