Chapter 31: Return to the Xianxia Version

Two versions he had never seen before!

Lu Yan’s heart trembled as he immediately began carefully reading the descriptions of the new versions. As for the mere 0.2% version mutation rate, he completely ignored it.

At first glance, the Martial God Version seemed like a world rooted in martial cultivation. But the line that followed its name tipped him off—this so-called “Martial God” was most likely referring to the Magnetic Field Martial Gods.

The magnetic field martial arts system had an incredibly high ceiling, and there were even many methods to quickly boost one’s combat power. If Lu Yan could acquire such cultivation techniques, it would greatly enhance his strength.

However… the ones who practiced magnetic field martial arts were basically all lunatics!

Once those Martial Gods got into a fight, they could easily drag dozens of bystanders to their deaths in a heartbeat.

Even if Lu Yan chose to lie low in the Martial God Version, he might still get obliterated by some madman just passing by. The danger level wasn’t far off from the Cryptic or Horror Story Versions.

Just imagining the chaos that might come from provoking a bald, crazy-headed brute made a chill run down Lu Yan’s spine. He quickly shifted his attention to the other option—the VR Game Version.

Truth be told, Lu Yan was quite intrigued by the idea of a virtual reality game version.

In his mind, as long as it wasn’t one of those “die once and your life is over” death game types, most VR game versions at least wouldn’t pose any massive threats.

The only concern was the year 2077. That particular number gave him an ominous feeling.

The types of VR game versions were far too numerous—and far too unpredictable.

On the high end, there were interstellar VR games that connected directly to spacefaring civilizations, fantasy games that allowed players to cross into another world through the game, or multiverse lord games where one could establish territories and ascend to godhood.

These kinds of VR games had the potential to influence the real world, and any one of them could be even more valuable than the zombie apocalypse version.

But the lower limit… was also abyssal.

Brain-in-a-vat cyberpunk power plant simulators, Fourth Calamity games where players were manipulated into working for hidden masterminds, and death games hand-crafted by the infamous sadist Miyazaki himself…

Forget playing the game—you’d be lucky not to get played by it.

Of course, excluding those extreme cases, the most common type was still your standard virtual game.

These were just regular virtual entertainment games with no interaction with reality. Even if you looted top-tier gear in-game, it could only be traded for currency—not of much use to someone like Lu Yan.

If he weren’t facing the pressure of a version update, he might’ve considered taking a gamble on the VR Game Version.

With good luck, he could rise to the top instantly. With average luck, it’d just be a short vacation. With bad luck… he could always quit early and hide until the version ended.

But right now, Lu Yan didn’t have the luxury to gamble.

His cultivation foundation was rooted in the Xianxia Version—from the basic spells used by cultivators, to the secrets behind the Red Lotus Karma Fire Sutra, to the pills and spirit stones used in auxiliary cultivation. These were all things he urgently needed.

As more versions continued to appear, the chances of reencountering a specific version would only become lower and lower. Lu Yan had no idea when he’d see the Xianxia Version again if he passed it up now.

The Xianxia Version might not offer a shortcut to instant godhood, but it was undoubtedly the most reliable choice.

With this thought, Lu Yan made his decision without hesitation.

“Update: Xianxia Version!”

In an instant, the world froze.

Then, the skyscrapers before his eyes collapsed like a pile of blocks, as if tens of thousands of years had passed in a single breath.

When the transformation ended, Lu Yan found himself standing in a desolate wilderness.

The ever-present stench of rot from the apocalypse was gone. Towering trees filled the forest, offering clean, fresh air to all living beings. As he took a deep breath, Lu Yan instinctively felt… a little unaccustomed.

He looked around cautiously. The first thing he did was store the Hundred Soul Banner back into his storage pouch. Then, he changed into a long cyan robe of traditional design—an outfit he had prepared way back during the Urban Version.

This wasn’t some deserted apocalypse anymore. He couldn’t just freely wave around the Hundred Soul Banner and refine souls in public.

Soul banners were taboo in orthodox sects. If he exposed the artifact carelessly, he’d surely face a crusade from the righteous path.

Even the demonic path cultivators didn’t dare to openly use soul banners. They operated in secret.

“In the apocalypse, zombies were completely countered by ghosts and the Hundred Soul Banner. Aside from their own Transcendent abilities, they had no way to resist spirits.

But in the Xianxia Version, even Qi Refining cultivators without divine sense can still use spiritual perception to sense ghosts. With spells and artifacts, they can easily injure or disperse them.

Under such conditions, I must use the Hundred Soul Banner with extreme caution.

Unless absolutely necessary, I shouldn’t use it at all. And if I do… I must kill every last witness to prevent word of the banner from spreading.”

Lu Yan made a firm mental note.

Even though the Hundred Soul Banner was restricted here, it was still a trump card that let him fight against Foundation Establishment cultivators while still in the Qi Refining realm. It was a vital safety net.

After all, Foundation Establishment cultivators were considered major figures. Most wandering cultivators in the Xianxia world were still stuck at the Qi Refining stage. Those who managed to break through either joined powerful sects or founded their own cultivation clans.

As long as he kept a low profile and didn’t provoke any major powers, Lu Yan wouldn’t need to worry about being exposed.

On the surface, he was just a Qi Refining Third Layer cultivator. No Foundation Establishment expert would bother investigating someone so insignificant.

He retrieved a First-Grade Low-Grade Flight Talisman from his pouch and took to the skies to survey the terrain.

Each version had different geography, and even returning to the same version didn’t guarantee that the map would remain unchanged.

As soon as Lu Yan rose into the air, he noticed that this wasn’t the familiar bamboo forest market region.

There were no cities within dozens of miles.

Unable to find any passersby to ask for directions, he pulled out a Low-Grade Spirit-Seeking Talisman.

Once activated, the talisman turned into a golden light, guiding him toward the nearest spiritual vein.

This was a special type of directional talisman capable of locating nearby spiritual veins and pointing the way. Most such places were occupied by sects, clans, or cultivation markets. It was a handy way to find civilization.

He flew for over half an hour, burning through two flight talismans before finally arriving at a mountain valley.

At the valley entrance, a Mist Formation had been carved into the terrain. Ordinary folk wouldn’t be able to pass through, but cultivators could easily see through the illusion with spiritual power.

At the center of the mist, carved upon a massive boulder, were four large characters:

Qinggu Market!

Lu Yan’s brows lifted slightly in surprise.

Although he’d never personally visited this place, he had heard of Qinggu Market before. It was one of the marketplaces overseen by Fairy Zhuoyu, located roughly 200 li away from his usual haunt, the Bamboo Forest Market.

Qinggu Market’s spiritual vein was of higher quality than that of Bamboo Forest, so its scale and population were also larger.

With some curiosity, Lu Yan stepped into the market.

(End of Chapter)