Ultimate Magus in Cultivation World

Golden motes lingered in the vast expanse of his Fortune Realm, circling the tome as if reluctant to let it rest. Tian Lei's gaze deepened, the faint glow of contemplation flickering in his pupils.

"The Key of Unification…" he whispered again. "Not a technique, not an inheritance. Something else. Something that even their fall could not erase."

At his will, the golden river of books parted, yet none answered him. The Fortune Realm itself was the oldest foundation of his existence, a mirror of truths that could not be deceived. If there was more, it would not lie in scattered fragments—it would be etched where only those with patience dared to look.

He returned to the tome. Page after page passed beneath his will, the records recounting brilliance and collapse, until he reached the very last leaf. There, written not in luminous script but in a hand plain and faint—as if deliberately hidden—was a single note.

"To whomever reads these words: know that our sect's greatest treasure is not technique nor inheritance. It is the Key of Unification. We glimpsed it, but could not hold it. If you seek it, then walk where we failed. Bear all daos as one, and perhaps the heavens will not cast you down."

The words pulsed faintly before dimming, as if they had waited eons for a reader. The moment he finished, his Fortune Realm trembled once, then stilled.

Tian Lei exhaled slowly, his face calm though his pulse throbbed faintly in his temples. "So the Key isn't something they forged… but something they witnessed. A principle. A truth beyond the dao."

For the first time in a long while, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Not excitement, but recognition—like a chess master seeing a move worth considering.

"Very well. If the Key of Unification is hidden in those ruins, I'll see it for myself. Not because I need it, but because I want to understand. Knowledge is a treasure no sect, no heaven, no dao can strip from me."

The stars of his Fortune Realm pulsed brighter in response, as if approving his intent.

He opened his eyes in the quiet of his chamber. Three days. That was all the time left before the seal opened.

"Hm. I've neglected my magic path for too long. Best to return to it and test it within the ruins," he murmured, settling into a cross-legged posture.

As he began cultivating along the Magus Path, a current of light surged from his core. One after another, arcane marks bloomed across his soul. The Magus Path—crowned by the legacy of the Magic King—was unlike other systems. Instead of condensing mere circles, these arcane marks etched themselves directly onto the soul, each mark purer and more stable than any foundation a mortal could forge.

For the next forty-eight hours, Tian Lei cultivated without pause, condensing mark after mark until he reached a total of twenty.

On the third day, he shifted his focus, turning from pure cultivation to study. The legacy of the Magic King unfolded before him—intricate formulas, spell structures, and runes woven from truths of heaven and earth. Quietly, Tian Lei began to learn new spells, each one engraving itself alongside the growing constellation of arcane marks within his soul.

The chamber grew heavy with silence, broken only by the faint resonance of runes weaving themselves into existence.

The first spell he inscribed was Mana Spear, a thrust of condensed arcane energy honed for precision and penetration. Simple in form, yet deadly in execution, it was a staple among battle magi.

Next came Binding Chains, glowing lines of glyphs that could coil around a target's body and spirit, weighing them down like shackles forged of pure will. It was not a killing art, but a restraint meant to tilt battles in his favor.

He followed with Tri-Element Burst, a destructive surge born from weaving fire, wind, and lightning into one. Most practitioners would fail at balancing the clashing natures, but to him the flow settled as naturally as breathing.

Hours passed.

He etched Mirror Ward, a defensive shield that absorbed and rebounded force in equal measure.

Then Phantom Step, a swift movement art that left afterimages flickering like mist, allowing him to shift positions in the blink of an eye.

And Arc Slash, a condensed blade of energy loosed from a single gesture, cleaving stone as though it were paper.

Each inscription was absorbed, etched, and stabilized.

Each inscription was absorbed, etched, and stabilized.

But Tian Lei did not stop there. Once the framework of basic arts was firm, he began weaving the greater spells—the kind that demanded not only strength but control.

The first was Stormbreaker Lance, an evolved form of Mana Spear. Instead of a single thrust, it drew lightning into its core, crackling arcs running along the shaft of condensed mana. When released, it carried both piercing force and explosive discharge.

Then came Graviton Seal, a circle of runes that anchored itself into the air or ground, pulling all within its range downward as though chained to an unseen mountain. Against weaker foes it could pin them flat; against equals it disrupted rhythm and stance, a weapon of battlefield dominance.

Next was Dragonfire Wave, not a simple jet of flame but a sweeping surge of fire infused with his draconic qi, roaring outward like the breath of a wyrm. Its heat warped the stone walls, carving black scars where it passed.

He moved on, inscribing Aegis Dome, a defensive art far more stable than Mirror Ward. Where the Ward reflected, the Dome endured, layering runes into a half-sphere that could withstand a rain of blades or spells without shattering.

Another was Heavenstrike, a ranged technique that called a spear of condensed light from the sky, smashing down like judgment. It was not as nimble as Arc Slash, but the sheer impact left craters where it landed.

Finally, he carved Spatial Rend, the most delicate of them all. A focused edge of mana that slit open the air for a breath of time, its wound snapping shut with destructive recoil. Even he felt his soul strain as the runes locked into place, but the spell held, steady and sharp.

Hours blurred into days. By the time Tian Lei drew his hand away, a second lattice of light had formed alongside the first—another circle of ten powerful spells etched into his being. The glow of his soul was no longer faint; it blazed like a furnace, each spell a star in orbit around his core.

He exhaled slowly, steadying the power before it could overflow.

"These much would be enough" he mumbled as he stood up and came out as there was an servant waiting for him there" Senior disciple are you ready?"

Tian Lei nodded as the servant led him toward the place where Haiyun was waiting.

"You're ready, brat?" Haiyun asked with a faint smile. "The Myriad Sect ruins will not wait for us."

Tian Lei mounted his spirit crane, its wings shimmering faintly with runes, though he did not take flight yet. His gaze swept the courtyard. "What are we waiting for?"

"An elder from here will join us," Haiyun replied.

As he spoke, an aged man in flowing robes stepped into view. His presence was calm but carried a weight that pressed upon the air.

"You are ready?" the elder asked, his tone measured. He gave Haiyun a nod before turning to Tian Lei.

"This is Elder Lin," Haiyun introduced. "He is a Formation Master of the Mist Azure Dividing Lands. The Myriad Sect's legacy lies hidden within sealed formations—without him, we cannot open the secret realm or even step into the ruins."

"and not only him but other Divine Lands around here also are sending their formation master"

Elder Lin's eyes glimmered faintly as he extended his hand in greeting. "Let us depart. The ruins await."

Haiyun gave a short nod, and with that, the three prepared to leave for the Myriad Sect ruins.

The spirit crane spread its wings, a ripple of azure light cascading across its feathers as Tian Lei and Haiyun took their places upon its back. Elder Lin rose effortlessly into the air beside them, standing atop a thin array of symbols that appeared beneath his feet with every step—his mastery of formations carrying him as though the void itself were a bridge.

The group ascended, leaving the sect's courtyards behind. Clouds parted as the crane soared higher, revealing the endless expanse of the Mist Azure skies. Mountains rolled below them like the backs of slumbering dragons, rivers shone with spiritual radiance, and the winds hummed with the faint chorus of hidden beasts.

Haiyun tilted his head toward Tian Lei, his voice carrying over the rushing air. "The Myriad Sect ruins are half a month's journey from here, deep within the shrouded range. Even spirit beasts avoid that place—the lingering formations still warp space and time itself."

Tian Lei's gaze sharpened. "So it has remained sealed for countless years. No wonder the other Divine Lands would not ignore such a place."

Elder Lin gave a faint smile, his hands folded behind his back. "Indeed. This is no mere ruin. It was once the beating heart of a sect that dared to unify the heavens under its dao. The fact that it still breathes after its fall should tell you much."