A Writer's Transmigration With A System

A chase through space was occurring in a faraway place within the province, a place most cultivators would not even think of going to.

This time Li Jiwen was not the hunted. He was the hunter rather than the prey. He was now the predator.

This was exactly what he wanted to do now, understanding that he needed resources. Too many resources.

A cultivator of the Nascent Soul realm early stage was escaping through the air, firing different spells at the person following him. His voice was shrouded in fear and pain.

"Leave me alone, you demonic cultivator! You understand that if you truly continued doing this, the righteous sects will hunt you."

The man following him had a white long beard and pale skin. His voice was weak and old.

"Well, I am at the very end of my life, so I don’t care what you think or what you think the righteous sects would do. The righteous and the demonic are all the same thing. They just operate with different thoughts on how to steal from others and use others. So what the hell does anything mean if you are of the righteous sect or the demonic?"

The man said, "You’re insane. You should be hunted."

Li Jiwen finally moved his sword in front of him in an arc.

A blade of fire appeared, and with one movement it cut through space and appeared behind the man.

With one movement, it cut him in half.

Li Jiwen took the man’s body and the resources on him, then disappeared through the Void Step, not leaving even a trace.

He had done this for the past couple of months, and he got out unscathed, understanding that this was the way to go.

As he did so over the months, he had gained some understanding of how to fight and how to use his cultivation level, as well as the manuals he had acquired correctly.

With that knowledge, he began to implement different things.

The attack he had just launched was one of these things. It was named the Sun wheel.

Li Jiwen reappeared in his courtyard, having changed his looks before within the Void Step timer.

Finally, he sat on the porch again in his usual spot.

He looked around. The sky was empty as usual, and the sun was heatful, almost burning the ground.

He let out a long sigh, "Even though I have done this for three months now, I still do not have anything that even comes close to the things I already have from my novels. Truly, I was a genius. Sigh. But at least I have some combat experience now. I can fight on my own, at least."

Over the three months that had passed since his escape, he had fought more than 50 battles.

His experience in fighting had grown so fast that he would be called a prodigy even among prodigies.

But what does anything mean if he is just going to die in the very end and reset everything to the beginning?

He knew that this was going to be his own personal hell of some sort.

He later said, "At least now I have a couple hundred million spiritual stones, as well as a couple of different swords and different weapons in the numbers."

"As for manuals, I have almost 30 of them now that are actually good enough to be used. I have to say, although my powers as a cultivator and my understanding of battles and battle experience are good enough, I think the problem is that my understanding of this world and the mechanics of the Dao and cultivation itself is very narrow."

"At the moment, I still don’t understand exactly how to master every manual as fast as possible. I need at least a thousand or more in this life before the calamity hits. If that calamity hits, then my life would be wasted for nothing."

He looked at the sun, the empty and vast sky above him.

He thought, ’Maybe this is truly something that I have fallen into and I cannot get out.’

’This is truly something that I would fear, and I would probably die thousands of times if not more.’

As a writer and as a person who had created thousands of characters as well as tens of millions of written words, he understood exactly that time loops of this sort would be very hard to break.

As a writer of Xianxia, he understood that if he truly wanted to break the heavenly calamity and break the cycle of repetition, it would take immense power.

Even if he reached the seventh realm that he wanted to reach in the next life, he understood that it would probably not be enough.

Through the knowledge he had gathered over the past months, he understood that this world had ten levels of cultivation, and that was not even the immortal realm, or at least not the supreme realm spoken of in the legends. The Primordial Sea.

He understood that if he did not truly reach at least the tenth level, then he would be a waste.

But unfortunately, he had not created a single item within his novels that would make him jump from the very first realm of cultivation into the tenth.

Although there were things that would make him reach that level, it would take at least tens of lives to just get that chance.

With that knowledge, he decided that he would begin to build toward it from the very next life. From techniques to manuals to weapons to actual mastery of the forge and the cauldron.

He knew exactly that this would take thousands of lives before he could break it.

That was not something that meant he was weak or not smart enough, but as a writer he understood that it was not going to be this easy.

If facing the heavenly calamity was easy even with the existence of ten cultivators of the tenth realm, then why would he need to break it himself?

That was the question that resonated with him most.

That was the very fear that had filled him from the very beginning of his thinking on the matter.

What if I cannot stop it?

Will I die endlessly in an endless cycle of death and life and rebirth until I have nothing within my novels to use?

What then?

Will I continue dying forever?

Will this be my eternal hell?

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