Chapter 70

Chapter 70: Setting Seventy

Setting Seventy: The Dao of Heaven is Unkind (Part 4)

Duan Xiuyuan.

Shan Ziwei silently repeated the infant’s new name. From now on, he and Duan Xiuyuan would be bound together.

Just then, Duan Yuan frowned slightly. He called Duan Yinchen over, exchanged the infants in their arms, and ordered her to leave quickly.

She dared not disobey, hurrying away with Duan Xiuyuan. Barely a moment after she left, several figures descended—led by an elderly man with an immortal air.

About to follow his partner, Shan Ziwei Reconnaissance’d the newcomers out of curiosity—and found the sect leader himself. Though only mid-Huashen, he was a Castle-rank Chess Piece!

He was stunned. When had his Reconnaissance become so effective? Or was it a bonus of his Heavenly Dao status?

Indeed, in his understanding, the Heavenly Dao was all-knowing and all-powerful. Though “all-powerful” might be a stretch for him, his growing authority should let him do more.

—Right—his partner’s upgrade had unlocked two new authorities.

He glanced at the situation: the sect leader had clearly been drawn by the Nine-Turn Golden Lotus. Duan Yuan, holding the female infant, gave a straightforward account—focusing on the lotus’s unexpected bloom, omitting everything related to Duan Xiuyuan.

Seeing Duan Yuan handling it well, he pulled the red thread and chased after Duan Xiuyuan. He’d learned to worry about his partner’s misfortunes, afraid something would go wrong in his absence.

In an instant, he arrived at a bedchamber—apparently Duan Yuan’s residence. The infant lay peacefully on the bed, while Duan Yinchen waited anxiously in the outer room for Duan Yuan’s return.

Taking the chance, he studied the new settings.

[Setting 4: Your “Timing” authority has been unlocked. You may use Opportunity Threads to seize chances.]

[Setting 5: Your “Karma” authority has been unlocked. You may use Fate Jade to write destinies.]

Like Setting 3’s “Weaving Fates,” the new authorities sounded impressive and came with new items: “Opportunity Threads” for seizing chances, and “Fate Jade” for writing destinies.

But he had neither. Did they fall from the sky like the karmic threads?

Wait—Fate Jade… jade?

He realized something. He grabbed Little Gaia and soon found what he was looking for—a round jade token, threaded with a bright red cord. The back was carved with yin-yang fish and Taoist symbols; the front had a hollow frame around a blank space, inviting additions.

This was Dragon Emperor’s drop. In other Chessboards, player deaths only dropped white chess pieces—but here, there was an extra jade token. This must be the Chessboard’s special item.

He Reconnaissance’d it—confirming it was the Fate Jade he needed.

[Fate Jade
Attribute: Diamond 10
Type: Special Item
Effect: Determine the lifelong fate of any target (limited to once per individual), or determine their temporary fortune.
Description: Wealth, honor, poverty, humility, longevity, early death—these are “fate.” Good fortune, misfortune, smoothness, adversity, gain, loss—these are “fortune.”]

He wanted to kneel. The Fate Jade’s power was terrifying—he belatedly realized how fearsome he was as the Heavenly Dao. He could now determine a person’s destiny!

Determining destiny! Destiny! That was insane!

—What is destiny? Destiny is “fate” and “fortune”—a metaphysical concept. Like most people, he knew of destiny but couldn’t easily define it. That vague understanding didn’t diminish its awe; in some ways, it defined a person’s life.

The Fate Jade in his hand felt heavy. He looked at the bed—the only person whose destiny he wanted to change lay curled up, weak and barely breathing.

—I will keep you alive.

The thought flickered through his heartstrings—born of sympathy for the weak, perhaps, or consideration for clearing the board. It grew quietly, like rain nourishing a seed.

—I will keep you alive—and let you live more freely than anyone in this world.

I—am the Heavenly Dao.

He raised his index finger and began writing on the Fate Jade.

The jade felt like stone, yet his finger could leave marks easily. He tried writing “Ascend Immortal”—but the moment he finished the last stroke of “ascend,” the entire character vanished.

—Not allowed?

He stared at the smooth, untouched jade—a small test. He couldn’t write freely on it.

Wealth, honor, poverty, humility, longevity, early death… these are “fate.”
Good fortune, misfortune, smoothness, adversity, gain, loss… these are “fortune.”

The Fate Jade’s description laid it all out. He could use “wealth, honor, poverty, humility, longevity, early death” to determine a person’s lifelong fate, or “good fortune, misfortune, smoothness, adversity, gain, loss” for temporary fortune. A person’s “fate” could only be changed once by the Fate Jade, but “fortune” could be changed multiple times—if he had enough jade.

Understanding the mechanics, he took a deep breath and wrote again.

Temporary fortune couldn’t guarantee anything. He wanted Duan Xiuyuan to live long and prosper.

He wrote stroke by stroke—each deeper, more deliberate than the last. He was writing Duan Xiuyuan’s fate.

Not “poverty,” not “humility”… no negatives at all. No need for “wealth” or “honor”—only one word remained that fit his wish…

A distinct “longevity” character appeared on the jade, fusing perfectly with it.

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Kneeling by the bed, he tied the jade token’s cord around the infant’s neck like a pendant.

The moment the knot closed, the jade began to glow—then transformed into a brush of light before it could become blinding. The brush, though clearly a writing implement, felt razor-sharp. It traced a forceful “longevity” character on the infant’s body—its fierce strokes even seemed to cut through the void, leaving a long trail across Duan Xiuyuan’s open palm.

He flinched and leaned in—only to find it was likely his imagination. There was no wound or mark on the palm. Still, perhaps due to suggestion, he felt the life line on Duan Xiuyuan’s palm had been stretched significantly longer.

In any case, the Fate Jade had taken effect. Duan Xiuyuan, now destined for “longevity,” shouldn’t be as fragile as before.

“Master secured, opportunities given, ‘longevity lock’ bestowed.” He rested his chin on the bed’s edge, staring at Duan Xiuyuan inches away. “This is the foundation I’ve built for you. Don’t let me down.”

The infant cried.

In that instant, his heart nearly stopped. His first thought: “Holy crap—I made my partner cry!” Then: wait! He was an undetectable Heavenly Dao—how could Duan Xiuyuan hear him?!

The tiny infant curled up, his body arching protectively. His small hand reached out weakly, as if trying to grasp something, but could only shift to his face, pressing against his eyes in grief. With the Golden Lotus seeds to fill the gaps, Duan Xiuyuan’s eyes looked normal—but he’d never opened them. Clear tears seeped through his closed lids, dampening the back of his hand. Even in tears, he made no sound—so quiet it broke the heart.

Shan Ziwei watched in silence. He could keep Duan Xiuyuan alive—but that child’s eyes were gone forever.

“Grandfather!”

Duan Yinchen’s surprised cry came from outside—Duan Yuan had returned. He handed the female infant back to her and strode into the inner chamber, lifting Duan Xiuyuan.

“I will enter seclusion starting today.” He instructed. “Bring me Fasting Pills and the Floating Silk Robe.”

Startled, she looked up. The Floating Silk Robe self-cleaned; Duan Yuan, a Huashen-stage cultivator, was already free of impurities and had long since abstained from food. These items weren’t for him—was he taking Duan Xiuyuan into the Star Chamber? That was Tianxuan Peak’s greatest spiritual gathering place! Her grandfather was far too invested in this child…

He took the pills she brought, wrapped the infant in the pure white robe, gave her a few more instructions, then carried him to his seclusion site. They went to a stone chamber at the back of the mountain; Duan Yuan passed through the barriers with practiced ease, unaware of the tail behind him.

Shan Ziwei looked around the seclusion chamber in awe. In his impression, seclusion spots were bare, primitive dark caves, maybe with a stone bed for meditation. But this—this surpassed all his expectations.

The vast chamber seemed hollowed out of half a mountain. Above, countless stars connected by lines formed a magnificent star chart. Beneath his feet, the floor wasn’t stone—it was a vast expanse of silver sand, flowing in delicate, rhythmic patterns. From afar, it looked like stepping on a nebula.

It was a scene beyond dreams. He’d never understood the appeal of “scenery” players—now he felt like becoming one himself.

Duan Yuan reached the chamber’s center, took a stone disc engraved with celestial patterns from his storage bag, and placed it in the silver sand—with Duan Xiuyuan on it. The sand beneath the disc rippled outward like water. When the ripples faded, shallow lines remained—like a child’s clumsy brushstrokes.

Shan Ziwei stepped back in shock. The marks looked random—but he knew they traced the red thread to his feet before sprawling chaotically, like thorny brambles trying to pierce and ensnare him.

“Foundation Establishment is only the beginning—you’ve already touched the edge of the Dao.” Duan Yuan guided the star chart from the void into Duan Xiuyuan’s brow. “This is the complete Starry Sky Scripture. You may cultivate here without distraction. Remember—only the Dao will keep you alive.”

He reiterated his philosophy, then placed the Fasting Pills within easy reach: “Eat these when hungry.”

He treated Duan Xiuyuan not as a helpless infant, but as a capable cultivator. With that calm instruction, he went to meditate on his own, leaving the baby to fend for himself.

Shan Ziwei: ??? What happened to being a model master? You teach him the Dao and nothing else!?

Fortunately, Duan Xiuyuan was bright enough. He slowly grasped a pill and put it in his mouth, then curled up. A faint glow enveloped him—he seemed to be cultivating already.

Shan Ziwei looked from the meditating Duan Yuan to the motionless Duan Xiuyuan—and found himself unemployed.

Ever since realizing this was a xianxia Chessboard, he’d had a concern. If you listed xianxia’s features, “long” would be one of them: long cultivation times, long leveling times, long lifespans. Look at the age gap between Duan Yuan and Duan Yinchen—cultivation times were measured in years or centuries. His five-day game time wouldn’t even scratch the surface!

There must be a solution. He didn’t know what other players did—the only time-related clue he had was the unusable “Timing” authority.

[Setting 4: Your “Timing” authority has been unlocked. You may use Opportunity Threads to seize chances.]

Opportunity Threads—where to find them? They seemed related to karmic threads—did he have to wait for them to fall from the sky?

There was nothing to do here. He went outside and stared at the sky. The “Heavenly Patterns” appeared under unclear conditions—random, perhaps, or on a schedule. He recalled the first and second appearances were about two hours apart; half an hour had passed since the last one.

He couldn’t be sure the patterns followed a time schedule. He started wandering the floating mountain, looking for other breakthroughs.

Through his observations, he learned the basics. This floating mountain was Tianxuan Peak, Duan Yuan’s domain. Ten-Thousand Sword Sect also had six other peaks: Tianshu, Tianji, Tianquan, Yuheng, Kaiyang, and Yaoguang. It was one of the Three Holy Lands of the cultivation world, and the foremost sword sect. Nearly all its cultivators were sword cultivators. In this Dharma-Ending Age, when Daoist arts were declining, sword cultivators—who emphasized body refinement—had the advantage over other cultivators of the same level. No one wanted to provoke a sword cultivator, and a sect full of them naturally acted as the leading Holy Land.

He’d also sorted out the cultivation levels: Kaiwu, Qi Refinement, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Huashen, Great Vehicle, and Tribulation Transcendence—eight stages. Except for Tribulation Transcendence, each had early, middle, and late sub-stages. Ordinary people entered Kaiwu upon finding a cultivation opportunity, but many remained stuck at Qi Refinement their whole lives. Foundation Establishment was one in ten thousand; Golden Core earned the title “True Person”; Nascent Soul allowed one to found a sect; Huashen made one a regional Venerable; Great Vehicle was nearly legendary; and Tribulation Transcendence to immortality—in the current era, no one had succeeded. It was almost a forgotten dream from ancient times.

Now he understood how shocking it was that Duan Xiuyuan had reached Foundation Establishment at one year old—and he silently patted himself on the back. He wanted to apply every protagonist template to Duan Xiuyuan. From past experience, he only unlocked new authorities when his partner broke through major stages—minor sub-stages didn’t count.

So give him more threads! He checked the time and looked skyward—even if not Opportunity Threads, karmic threads would do!

The heavens answered his call. Just as his eyes were growing tired, the familiar, mystical Heavenly Pattern appeared in the sky. He ran after the falling ribbons, grabbing them and immediately pulling the red thread to return—afraid of running into another player hunting for threads.

Under the starlight, he sat on the silver sand, slightly disappointed with the two threads in his hand—both karmic threads. Though he’d confirmed the patterns appeared every hour, he still hadn’t found an Opportunity Thread.

He handed the two threads to Little Gaia—his Toy Box spat out the previous karmic threads. Holding three threads in its tiny hands, it tilted its head and floated a speech bubble.

[Combine?]

He perked up: “You can combine them?”

Little Gaia nodded like a little squirrel and floated another bubble: [3 Karmic Threads = 1 Opportunity Thread]

So that’s how it works! And it’s expensive!

He glanced at the master and disciple, seemingly cultivating forever, and gritted his teeth: “Combine an Opportunity Thread!”

Little Gaia pushed up its long sleeves, revealing delicate little hands, and began weaving. Black-nailed fingers moved through white threads, blurring into ghostly patterns. Soon, it let a white cord fall into Shan Ziwei’s palm.

[Opportunity Thread
Attribute: Heart 10
Type: Special Item
Effect: Turn any target’s time into a two-dimensional view, marking opportunity points.
Description: It’s not that there’s no retribution—it’s that the time hasn’t come.]

The description confused him. He’d understand once he used it.

He walked to Duan Xiuyuan and tied the thread around him—noting that if these things never disappeared, Duan Xiuyuan would soon look like a wrapped dumpling.

Like the others, the thread activated upon tying.

Click.

He heard a sound like breaking glass. His pupils contracted—the scene before him cracked like a mirror from the thread’s point, shattering instantly.

He stood in a void, facing a single image. Behind it, he could see countless overlapping ghost images.

The image was simple: pure black, showing nothing.

—This was two-dimensional time?

More than the image’s content, its presentation—and the overlapping shadows behind it—felt strangely familiar. Thinking “no way,” he tentatively swiped his hand across it.

The image flipped to the next one.

—It really was just like swiping a tablet! =口=

He twitched. The new image was still black, so he swiped again. After dozens of swipes of unrelenting darkness, he noticed a pattern: the harder he swiped, the faster the images flipped. But unlike a tablet, he could only move forward, not backward. He discovered this when he accidentally swiped past an image that looked different—he tried to go back, but couldn’t.

His breath caught. He realized what these images represented.

They were time—every frame of Duan Xiuyuan’s time. That’s why they could only move forward, not backward—and why they were all black.

—Because Duan Xiuyuan could see nothing.

His fingertip, touching the black image, felt a sting. He sighed deeply. Perhaps the red thread binding them made him feel more sorrow than inconvenience at the child’s blindness. He continued flipping through the black frames, his movements gentler.

At one point, he came across another different image—still completely black, but with a knotted thread mark in the center.

This was the opportunity point marked by the Opportunity Thread? He remembered the image he’d accidentally skipped—it had looked the same. He’d missed a chance?

“Timing” referred to temporal conditions—also called opportunities. Was this marking a moment of opportunity for Duan Xiuyuan?

He decided to check it out. He pulled the red thread on his wrist.

The next second, he appeared in a grand hall. He was surrounded by people; he hurriedly pushed through them until he was at a safe distance—then looked for his partner.

Following the red thread to Duan Xiuyuan, this mastermind of a Heavenly Dao went completely still.