The mountain wind carried whispers of greed and calculation as I continued devouring the death luck grass. Day after day, I consumed its bitter essence—raw at dawn, stewed under moonlight, baked until its fibers surrendered their hidden power. Each mouthful strengthened my foundation further, yet I knew the cost: my already fragile white thread of luck thinned even more. Still, in my half-dead state, I could endure what others dared not.
Word spread faster than wildfire through the obscure trails of Lague Mountain. Those who had plundered—ah, they called it "making use of"—the Lone family's remnants recognized the signs. The death luck grass was vanishing at an unnatural rate. Only the true owner of this isolated peak would dare such reckless consumption. Or rather, only a boy they believed too young, too broken to resist.
On the seventh dawn, a burly man in his thirties arrived. His physique was like forged iron, shoulders broad enough to block the sun, yet his face wore a solemn mask barely hiding greedy joy. He was one of the distant relatives who had stripped the house bare weeks earlier.
"Bayley Lone," he called, voice booming with false warmth. "It is time to awaken your aperture. The clan cannot let talent rot in isolation."
I rose slowly, wiping grass juice from my lips. Inside, I sneered. Not obligation. Not guilt. They needed me—for someone else. Another child's dantian awakening required a compatible partner, and my refined foundation, forged in death luck, had become the perfect catalyst. How convenient.
He led me down hidden paths to a secluded clearing where dozens of youths around sixteen gathered. Boys and girls, all trembling with anticipation and fear. The air hummed with nervous energy. This ceremony would decide everything: whether my journey began with comrades… or alone, true to the "Lone" in my name.
An elder stepped forward, voice grave as he recited the ancient method of aperture awakening.
The revelation struck the youths like thunder.
To awaken the aperture—the gateway that would allow qi to circulate and cultivation to truly begin—one must experience the union of yin and yang. Boy and girl. Flesh and essence. The act itself was the key. But the old truth hidden from children until now was far crueler: adults only glimpsed the technique when they themselves created life. The aphrodisiac surge that followed made boy and girl burn with uncontrollable heat. They could only couple with those whose apertures were awakening at the same moment. No outsiders. No delays.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Faces flushed crimson. Some youths immediately began scanning for partners, eyes darting with desperate calculation. Whispers turned to hurried negotiations. Matches formed quickly—some driven by long-hidden crushes, others by cold practicality.
I stood apart, waiting. My appearance was… unremarkable at best. Average features, low and plain, the kind that blended into any crowd. Only my hair—striking blue that shimmered like deep ocean waves—and my eyes, now a vivid violet thanks to the death luck grass, gave me an otherworldly edge. The real Bayley's eyes had been dull grey. These changes made me stand out just enough to be noticed, yet not enough for admiration.
I wondered inwardly which desperate or ugly girl would approach me. After all, who would willingly pair with the orphaned Lone boy whose family had been reduced to dust?
To my surprise, a girl stepped forward.
She was prettier than I expected—better looking than my current average frame. Slender, with soft curves just beginning to bloom, long dark hair cascading down her back, and clear eyes that held a mix of reluctance and determination. Her name was Lira, I later learned, from a minor branch of the plundering relatives.
She stopped before me, voice quiet but steady. "Bayley… will you perform the aperture awakening ceremony with me?"
I raised an eyebrow, careful not to let my underworld-honed smirk show. She continued quickly, almost guiltily, "I… I don't want to feel bad about taking your family's possessions. They were found to be very suitable for a cultivation journey. If we pair, at least I can ease that weight a little."
How noble. How convenient.
Inside, Bayley Lone—the new me—rolled his eyes. I already possessed enough materials scavenged from the mountain to sustain my journey to mid-level Rank 1. The most precious treasure, the one my grandfather had guarded jealously, had been seized by my father after his betrayal… only for his vengeful wife to kill him, wasting its power entirely. Even I, with my merged memories, did not know its exact nature. I had been too young, too mortal then.
But none of that mattered now.
I nodded calmly. "Very well."
As the clearing filled with the sounds of rustling clothes and nervous breaths, I began to undress. The bizarreness of the scene struck me deeply. In my previous life as Flick, I had been surrounded by women during such heated moments—power, luxury, and desire all tangled together. Now, I stood in a room full of boys and girls my age, all coupling under the watchful eyes of their parents and elders. No privacy. No shame allowed. Only the raw necessity of awakening.
The girl—Lira—undressed as well, her cheeks burning scarlet. She was nervous, trembling slightly.
I approached her with the confidence of someone who had walked far darker paths. I will show you refined techniques from the underworld, little girl.
I started gently. My fingers traced her bosom, moving upward to her nipples with deliberate care. A cute pinch—light, teasing. Her breath hitched, then escaped in a soft moan of unexpected pleasure. Only when I confirmed her body was responding did I slide my hand downward, stroking nerves with lewd precision, relaxing her tension until she grew slick and ready.
Then, slowly, I slid a finger into her cave, rotating two in gentle waves. Wet, sticky sounds filled the air, accompanied by the faint peach-like scent of her arousal. Her hips bucked involuntarily. She gasped, eyes widening in heavenly sensation.
I positioned myself and shoved my length inside. It took a moment to clear her tight entrance, but once past the resistance, I slid in fully. I moved with control—sometimes slow and deep, letting her catch her breath, sometimes faster, driving her higher. She could only feel waves of bliss, her body surrendering completely.
Yet I felt it too. A strange, vivid gladness at being alive again. Pleasure coursed through me, raw and real, reminding me that even in this cruel world of luck and betrayal, sensation still mattered.
The female elders watched me with open envy, their gazes lingering on my technique far beyond what a sixteen-year-old should possess. The male elders narrowed their eyes, seeing something lustful and dangerous in my movements—talent that did not belong to an orphaned boy.
Twenty minutes passed in rhythmic intensity. Finally, at the peak of pleasure, I released—not into her womb, but into an entirely different organ, the hidden aperture itself. Essence flooded the gateway.
In that instant, something inside me cracked open.
Qi surged like a river breaking its dam. My aperture awakened fully, brilliant and stable, perfectly harmonized with the iron foundation the death luck grass had forged.
Lira collapsed against me, breathless, her eyes glazed with lingering ecstasy.
I stood there, violet eyes gleaming, blue hair catching the mountain light.
The ceremony was complete.
My cultivation journey had truly begun—not with comrades, not with loneliness, but with the first thread of a new, far more dangerous game.
And I, who had once been Flick, smiled inwardly.
This world of Eryndor, with its seven regions and painted fates, had no idea what it had just invited in.