I Can Only Cultivate In A Game

Meanwhile back on the outskirts of Blueflame, Elder Mo and Tarkos were still in the process of investigation.

It had already been over two days since the incident and they hadn't stopped trying to find clues.

Elder Mo spoke slowly. "That kind of spatial distortion doesn't happen on its own. Someone manipulated the grove. Most likely someone who didn't want him leaving with that seal information."

Tarkos punched his palm. "Then we find them."

They had been trying to trace spiritual energy signatures and searching nearby terrain. But finally, one of their leads yielded fruit.

Inside a nearby outpost tavern at the edge of the northern ridgeline, they found a stablehand who worked at the route leading to the grove.

The stablehand looked nervous when Elder Mo questioned about any suspicious sightings.

"Y-Yeah… I seen someone passing the route that leads to that cursed grove more than once. Weren't sure who they was, but they wore dark robes and always kept their face hidden. Moved weird too… like wind had trouble touching 'em."

"How often?" Elder Mo asked.

"Every few weeks. Last time was just a few days ago."

Elder Mo and Tarkos exchanged looks.

"We're not dealing with a normal cultivator," Elder Mo said. "Let's move. We need to warn the City Lord. And find Victor."

Tarkos nodded with a hardened expression. "He better still be in one piece... well, he is a transmigrator after all."

---

Meanwhile, Victor emerged from the crooked forest and onto a cliffside overlooking a strange, glimmering valley.

At the far end, he could barely make out the flicker of a boundary line –

Victor trudged forward with his boots stirring up the fine dust of an unfamiliar path. His face was smeared with grime, a streak of dried blood matted along the side of his jaw, but he didn't care. He had been walking for what felt like forever, through rough mountain passes and forests cloaked in eternal twilight.

The sun was elusive in this part of the world, and the sky rarely shifted from that dull grey haze, like the heavens themselves were lost in thought.

"Six days," Victor muttered while dragging his sword behind him in exhaustion. "I've been in this damn game for six days straight."

He couldn't believe it.

Over a whole day had passed in the real world.

If he spent another two more days in-game without getting back to Blueflame, he absolutely had to log out.

Unfortunately, there was still no sign of Blueflame City, no hint of a road or landmark that looked even remotely familiar.

The system map was no help either. The terrain he was passing through didn't show up clearly, marked only as [Obscured Zone - Mapping Incomplete].

At one point, Victor climbed a craggy ridge hoping to spot something in the distance. Instead, he found himself staring down at a grotesque scene.

A titanic, lizard-like spirit beast with a mane of tendrils was tearing into a smaller beast.

Its fangs ripped through flesh with terrifying ease. The smaller creature let out a bone-chilling shriek before dissolving into blue vapor.

[Warning: Apex Predatory Spirit Beast Detected]

Victor flinched as the system notification pulsed in red.

This meant that the spiritual beast was at least two realms above him.

"Hell no," he whispered while taking several careful steps back. He turned and bolted in the opposite direction, veering down into a dense thicket. Twigs snapped, branches clawed at him, but he didn't care. Anything was better than becoming a mid-afternoon snack.

Another full day crawled by. Victor's face grew gaunt. He battled through more terrain that felt like it belonged to a haunted realm.

Floating stones, whispering winds, and spirit beasts with too many eyes. He killed what he could. Fled from what he couldn't. His robe was torn. But he refused to give up.

"I swear if I ever make it back, I'm filing a formal complaint about this trash game design," he grunted.

Then all of a sudden, he spotted something in the distance...

Nestled between two hills, cradled by dark pine forests, was a settlement.

A small village surrounded by stone walls, lanterns swaying lazily in the wind. The wooden sign at the entrance was barely legible, eroded by years of weather. But the name was still there:

~ Windlands ~

Victor raised a brow. He hadn't seen a soul for three days. His instincts told him that something was off.

Still, he pushed forward cautiously.

The village seemed... too quiet. The wind moved, but there were no sounds of life. No merchants shouting. No children running. No scent of cooked food in the air. Just the soft creaking of the lanterns and the dull echo of his boots on ground.

"Hello?" he called out.

No answer.

Victor walked deeper into the Windlands. Houses stood perfectly still. He peeked into one and saw a dining table with meals still set. Chairs pulled out. A fire long since burned out. It looked as though people had been there—but were pulled away suddenly.

"What the hell happened here?"

[System Notification: Hidden Area Discovered - Windlands Settlement]

[Note: This area has been marked as a Distorted Echo Zone. Be cautious.]

"Distorted echo?" Victor narrowed his eyes. "What is this, some kind of spiritual memory?"

Then he saw movement.

Just a flicker at the edge of his vision. A figure darting between the buildings.

Victor immediately raised his guard and pulled his sword out. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

He advanced slowly and turned at a corner.

He saw a hunched man in torn robes sitting at a well. The man was muttering to himself with his fingernails caked in dirt.

"Hey! You okay? What happened here?"

The man looked up with a milky and unfocused eyes. Then, without warning, he lunged at Victor.

"The veil! They tore the veil! It's not safe anymore! They're still listening!"

Victor sidestepped and slammed the man to the ground. "What veil? Who tore it? What's going on here?"

The man convulsed and began frothing at the mouth. Before Victor could restrain him further, the man's body dissolved into shimmering particles.

[Echo Memory Terminated.]

Victor stood up with a contorted expression. "The hell is going on here?"

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.

Victor turned.

The Windlands was waking up.

Figures emerged from the shadows. Some walked. Others floated.

The settlement which was once lifeless, now pulsed with haunting energy.

"Of course... it just got worse."

A spectral figure materialized from the center of the settlement. A female spirit, cloaked in what looked like noble garments from a bygone era, hovered a few feet above the stone plaza.

"You… outsider," she whispered. "You've disturbed the sigil. The final echo… has been breached."

Victor straightened. "Wait—what are you?"

"A remnant… bound for over a thousand years… along with my people. We are shadows of a life torn from time. You triggered the Unraveling."

A system notification appeared:

[D ranked QUEST TRIGGERED: The Silence of Windlands]

‒ [Objective: Discover what anchors the spirits of Windlands to this plane.] ‒ [Progress: 0%]

Victor muttered, "Just great."

Over the next several hours, Victor investigated every structure, every shard of qi residue, guided by soft voices and occasional memories the spirits let slip.

He began piecing together fragments of the past—

This settlement had once been prosperous, until a calamity involving a cursed artifact tore through the land.

The artifact, designed to protect, had backfired when its creator died in agony during its activation. His soul, and those of everyone around him, had been locked in place ever since.

The settlement became a ghost town and could not even be located by travelers.

Their ghosts were tethered to this plane to relive the same day over and over and over again.

It was truly torturous.

Vicfor believed his bloodline might be the only reason why he managed to stumble upon this place in the first place but he decided he would find the anchor no matter what.

Victor eyes narrowed as he paused.

The wind picked up slightly, carrying with it a whisper. Not metaphorical. A literal whisper.

"You don't belong here, traveler..."

Victor turned around sharply, scanning the barren stretch behind him. No one.

Then a soft shimmer flickered at the edge of a nearby boulder.

A man stood translucent form glided toward him. He was dressed in tattered garments.

"Did you say something?" Victor asked, cautiously.

The spirit tilted his head. "You're the first with a beating heart to set foot here in over a thousand years."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "So I'm kind of a big deal, huh?"

He chuckled softly. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you've come to share our fate."

"Not planning on staying," Victor said. "I'm looking for the thing binding this place. Something that's keeping you all… stuck."

His expression turned solemn. "Then speak to the one in the garden. He has waited the longest."

Before he could ask more, the man vanished into drifting motes.

Victor exhaled as a strange chill brushed through his skin. "Well. Off to the ghost garden, I guess."

—

[The Withered Garden]

Stone arches stood like crooked teeth, covered in dead vines and frostbitten flora. At the center, hunched over a patch of cracked soil, was an elderly man with glowing white eyes. He wore robes that dragged through the dust like ribbons, and a strange curved hoe rested beside him.

Victor approached with caution. "You the local gardener?"