Elven cultivators

Upon entering the quiet room, Anton sat cross-legged and looked at the profound inner demon guide in his palm.

Without hesitation, he put the pill directly into his mouth, and it slid down his throat into his stomach.

The warm medicinal power rose from the stomach like a stream, seeped into the limbs and bones, and finally gathered at the ancestral aperture between the eyebrows, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, quickly spreading out.

Anton's consciousness began to waver.

First, my vision became blurry.

The soft light of the light source stone seemed to dissolve in water, spreading into hazy circles of light that shrouded everything around it in a misty haze.

Then comes the sound.

The sound of wind coming from the direction of the Eternal Tree.

The sound of metal clashing echoed from the training ground in the distance.

The chirping of birds in the honeybee tree outside the window.

All the sounds were fading away rapidly, as if someone had drawn a thick curtain between him and the world, isolating him from it.

Finally, it's about feeling.

The tactile sensation of sitting cross-legged disappeared, the friction of clothing disappeared, and even the flow of true energy within the body became distant and blurry.

He seemed to be falling downwards, passing through layer after layer of invisible barriers.

Each layer takes away a part of your consciousness, and you gradually sink into nothingness, leaving only an endless feeling of weightlessness.

After an unknown amount of time, the fall finally stopped.

The darkness receded, and light poured in.

:

At the same time, the sound of rain pattering down could be heard.

The moment Anton opened his eyes, icy raindrops pelted his face, slid down his cheeks, and seeped into his collar, bringing a chill to his bones.

He stood in front of a window.

Outside the window, leaden-gray clouds hung low like a curtain, purple lightning tore through the sky like dragons and snakes, and thunder rumbled, making the window frame tremble slightly.

Anton stood there blankly, his mind a complete mess.

Many images flashed by like a carousel, yet it was as if they were seen through frosted glass, making them impossible to see clearly.

He looked down at his hands.

Tall, fair-skinned, and still possessing the slenderness unique to youth.

These are his hands.

But why... does he always feel like something is missing?

Anton closed his eyes, trying to grasp at the fragments of memory that were slipping away.

There were figures, sounds, and images... but everything was blurry, like an old dream from too far away and too long ago.

When he opened his eyes again, the blurry fragments had completely disappeared.

At the same time, Anton finally remembered.

He is a time traveler.

He transmigrated into the world of "Dawn Chronicles," a globally popular MMORPG from his previous life, and became a thirteen-year-old elf boy in the Silvermoon Clan of Eldron Plains.

"This is the worst luck imaginable."

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Anton sighed.

Transmigrating into an elf sounds pretty good.

An immortal species, a darling of nature, with stunning good looks.

The problem is, this world is set against a backdrop of blood and fire.

In almost every version of the game, the continent of Dawn is ravaged by war and in constant turmoil.

For an ordinary elf with no special abilities and at most a bit of precognitive advantage, living in this kind of world is far too challenging.

"Without power, let alone controlling one's own destiny, it would be difficult to even survive."

An intense urgency for power welled up within Anton.

He didn't want to be like the countless ordinary people living on the Dawn Continent, passively accepting the disasters and despair brought by the torrent of fate.

The problem is that the elves of the Silvermoon Clan must be at least eighteen years old to begin training, and after selection, they are taught meditation or breathing techniques by an instructor.

He is only thirteen years old now, five years away from graduation.

"Five years..." Anton frowned. "Five years isn't too long. We can just wait."

He quickly adjusted his mindset.

In any case, knowing what the future holds is better than knowing nothing at all.

……

In the days that followed, Anton behaved as usual.

But in private, he started training on his own.

:

Although the clan rules stipulated that one could only begin cultivating at the age of eighteen, he still wanted to strengthen himself as early as possible, even if it was just by increasing his strength a little bit.

I finally turned eighteen and was ready to start training.

Anton did not hesitate to choose the spellcaster route.

But after actually getting to know him, he was disappointed to find that his magical talent was very mediocre, or even terrible.

Even his instructor, Darian, gently advised him to give up becoming a spellcaster.

Left with no other choice, Anton had to change his goal and train as a soldier with Roman.

The road to battle is equally difficult.

His warrior talent was slightly better than his magic talent, but it was only at an average level, far inferior to Roman's.

Time passed year after year.

Anton trained relentlessly, working far harder than his peers and putting in far more sweat and energy.

at the same time.

Every winter, the clan faces invasions from the lizardmen.

Anton stood on the training field, looking at the wounded and dead being carried back from the battlefield, and clenched his fists.

He can't do anything.

He's too weak; he doesn't even qualify to go to the battlefield.

All he could do was train even harder and push himself to the limit.

:

Through relentless and relentless training, Anton reached the Black Iron rank by the time of his coming-of-age ceremony.

Among her peers, she is considered quite outstanding.

However, compared to the exceptionally talented Roman, he paled in comparison.

On the day of his coming-of-age ceremony, Roman successfully passed the Windtalkers' Trial, becoming a prominent figure among the younger generation, standing shoulder to shoulder with Eleanor.

And Anton was just one of many witnesses to this trial.

But he did not give up. Instead, he joined the Forest Guard and continued to hone his skills.

Not long after, in the harsh winter, the lizardmen invaded again.

Anton participated in battle for the first time, gripping his longsword tightly and charging into the enemy ranks with his men.

After killing two lizardmen, he encountered a silver-rank dragon lizardman.

The opponent swatted him away with a single claw, leaving him severely injured and unable to fight.

If his comrades hadn't come to his rescue in time, he would have almost died on the battlefield.

Also during this war, Darian, who had taught Anton meditation, died at the hands of a gold-ranked dragon lizardman named Moloch.

Captain Elena said that the dragon lizardman is the designated next leader of the Molten Thorn tribe.

After a brief period of frustration and depression, Anton quickly rallied.

He devoted more time and energy to cultivation.

As time went by, the Molten Thorn tribe's offensives became more and more intense each year.

The Silvermoon Clan was forced to shrink their defenses.

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Even so, the blood loss caused by the war inevitably weakened the clan.

Anton's strength was slowly increasing, but the rate of increase seemed so powerless in the face of the brutal war.

The year was 9325 in the Dawn Calendar.

A large number of underground races suddenly emerged from the Thousand Rock Hills.

Kobolds, ogres, stoneblind barbarians... and even the terrifying Mind Flayers!

The Mind Flayer quickly led his army to attack Silvermoon Forest.

The already weakened Silvermoon Clan was no match for the underground army and suffered repeated defeats in the war.

The three elders, Cedric, and Elena all died in battle.

Eleanor, considered the clan's hope, also died from the Mind Flayer's Mind Blast.

The forest guard was defeated.

"Anton! Let's go!"

Roman's face was covered in blood, his battle axe was dulled, and most of his leather armor was torn to shreds.

But there was no fear on her face.

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Anton grabbed her hand. "Let's run away together!"

Roman pushed him away and said seriously, "You go first, I'll cover your retreat."

"You're talking nonsense!"

Anton tried to pull her, but couldn't budge her.

:

A Silver-rank warrior's strength is far beyond what a Black Iron-rank warrior can match.

However, even if the two wanted to escape, they couldn't.

An invisible spiritual energy swept over them, freezing them in place.

A high-ranking Gold-tier Mind Flayer pursued him, and a psionic spear pierced Roman's chest.

Her body swayed and then she fell down.

The battle axe slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a thud.

Anton stared blankly at the scene, as if something deep in his mind had been shattered.

Memories flooded back like a tide.

The Great Dao Jade Slip, the Primordial Return to the Source Technique, the Five Elements True Fire, the Star Luo Sword Scripture...

Anton remembered everything.

A voice suddenly resounded in his heart.

It was calm with a hint of sarcasm, yet it was clearly his own voice.

"So what if you're a time traveler?"

"Without the Great Dao Jade Slip, you are nothing."

"Everything you're so proud of—the cultivation techniques, the elixirs, the magical treasures… wasn't it all brought about by the jade slip?"

"If you're all alone, you can't do anything, you can't change anything."

The voice was like needles, piercing his heart one by one.

:

"Admit it, you've never been a genius, just a lucky guy who relies on external factors."

"You knew from the beginning that disaster would strike, but could you have stopped it?"

"You won't even live to see the day when the real upheaval comes."

"You are just a mediocre, incompetent time traveler who can't change anything."

Anton remained silent for a long time.

Ashes fell on his shoulders and hair, and on his clenched fists.

I don't know how much time passed.

It may be a moment, or it may be a lifetime.

Anton finally raised his head.

He looked into the void, into that non-existent "himself," and a slow smile appeared on his lips.

There was no anger or explanation in that smile, only a clear and calm demeanor.

"you're right."

"Everything I rely on comes from the jade slip."

His voice was hoarse, but very steady.

"But so what?"

"I have a jade slip; this is my destiny."

:

"Just as many people are born with noble bloodlines, and some are born with outstanding talents, the jade slip is also a part of me. Denying this is the real self-deception."

"The jade slip gave me a starting point far beyond that of ordinary people, but I have also paid countless efforts and sweat to achieve what I have today."

I admit that I am mediocre.

"But I don't need to prove my worth by saying that I can succeed without jade slips."

"All I need to do is prove that I deserve what I have."

The moment the words left his lips, the world shattered like a mirror.

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