Cultivation Chaos: Superheroes In The Realm Of Immorals

Deep beneath the ever-winding tunnels of the Seekers' maze-like hideout lay a special room.

This was the research lab of the Dean of the Southern Wastelands Seeker branch — Lu Ming, the Bloodline Dictator.

An accomplished scholar in the studies of genetic manipulation and biological augmentation, his genius was known both at home and abroad. He was even recognized in the immortal realms for one of his most infamous creations — the Dragon Legions. That particular abomination was one of the reasons his name resounded across the five continents.

Crash!

A series of clatters and shattering glass rang out, followed by a furious frustrated bellow. "ANOTHER FAILURE!!!"

A middle-aged man stood there, face twisted in rage, hands clamping his ragged hair. His face was rough, an unkempt stubble germinating along his chin. Sunken eyes, ringed with black bags, screamed of sleepless nights. Fatigue and stress had carved deep wrinkles into his skin, leaving it sagged and rough.

Unlike the majestic, solemn presence one might expect from someone of his reputation, Lu Ming's presence was more akin to that of an introverted inventor locked in his basement for far too long. In short — mundane. Which was to be expected; unlike other factions, the Seekers were not cultivators, and their ranks were mostly filled with mortal humans.

"What went wrong?" "Where did I go wrong?" "The structure was stable and feasible… but the moment it's implemented on a living organism, it breaks down… why?"

Lu Ming's fervent whispers echoed as he scratched his head furiously, frustration gnawing at him.

Contrary to what others might assume, Lu Ming had never been satisfied with his works — in fact, they repulsed him. From the Dragon Legion to even the legendary Demigods that shook the realm of Tianxue Jingjie, none met his standard for what he called the perfect life.

Lu Ming was a genius — but also a madman. All his accomplishments in genetics and biological augmentation were driven by his crazed desire to create the perfect organism: one that could live eternally, evolve infinitely to survive any circumstance, a creature that would trample the so-called divinities and immortals. That was his goal.

Was it mad? Yes. Was it feasible? According to his calculations and structural layouts over the years — yes.

But he kept hitting the same wall. Any time a genetic property was grafted according to his design, it worked flawlessly in theory. The genetic protein would be the most resilient material in the realm, boasting limitless evolutionary potential — able to adapt to flames, the sea, the void, poison… anything.

Except life itself.

The moment it was transplanted into a living organism, the subject died. It was as though the material could withstand anything — except the act of living.

After throwing his usual five-minute tantrum, Lu Ming accepted the result as always and began documenting the process. This was his 194,467,834,023rd attempt — and still, his failure streak remained unbroken, like a chasm he couldn't seem to cross.

Creak!

The door opened. As usual, an attendant entered with a cart full of blood sacks. As usual, the attendant tried speaking to him — and as usual, Lu Ming didn't register their existence. After delivering the supplies, the attendant bowed and left, leaving him alone with his project. Not that he cared.

After documenting the process, he moved to the new supply of genetic samples. His eyes glinted with resolve as he grabbed a pack of blood. He knew he couldn't keep walking the same path. Since careful calculation and analysis had failed, it was time to brute-force the research.

Sitting back at his bench, he began working — this time forcefully restructuring the genetic code of living organisms (rats).

And, without suspense, he failed. He frowned but held back his frustration, trying another route along the same path.

Failure. Another failure.

Minutes turned into hours. Hours into days.

Finally, only one blood bag remained. He sighed in dismay, the heavy weight of fatigue pressing on his eyelids. It took great effort to keep them open. Let me finish this, he told himself, his resolution to see it to the end trumped his fatigue.

His trembling hands took hold of the last blood bag.

If he'd been in his right mind, he would have noticed that unlike the others, this one's contents were different. The blood glistened with a crystalline, sanguine hue, giving it a mystical aura. At first glance, it looked like the rest — but on closer inspection, there was a faint ethereal glow, and the liquid swirled in a subtle, almost sentient motion.

Lu Ming's dull eyes and sluggish movements still carried the precision of an expert. Only halfway through the work did he realize he was working on a hawk he'd kept caged long ago, instead of a mouse.

He shook his head with a wry smile. Ah… stage 3 insomnia, I see. But even then, he didn't stop. Bird or mouse — they were both living beings. If one succeeded, the other would too. Right?

Hours passed. He was slower than usual, the overwhelming fatigue dragging at his mind impeding his speed. But eventually, he finished.

His hands collapsed onto the bench in exhaustion as he stared, half-lidded, at the hawk's body. It convulsed violently, like a patient in the throes of a seizure.

A self-mocking smile tugged at his lips. Another failure… as expected. He gazed at the now-limp bird. This was the usual pattern — an epileptic seizure followed by immediate death.

His eyes began to close, his mind ready to embrace long-awaited sleep, when suddenly—

Twitch!

The hawk's wings moved. Slightly — but enough to banish the encroaching slumber.

Lu Ming stared, eyes widening as the hawk began to change.

Its brown feathers fell away, replaced by pale silver plumage. Its once-lusterless brown pupils dilated into sapphire blue. Its figure grew majestic and noble, shedding the mundane features of its species.

Lu Ming stood agape and speechless as what he had assumed was a failure came back to life — rising from the ashes to stare him in the eye.