Whoosh!


    The red wish bottle melted abruptly, pooling into Han’s sea of consciousness.


    A faint crimson glow spread across it, and visibly, the sea expanded. Beyond boosting his mental strength and fortifying his soul, Han felt his mental energy toughen under the surge—gaining a peculiar, elusive charm.


    Then, the bottle’s contents revealed themselves. Han stared, dumbfounded.


    A lumpy, irregular blob of clay?


    Wait, did they pack the wrong thing? This is totally Yun Duo’s vibe, not mine.


    Tianxing Province, Fang Family.


    The Fang family stood as the premier clan of Tianxing Province in Great Xia—a legacy tied to the empire’s founding. Their ancestor fought alongside Great Xia’s progenitor, earning unshakable trust from the imperial line. Every Fang patriarch since had served as the province’s governor, each ennobled as a duke or marquis.


    For generations, the Fangs reaped the bounty of this fertile land.


    Their estate sprawled over thousands of acres—an opulent maze of courtyards and gardens, exuding grandeur.


    In one unassuming corner, the servants’ quarters sat—plain compared to the rest. Inside a modest room, a red flash streaked in, merging with a lone occupant.


    A wiry youth, gender unclear at a glance, sat there. A large red birthmark marred their face. Strip that away, and their features were delicate—soft, likely female.


    The youth had been meditating on their future when the red light hit. A clear, resonant male voice filled their mind, unbroken and warm.


    “…Xiao Han…”


    “…That’s the spirit of a true man!”


    Then, cultivation arts flooded in—techniques they grasped instantly, no barriers.


    Alongside the voice and arts came a power, seeping into their body. Something hidden in that red glow dissolved unseen obstacles within them.


    Boom!


    A thunderous roar echoed in their head. A faint portal shimmered into view, cracking open slightly. Streams of light poured through, merging with them.


    Memories surfaced—Three Lives, Three Worlds Reincarnation Scripture, Unbreakable Heaven Technique—leaving their eyes dazed.


    “What’s this?” they murmured, bewildered by the sudden influx of mysterious skills.


    A painting appeared in their hand—a portrait of that same striking guy.


    “Are you the one helping me?” they asked, staring at Han’s image. No answer came.


    I’m just your pen pal—don’t get too attached.


    The portrait melted into their palm. Snapping to, they hesitated before skipping the Fang family’s Foundation Art. Instead, they tried the Unbreakable Heaven Technique.


    For some reason, it felt second nature—like they’d practiced it a thousand times. No struggle, no pain. Success.


    Ecstatic, they didn’t notice the red birthmark on their face shifting—fading, then reappearing, alive-like.


    “Better a beggar than a slave,” they repeated, a vortex swirling in their eyes as if it could devour the world.


    Their left hand clenched, gripping an invisible picture.


    The clay blob landed in Han’s palm, radiating an odd sensation. It felt more like an artifact than random muck.


    He probed it with mental energy, triggering a faint glow. Then it clicked—this was an artifact embryo.


    Crafting an artifact wasn’t simple. Gathering soul-infused materials and rare components was just the start. A cultivator skilled in True Fire or flame arts had to forge them—precise heat, neither too fierce nor too weak, testing their mastery. The materials then fused perfectly, shaped through relentless firing.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    But it wasn’t just about heat. Refining seals had to be etched in—unlocking the materials’ potential and harmonizing them. Even after shaping, the work continued: inscribing artifact patterns and mystical runes to imbue supernatural power. Only then, if all went flawlessly, did you get a true artifact.


    Compared to forging martial weapons, artifact crafting was pure mystique—fit for legends. Martial artists hammered steel with sweat; cultivators spat True Fire and called it a day. The former lacked that ethereal flair.


    This embryo Han got from the wish bottle? It had cleared all the prep stages—a marvel one step from completion. Nurture it with soul power, vitality, lunar force, and solar essence, then etch the runes, and it’d become a full-fledged artifact—Day Roamer tier, no less.


    The key step was engraving a cultivator’s visualization diagram as the runes, making it a natal artifact—perfectly attuned to its owner. It’d demand less energy to wield than other artifacts, yet pack a bigger punch.


    Even if someone else snagged it and mimicked Han’s visualization, they couldn’t unlock its full might. Plus, it could bear additional arts—like Han’s Earth Fire Seal runes.


    Best of all, it could evolve post-creation.


    Han had no clue what materials or methods birthed this embryo, but it had that rare potential. As his cultivation grew, its power would scale up. He could hunt higher-grade materials, refine their essence with True Fire, and feed it—letting it upgrade itself.


    No refining skills needed—just True Fire and basic essence extraction. Anyone could manage that; no finesse required—just burn it down to the good stuff.


    Normal artifacts, once done, were tough to enhance. Tacking extras onto a finished piece usually broke it before it improved. Learning this embryo’s perks, Han couldn’t put it down—thrilled to bits.


    With this, he’d never stress over lacking a handy artifact again. It’d evolve into his soul’s ideal match—form and function.


    Drift, you’re the best!


    Han refined it, shrinking it to a soybean size under his will. His soul swallowed it whole. Nurturing forces swarmed in, but he held off on the visualization etching, dashing to Lu Qingmo instead.


    “What now?” she asked, preempting him.


    “Aunt Mo, I was sorting my spatial pouch—checked all my artifacts. Barely use most of them. As my cultivation climbs, they’ll just gather dust. I’ll need new ones eventually. So, got a question.”


    A smooth excuse.


    “Is there an artifact that grows with a cultivator’s realm?”


    “You’re full of ideas,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, they exist—called natal artifacts.”


    Bingo. Drift’s gift fit the world’s rules.


    “But it’s not something you can have now,” she added.


    “Why? Super rare?”


    “Rarity’s part of it. Main thing? Only Yin God Venerables can forge their own.”


    “Huh? Why’s that?”


    Han was stumped—he was about to have one!


    “At Yin God realm, cultivators gain Divine Fire—unique to each,” Lu Qingmo explained. “Venerables gather divine materials, forge them with Divine Fire, etch natal divine runes, shape it, nurture it with Yin God power, and awaken its spirit with their divine essence. That’s a natal artifact. The divine essence binds it to them—coexisting exclusively. No one else can forge it for another.”


    “Below Yin God, your soul hasn’t transformed—no divine power, fire, or essence. You can’t craft a coexisting natal artifact solo. Even if a Saint-tier cultivator lucks into awakening an artifact’s spirit, it’s a divine artifact—not natal. Plenty of divine artifacts exist—evolved by chance or forged by Yin Gods without essence. They don’t grow with you.”


    Her rundown clarified it. His embryo was different, though. It wouldn’t birth a spirit but was tailor-made and upgradable—maybe a unique crafting quirk or pure cheat magic.


    Either way, snagging a natal artifact pre-Yin God was a massive win. It’d stay relevant up to—and beyond—that realm. Other cultivators scrambled for materials at Yin God; Han was cultivating his at Day Roamer.


    Ahead of the curve.


    And if Yin Gods got natal artifacts, and he had one… did that make him their equal?


    Feeling cocky now.


    “When you near Yin God, start prepping materials,” Lu Qingmo advised. “Natal artifacts outclass regular ones—crucial for cultivators. Some even surge in cultivation from their artifact’s feedback.”


    “Got it,” Han nodded, curiosity piqued. “If a Yin God’s natal artifact somehow became an immortal artifact, could it boost its owner near ascension?”


    “Theoretically, yes—but advancing a natal artifact is brutal,” she said, shaking her head. “Post-breakthrough, cultivators might spend years nurturing it to catch up. Ambitious ones hunt divine materials to beef up its foundation, aiming to outshine peers. Unless you start with legendary immortal-grade Sky Gold, you’re stuck grinding. That’d just need light nurturing—no foundation worries.”


    Sky Gold—immortal-tier stuff—sounded easy. But it was psychic, absurdly tough. A Yin God couldn’t subdue it if it fought back.


    “Stay grounded, take it step-by-step,” Lu Qingmo sighed. “Back in Jiaozhou, I chased a divine material perfect for my natal artifact. Got it, gathered everything I wanted for it—but I’ll never forge it now.”


    “You will someday,” Han consoled. “Next month, the Mountain God might see me. We’ll get word on the Heaven-Mending Vine.”


    She shook her head, silent. Hope was a flimsy thing.


    Checking the time, Han retreated to his room.


    The embryo soaked up energies, nurturing itself. Once full, he’d etch his visualization, and it’d be born. But he couldn’t focus—his cheat was about to refresh.


    Excitement buzzed in his chest.


    Then, that familiar rush hit:


    [Cheat refresh triggered. Refreshing…]


    [Last month’s cheat: Drift Wish Bottle]


    [Refresh in progress…]


    [Refresh complete]


    [This month’s cheat: Cauldron of Creation]


    [Fate Points: 7]


    A brand-new cheat!


    His soul’s big leap this month bumped his fate points to seven. Too bad the rerun draw wasn’t unlocked—those points were stuck gathering dust.


    Pain. Absolute pain.


    “Cauldron of Creation?” Han whispered, sensing treasure vibes.


    His soul homeland quivered. He thought wish bottle at first, then remembered it was gone.


    A jade-green cauldron emerged—sleek, fist-sized belly, narrow neck, wide mouth, curved spout, and arched handle. Etchings of earth, plants, birds, beasts, and fish adorned it.


    Han grasped it, feeling its tangible weight. He could pull it into the real world—the first physical cheat he’d refreshed.


    A solid artifact, unlike the others.


    Tree Brother was more a game dungeon.


    Let’s see what this cauldron’s cooking.