Cultivation Chaos: Superheroes In The Realm Of Immorals

Right in a small, dilapidated urban village, completely fenced with treesized logs of wood, the entire place felt solemn and eerily silent.

The lively chants and vibrant laughter of children were nowhere to be found. The streets were nearly empty, with only a few people wandering about — their eyes vacant and glossy.

The air was musky and chilly, the entire atmosphere wrong in a way that made the skin crawl. Even the sun's brilliance seemed to dim when breaching its borders.

But strangely enough, right before the wooden gates, a long queue of people stood. In contrast to the lifeless inhabitants of the village, these people were noticeably different.

Their sharp, vibrant auras could be felt, and their eyes were filled with vigor, curiosity, and — in some cases — caution.

At the very front of the crowd, a person was allowed inside. It was finally the turn of another — a man dressed in a dark hooded cloak. Due to the almost colorless surroundings, the shadows draped over his features concealed them, but they failed to hide a pair of sapphireblue orbs that pierced effortlessly through the thin veil of shadow, meeting the gaze of the guards.

"Are you here for trading… or as a tourist to… see the Hybrid Valley…" the guard spoke. His voice and expression felt off — as though his speech, stern expression, and entire demeanor were animated, lacking any human warmth or life.

The cloaked figure didn't seem to care. His reply was cold. "Tourist…"

The guard nodded slowly, stretching out his extremely pale, almost gray hands. "That… would be ten… gold coins."

The figure reached into his robes, fiddled for a moment, and brought out the required sum, handing it to the guard. Though he barely made contact, he could feel the sinister chill radiating from the man's skin… just like that of a corpse.

The guard placed the coins into a side ballot with practiced ease and reached for a wooden token. Subject 0861 — these creepy words were inscribed upon it.

The guard's arm stretched out, handing it to the cloaked figure.

On seeing the words, the cloaked figure hesitated, his hand wavering. This is just getting creepier and creepier, Spark lamented inwardly with a grimace.

Everything about this socalled Hybrid Valley felt wrong. For starters, how the hell was this a Valley?

It was clearly a remote village. He might have started doubting the claims of its "creations" being real, but seeing the restless crowd behind him waiting their turn to enter, he couldn't help but think twice.

They couldn't fool this many people… right?

Making up his mind, he took the token. It's not like I have a choice. I journeyed for nine days just to get here… I have to at least check it out, right? he consoled himself, crossing the gates and going against his restless instincts.

First, I need food… Spark thought as he navigated the village. Though he had food, his cooking skills were terrible, and he'd made the stupid mistake of not collecting spices from Cai'er.

All he had on him was a bunch of hard bread, a few pounds of rice, and some milk.

The past nine days had been spent eating either hardtochew bread or bland rice. The only good thing was the milk — which, by now, he'd had so much of that he felt he'd get sick if he caught a whiff of it again.

After walking through the eerie, empty streets for a while, he found a conspicuous place — a bar.

Unlike the deadly atmosphere in the rest of the village, the bar was noticeably different. Loud cheers and rowdy laughter spilled out from within. In such a deadsilent area, the place was bursting with life.

Tourists Bar.

Reading the plaque on the door, he understood why.

He stepped into the wooden building as a strong smell of alcohol and fresh food overwhelmed his nostrils.

His eyes moistened as he held back tears of happiness. Finally, good food! he moaned in longing.

Actually, with his ability, Spark didn't have to eat — but the act of eating was ingrained into his being. Going days without it made him feel uncomfortable.

He reached the counter in front of the bartender and, in a highpitched voice, ordered, "Get me some food — anything tasty! And the best drinks you have."

The bartender — a masculine, middleaged lady, short in height with dirtyblonde hair draped over her shoulders — nodded at Spark. Her ears twitched; she could hear him clearly despite the rowdy atmosphere.

Within minutes, a delicate meal arrived: chicken broth with rice and large chunks of meat. The refreshing scent drifted into his nostrils, making him drool.

Beside it sat a huge mug of beer — golden in color, thick in texture, and smelling of honey and nectar.

He couldn't hold back anymore. He dove into his food, munching aggressively as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

His mind went blank, filled with one word: Tasty!

In truth, this meal wasn't as refined as the premium delicacies of Earth, but for a man who hadn't tasted flavor in days, his reaction was understandable. The drink, though — that was another story.

Sweet nectar of the gods!

That's what Spark dubbed it. Upon a sip, a flavorful fragrance burst in his mouth as the sweet, mild, yet spicy and at the same time cool liquid ran down his throat, tingling his spine.

It was so good he had goosebumps. Glancing at the bartender, who wore a proud expression at seeing his pleasure, he immediately asked for more — even though he wasn't done with the one before him.

Spark was over the moon as he enjoyed his delicacy in peace, drowning out the presence of the others around him… when suddenly, his ears perked up by instinct.

His arm shot out, capturing the stray projectile heading for his food. It was a plain metal ball, crackling with sharp volts of electricity. He fumed in anger. "Who?"

A young man quickly ran over, blushing. "Oh my! Very sorry — it was an accident, I swear!" the man pleaded, bowing sincerely and apologetically.

Spark frowned and simply tossed the metal ball back. "Be careful next time!" And with that, he went back to eating, completely ignoring the blisters and burns on the hand that had caught the ball.

The past nine days had widened Spark's horizons in this world, and he had long since come to understand that here, he wasn't as invulnerable as in his home world.

The forces wielded by the inhabitants of this world — even the mortals — were more than his ability alone could bear.