Godslayer: Reincarnated with SSS Rank Cultivation System-Chapter 187: Severing the Past
"You're not acting yourself today, Ran'er, are you alright?" Suddenly, his father's voice broke through the air as they neared the river.
"Yeah, just had some difficulties in my cultivation, but I found this rabbit here. I named her Xiao Mo." Wen Ran's gaze wandered over the flowing river. It was just as he remembered—small, the water flowing briskly, yet with a serene power that seemed to pulse through the earth itself. The current was strong, its rush steady and purposeful, and the crisp scent of purity hung thick in the air, like the smell of fresh rain on earth.
It felt strange to stare at this fatherly figure who no longer existed in this world—this man who had been part of his past, now only a distant memory, an illusion pulled from the depths of his mind. Yet, here he stood, alive and breathing, right in front of him. Wen Ran couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest, an ache that threatened to swallow him whole. This was a memory, one he had no choice but to relive. His hand tightened on Xiao Mo, grounding himself.
He knew all too well that this moment was a trial. Most likely, it was set up by Lian Zhen. But for what purpose? Was it a test of his resolve to grow, or was it a challenge to see if he was ready to let go of the past? Or would he remain shackled by it, forever unable to move forward? The question hung in the air, distant and evasive, like a shadow he couldn't quite grasp.
What is the point of this? he thought, the bitterness creeping up in his chest. He should know by now that I'm not weak enough to fall for a mere illusion.
"If you ever find yourself lost on your path, remember your roots. Remember where you came from, like this river, for example."
"If you ever find yourself lost on your path, remember your roots. Remember where you came from, like this river, for example."
Wen Ran's gaze followed his father as he squatted down by the riverbank, cupping his hands to scoop up a handful of water. The flow was calm yet purposeful, each ripple a reminder of something deeper.
"The water does not stay in the same place. It never originates from the river itself; it falls from the mountains, or deep underground, just like your spiritual energy," his father continued, his voice steady, the kind of wisdom that seemed to echo from ancient times. "It does not come from within your body. You must absorb it from the surroundings. But remember, you must be patient. Each detail, every small thing, has its own purpose. If you ever find yourself stuck, try to go around the obstacle that blocks your way."
His father's finger traced the curve in the river, the water meandering in a gentle arc. "See? The river never runs straight. It always finds its path, one way or another. Whether it leads to a lake, a sea, or an ocean, it will find its way. Your path, too, is like this. There are no shortcuts, only the long road to supremacy."
The words carried an ancient wisdom, a philosophy that seemed to resonate with the flow of time itself. But for Wen Ran, standing there, they felt hollow. He remembered how he had followed these teachings before, how he had trusted his father's guidance and ultimately ended up broken, the philosophy nothing more than a fool's comfort. It was not about patience, about finding some indirect way around obstacles. No, his current self, shaped by the harshness of death and rebirth, knew better.
The path to supremacy isn't about waiting for the universe to lead you there, he thought bitterly. It's about forcing your way through, breaking down every wall that stands before you, and rebuilding them in your own image. I won't walk around the obstacles—I will crush them and carve my own road forward.
Wen Ran's vision sharpened as he looked at the river, its winding path no longer a lesson to be followed but an image of something to be conquered. There were no more gentle meanderings for him. His path would be as relentless and straight as he chose it to be.
"I understand, father. Now, I am certain of the path I must walk," Wen Ran said, his voice steady, his lips curling into a soft yet resolute smile. He stood just behind the figure of his father, his heart knowing all too well that this was not reality — it was but a vision, an illusion designed to break him mentally, to force him back into the shackles of the past. But he had chosen his own path, a path of slaughter and desire, a path where he would seize what he wanted. And if anyone dared to stand in his way...
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Squelch.
The sharp, wet sound of a crimson sword tearing through flesh cut through the stillness of the river's edge, shattering the quiet serenity of nature. Wen Ran's sword drove deep into his father's back, piercing his heart with unrelenting precision. He stood unmoving, watching the blood pool and flow into the river, carried away by the stream, as if it were nothing more than an insignificant trickle.
"W-why?" His father gasped for breath, his voice thick with confusion and pain. His eyes, wide with disbelief, searched his son for an answer, trying to understand where everything had gone wrong. What had he done to deserve such a fate?
"Sorry, father," Wen Ran muttered coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. "But you are just a ghost, a relic of the past. Your philosophy, your teachings — they mean nothing in this world anymore. Only I remain." His crimson eyes glinted with an unsettling intensity as he locked his gaze on the dying man. His father, trembling and weak, turned his head to meet his son's eyes one last time. His hair, once pure and white, flowed like a river of snow, casting an ethereal glow that only served to make Wen Ran's already pale face appear even more demonic.
"You're no son of mine," his father gasped. "The Ran'er I knew would never raise a sword against his own family... No, you're no longer him. You... You're a failure, a shadow, a mere puppet, forever doomed to be hunted by the gods. You'll never know freedom."
Wen Ran's lips twisted into a dark smirk, his eyes glowing with bloodlust. "I knew there was something off about you," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You played your part well, but not well enough. Even if you were truly my father, I would have killed you just the same. And you're right," he continued, his words cutting like the sharpest blade. "I'm no longer the old Wen Ran. That man died long ago. Now, I am Demon Wen Ran — the one who will carve his way to the third heaven and bring it to ruin. No one, not in a million years, will stop me."
From the corner of his vision, Xiao Mo observed the scene, her small, blue rabbit eyes filled with an unspoken understanding. Her tiny body trembled with excitement, a shiver of exhilaration coursing through her as she watched the man she had silently adored. Deep down, she knew that this was his destiny — that he would achieve everything he promised. And she, the white demon rabbit, would stand by his side, tearing through demons and all who stood in their way. Yes, that path, that purpose, it felt right. It was exactly where she belonged.
He pulled the sword from his father's chest, the slick blade dripping with the blood of the man who had once given him life. Without hesitation, Wen Ran's sword swept horizontally, slicing through the thick neck with a sickening—crack—blood splattered in all directions, painting the river with a grotesque crimson hue. The head of the man he had once called father was severed cleanly, carried away by the current, drifting downstream like a forgotten relic.
Yet, despite the brutality of the act, no surge of spiritual energy flooded into him, no signs of power or enlightenment. The silence that followed only reinforced his belief that this was nothing more than a mere illusion, a mere test — a trial crafted to break him. His gaze remained unyielding as the world around him began to crack, the reality splintering like broken glass, shards of the familiar landscape tumbling into the void.
Darkness consumed them. The once serene river and surrounding nature crumbled into nothingness, replaced by an impenetrable blackness. But neither Wen Ran nor Xiao Mo flinched or showed any signs of fear. They stood firm, eyes fixed ahead, where a figure appeared in the distance. The man sat cross-legged in midair, floating effortlessly, surrounded by a golden aura of spiritual energy. His calm smile was cryptic, almost knowing, as if he had been expecting this moment all along.
"Very good, brother," Lian Zhen spoke, his voice smooth and almost amused. "You have done well. You've proven once again that he was not wrong about you, and that the system suits you best."
The use of "he" sent a ripple of unease through Wen Ran's heart. So, the one behind this system was someone he knew — or at least someone who wanted him to think so. Caution settled in his mind like a heavy fog, but his gaze remained locked on Lian Zhen. Something about this moment felt like a trap, a game he was yet to fully understand.
But then, as his thoughts raced, he felt something shift within him, a quiet stirring in the core of his being.
[Congratulations, you have successfully fused the first piece of the puzzle into your system…]
[Proceeding with evolution…]
