Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Your Reborn Mom Is Here!

“Holy shit—spirit roots?”

“Bro, we’re really about to cultivate!”

“I’ve waited for this day my whole life. Even if I die, I’ll die in this game!”

The players erupted like a lit fuse.

Cultivation.

The dream carved into the bones of every person from China.

Soaring through the skies. Diving into the earth. Seeing every mountain and river in the world with your own eyes.

Who wouldn’t want that?

The moment they heard they could cultivate, even the hoes in their hands swung with extra force, as if chopping wood faster would make the pills arrive sooner.

But the line “the stronger your will, the stronger your spirit roots” also sent a chill through the crowd.

Would it judge their faces?

Weren’t they supposed to start equally?

Song Jiu Lai had the same question. “Spirit root talent… players can differ too?”

The System replied, “Of course. Why do you think most people in this world are ordinary? Giving players spirit roots is already defying heaven—”

It cut itself off, then changed tone abruptly. “It’s fate. I can’t help it. Some people are talented. Some people are destined to be weak.”

Song Jiu Lai rubbed her chin. “Then why is my spirit root white, and you said it didn’t matter?”

On Yun Zhou Continent, spirit roots didn’t follow traditional five-element rules. As long as you stepped onto the path, most cultivation arts could be practiced—if your talent could handle it.

Spirit-root talent determined the upper limit of your cultivation speed.

Talent was tested with a Spirit Appraisal Stone.

The Spirit Appraisal Stone wasn’t useful for much; it only reacted to spirit roots. Touch it once, and you’d know. Longevity Sect had one.

The lighter the color, the weaker the talent.

White was the most ordinary cultivator. Blue was average. Purple was good—good enough to attract a major sect’s attention. Orange was good enough to become a closed-door disciple in a major sect.

And gold?

Gold was the true jackpot. Legendary supreme spirit roots.

Heaven’s chosen.

Discovered at birth, hidden away, cultivated in secrecy.

They didn’t end up wandering around in the wild.

If you weren’t born with spirit roots, you never had them. Not for a day in your life.

The System said, “You’re different. You’re bound to me. My energy is at zero, so your talent is naturally the worst. I tried.”

Song Jiu Lai went silent for a beat.

Then she shrugged. “That’s still fine.”

She’d been given a second life. A new world. A chance to cultivate. What more could she want?

The System said, “Sometimes, choice matters. Think about it—if the people you bring in have no talent and love causing trouble, won’t your life be over?”

“…True,” Song Jiu Lai admitted.

People died for real here.

Aside from the System—her only cheat—she had no guarantee, no protection, no backing.

Early on, lying low was the best strategy.

She wanted the players to roll high talent. She wanted a few of them to be monsters who could carry her.

Her own talent wasn’t determined by the players. As long as she completed the System’s tasks, the System would grow strong enough to shield her. Even if the players became powerful enough to open a path between worlds and someone developed bad intentions, she would still have a last card to play.

She was doing this because the System needed it.

This second life was a gift snatched from fate, and she treated it as a rare encounter.

Still, she couldn’t be too weak. She was the Sect Master. She had to stand tall.

So she had to cultivate.

Hard.

Song Jiu Lai murmured under her breath, “I hope they’re talented… but I hope they don’t get too try-hard…”

Otherwise, if the Sect Master was still in Qi Refining Stage while someone else reached Foundation Establishment Stage, wouldn’t that be humiliating?

The System said, “Relax. They can’t see your real level. At minimum, you can keep pretending to be a master in front of them.”

Song Jiu Lai didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the distance, voices rose in excited chaos. The players couldn’t hold back anymore. They dragged back uneven stacks of wood, chopped crookedly and carelessly, as if the act itself had been a placeholder until the real prize arrived.

Forget building houses. Tonight, it looked like they’d be cramming into the courtyard.

They could log off to rest, technically.

But nobody wanted to.

A Wu also returned, leading the five he’d selected. They’d identified several common spirit herbs on Yun Zhou Continent.

If they wanted more income, tomorrow they’d need to go to Flying Sparrow Sect and buy more seedlings to cultivate.

Cultivating spirit herbs required spiritual energy. Before, A Wu had managed two small plots alone. Now he had manpower.

Why not make it twenty?

Dinner was served in A Wu’s courtyard. His room sat beside the kitchen, and Song Jiu Lai left the buns there to warm.

The steamed buns here were huge and plump. Grain grown in spirit-rich soil produced absurd harvests—better, even, than modern China.

Each person got two buns, each almost the size of their face.

A Wu and Song Jiu Lai ate meat buns separately. She was the Sect Master. She had the right to eat better.

The players crowded around the wooden hut, squatting on the ground, chewing buns, talking over each other.

“Holy shit, even taste is modeled. This bun is amazing.”

“It’s a little dry—didn’t ferment enough.”

“Dip it in condensed milk and it’s heaven.”

“Condensed milk? Buns need soybean paste.”

“What are you talking about? Chocolate spread is better.”

“Heretic—get out of Yun Zhou Continent!”

Even the lone wolves were pulled into the warmth of the group. Names spread, laughter rose, and the courtyard felt less like a spawn point and more like a camp.

Zhou Xiao craned her neck. “When do we get to see my mom?”

Han Tian said, “After we finish eating.”

Earlier, they’d run their experiment. Aside from unfamiliar plants and the ridiculous fertility of the soil, material reactions here matched reality.

Meaning they could apply modern techniques here.

Build better houses.

Open farmland.

Improve tools.

Senior Brother A Wu, a cultivator, still needed food—and his appetite was frightening. He ate three meat buns bigger than his face and still looked hungry.

Then he cooked himself a bowl of noodles.

At least in the early stage, food wasn’t optional. Fifty people was already a lot—what if more slots opened later?

Han Tian’s conclusion was simple: Longevity Sect was poor. It couldn’t feed them long without income.

And that meant the sect would have to grow fast.

Han Tian chewed his bun and spoke like he was outlining a plan on a whiteboard. “After spirit-root awakening, we’ll probably get to choose task paths. We have Flying Sparrow Sect above us. A Wu said they refine artifacts, which means other sect types probably exist too. Alchemy sects, maybe more. We don’t specialize, so we’re the kind of ordinary sect that can dabble in anything.”

He continued, “Main quests will likely push development directions, and personal choices might matter. But for the sect as a whole, our priority is clear: make money, keep the sect running, cover daily costs. Senior Brother said there’s a mortal county town down the mountain. Tomorrow I want Senior Brother to take me down to observe it in person.”

Zhou Xiao’s eyes lit up. “Take me too.”

Wu Da Hu nodded without thinking. “Take me too.”

A voice cut in from the side, calm and firm. “Take me too.”

They turned.

It was one of the lone wolves.

Han Tian recognized him. When he’d entered the game, he hadn’t gone screaming around like the others. He’d been shocked, sure, but he’d recovered fast. During the chopping, he’d disappeared alone for a long stretch.

His game ID was Jiang Ya.

Han Tian nodded. “Fine.”

Then he added, quietly, with a weight that made the air tighten, “If the mortal town down the mountain is fully modeled too… then this game will drive the world insane.”

Wu Da Hu burst out laughing. “The punks in the group chat were looking down on this game, refusing to fill in the info, saying they’d wait for feedback. Now they must be regretting it so hard their intestines are turning green—”

Right then, another notification struck every mind at once:

[System: Players, please gather at the spawn point. The Sect Master is waiting for you.]

The moment it landed, the entire courtyard snapped to attention.

Their reborn mom was finally here.