Shen Li stared at the simulation rewards, his eyes flickering with barely restrained greed.
Among them, one stood apart:
[Skincrawler Template] — A form without vital points. Muscles that moved like flowing water. Skin that reshaped and reformed. Semi-immortal. Unkillable by conventional means.
His throat tightened.
"With this... I would no longer be human."
He imagined it—flesh twisting with a thought, wounds sealing without medicine, blades rendered meaningless. Even fire, the bane of most flesh-born abominations, would only delay him unless it was absolute.
And yet… His gaze shifted to the second reward:
[Memory Imprint: Medicine, Soul, Skin] — Forbidden knowledge: the art of soul binding, anatomical deconstruction, skin manipulation, yin soul conditioning, and the method to anchor spirit to flesh.
No monstrous transformation. No immediate power. But this imprint offered something else—understanding. It was the key behind the miracle he had just witnessed. The reason the Skincrawler could exist.
Shen Li's jaw tensed.
"The Skincrawler I can become again... eventually. But this imprint? This might be my only chance to understand the why—to grasp the foundation behind it."
His thoughts churned. One path offered raw survival. The other, mastery over the process of rebirth itself.
Minutes passed.
Then, slowly, he raised his hand. "I choose... memory."
The moment he spoke, it was as though the heavens tore open. Knowledge flooded him.
But eventually, it ended.
He leaned back in his chair, drenched in cold sweat, his fingers trembling.
"So I was right… That creature wasn't just a freak of nature. She was using a structured, repeatable supernatural power. And based on what I've gained, I have a thirty percent chance of replicating it."
A slow grin crept across his face.
"And that power—Skincrawler—it's not just a body. It's a concept. A new path. A form that breaks free of martial limitations. No need for dantian or qi techniques. Just... control. Over flesh. Over form. Over death."
He rubbed his temples.
"I need rest. But not for long."
His gaze turned to the dark ceiling above.
"Next simulation... I'm coming back for that body."
The more Shen Li unraveled the nature of his simulator, the more horrifying—and wondrous—it became.
It did not stop at death.
Unlike any known cultivation artifact, his system allowed the soul to persist. After death, after destruction, it drifted—learning, adapting, returning. It wasn't simply a future-viewing tool. It was a reincarnation crucible.
He had come to a terrifying conclusion:
If his soul could bind to a weird being—a supernatural monster—he might inherit its traits. Completely.
Not just in simulation, but in real life. Possession. Mutation. Resurrection. These weren't curses anymore. They were methods.
Shen Li's eyes narrowed like blades.
"If I want to unlock the true potential of this system... I must embrace the weirds. I must use them. Merge with them. Study them."
Next time, perhaps, he wouldn't possess a stitched abomination.
Perhaps… he would become a zombie, a walking corpse driven by soul alone. It was madness. But he had the means to test it.
[Simulation Starting]
[Year 1] — You chose caution, avoiding all conflict. Your only goal: survive long enough to witness the birth of the Skincrawler.
[Year 2] — You evacuated Qinghe County and relocated to the outskirts ahead of the bandit invasion.
[Year 3] — You purchased ruined lands at extremely low prices. These later became a stable income source. Your identity shifted—from merchant to land baron.
[Year 7] — As predicted, the Skincrawler was born. With your assistance (fresh corpses, concealment), it fully formed within a single night.
[Year 8] — You observed her growth, defense mechanisms, and absorption patterns in detail. Your admiration evolved into obsession.
[Year 9] — Your consistent aid built trust. The creature accepted your desire and grafted skin to your living body. But you remained human—just layered.
[– To truly become a Skincrawler, your soul must first be separated from life.]
[Later that year] — You exited your body and tried again. But now the Skincrawler no longer recognized you. You were just another ghost.
[You attempted to bind your soul directly to a skin shell.]
[Result] — The ritual failed. The backlash fractured your soul.
[You have died permanently.]
Simulation Rewards:
[Body and Condition at Age 25] (Body of a merchant-faction leader hardened through stress and command. Maintains moderate martial conditioning, tactical instincts, and a high-pressure tolerance. Following failed skin grafting, the body retains unnatural tissue elasticity—some foreign skin layers remain integrated, slightly altering tactile resistance and flexibility. No active Skincrawler traits due to lack of soul fusion.)
[Memory Imprint: Soul-Binding and Skincraft] (Expanded memory set containing detailed rituals and practices for soul-binding, corpse-grafting, and partial skin integration. Failed grafting experience provided deeper understanding of compatibility rules between soul and flesh. Includes theories on Weird physiology.)
[Mutated Yin Soul Core] (Soul that endured partial rejection and backlash during failed binding ritual. While damaged, the soul adapted under intense duress—gained increased resistance to soul decay, moderate resilience to spiritual corrosion.)
[Land Deeds] (Collection of legal deeds to ruined lands acquired cheaply before the county's collapse. These include fertile zones and strategic junctions located on future caravan routes. Each deed bears an official stamp from the magistrate's office—a rare and expensive protection that even nobles and wealthy merchants often avoid to escape taxation.)
His gaze lingered on [Memory Imprint: Soul-Binding and Skincraft] for a long time. The knowledge it offered was priceless. But his soul... it was already fraying at the edges from prior simulations. Integrating that much foreign insight again, this soon, could break open his head.
Then there was the [Refined Yin Soul].
Tempting. Very tempting. But he knew what it meant: accepting it would push his soul past the threshold. He would no longer be able to anchor to his body—he'd become a wandering spirit by default. To keep the reward would mean abandoning his flesh. Permanently.
With a weary shrug, Shen Li selected the Land Deeds—the least mystical, least dangerous of the four.
The moment he did, a scroll appeared in his hand. Simple parchment. Red wax seal. Clean ink.
He scoffed at first.
"This? This is what I chose?"
But then, something caught his eye.
The seal—an official stamp from Qinghe's governing bureau. Not a forgery. Not a faded leftover. A genuine, court-recognized document.
"No one uses stamped deeds," he muttered. "The tax alone would bankrupt a man..."
He quickly unrolled the rest—all of them bore the same mark.
And the land? Storefronts. Granaries. Storage halls. Several plots wrapped around the inner ring of the county's trade center.
Shen Li's breath caught for a moment.
If he dared to use these, he'd instantly become one of the largest legal landowners in the city.
But he'd also become a target.
"The magistrate would protect my rights... but the people wouldn't. And those who currently squat on these plots—they'd rather cut my throat than surrender what's theirs."
He held the scroll tighter.
"What kind of play is this?"
And yet... his lips curved upward slightly.
A certified land deed—something few dared pursue.
In Qinghe, gaining a stamped deed meant paying an extra 30% tax. Most merchants avoided it like the plague. Why pay more for something you already controlled unofficially?
But those who did... gained something irreplaceable.
Legal protection.
"Even if the magistrate changes hands, even if a noble tries to seize it... they can't. The land belongs to the name on this scroll."
Government-acknowledged. Inviolable. Defensible in court.
Shen Li narrowed his eyes at the stamped deeds in his hand.
He knew very well—he couldn't sell them now.
Not while every inch of those lands was squatted by greedy merchants. If he publicly claimed ownership, it would be the same as putting his own head in the hot pot.
So he made his decision.
"I'll wait... until the bandits come."
"Sell before the attack. Disappear before the smoke clears."
Once the sale was done, and he left Qinghe County behind, the real owners—the squatters—would scream.
By then, he'd be long gone.
And the ones holding the stamped deeds would be their new headache.
"Let them fight it out over ownership. As long as I have the silver, I don't care who wins."
Shen Li smiled coldly.
"It's only a scam if you're still around to be caught."
But even as Shen Li sealed away the land deeds, a trace of dissatisfaction lingered in his heart.
He had spent twenty full years within the simulation.
He had bound skin to flesh, tried to merge with a Weird, even attempted soul-stitching—but still, he failed to truly become a Skincrawler.
"So close... yet not enough."
His remaining lifespan now sat at 292 years.
While still long compared to mortals, to Shen Li—who saw time as fuel—it felt restrictive. With every simulation shaving off precious years, even he had begun to feel the pressure.
Worse, the surge of foreign knowledge crammed into his soul after the Memory Imprint was still swirling inside him, leaving his thoughts foggy, his nerves taut. He needed time to digest it. He needed... to breathe.
"No more simulations for now," he muttered, massaging his temples.
"I need to stabilize."
He established a modest real estate agency on the edge of the market district—nothing flashy, just a storefront with clean signage and polite clerks.
Behind the scenes, however, the agency served a very different purpose:
Stage One: Slowly sell off the deeds he acquired from the simulation. But only to small fish—weak factions, merchant families, or isolated father-son businesses. People without clout, too afraid or too disorganized to trace the origin of the deeds or fight back.
Stage Two: When the bandit invasion arrived—exactly as his simulation foresaw—he would quickly offload the high-risk deeds: those tied to mid and top-tier families, selling them at half price. Then, disappear before the smoke settled.
And just like that, Shen Li took his first step into the real world as both a cultivator and a conman.
.....
After a week of rest, Shen Li finally felt ready to continue simulating. The strain on his spirit had faded, replaced by a cold, steady resolve. Yet the past seven days had not been idle—far from it. Shortly after recovering, he quietly opened a real estate agency in Qinghe County under a false name. It was a clever front, both legal and profitable, and more importantly, it gave him a foothold in the city without drawing too much attention.
He had no intention of handling the day-to-day work himself. A few trustworthy locals—none too clever, none too curious—were hired to manage operations. He made it clear: only serious buyers could request direct contact. No casual visits. No friendly chats. No nonsense.
Shen Li had grown increasingly wary of people. Words were weapons. Smiles hid intentions. Behind every handshake could be a knife. After what he'd seen in the last simulation, he no longer believed in coincidences—or safety.
Shen Li knew the land deed office had become a festering pit of corruption, with old disputes and buried grudges waiting to resurface. Some of the properties he acquired had blood in their history—long-lost relatives, petty officials, and even former owners who still believed the land belonged to them. He had anticipated revenge. It was only a matter of time.
So, preemptively, he began hiring martial artists.
They weren't elite cultivators—those would've drawn too much attention—but skilled enough to break bones and make people disappear without a trace. Most were desperate wanderers, easily bought with silver.
With everything arranged—the agency established, his name scrubbed from records, the guards in place, and silver beginning to flow—Shen Li allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction.
"Finally," he murmured, sinking onto the floor in the hidden chamber behind his rented courtyard estate. "I can lie low… and collect the rewards."
But his gaze quickly drifted toward the mirror, its surface unnaturally smooth, like a still pond untouched by time.
"The purpose hasn't changed," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "This time… I will become the Skincrawler."
"This time," he said slowly, "I'll let my body die the moment the skin monster is born. I'll abandon this shell"
Name: Shen Li
Race: Human
Lifespan: 16 / 345
To simulate, enter how many years of lifespan you wish to sacrifice.∗∗AwaitingInput...∗∗∗∗AwaitingInput...∗∗
Shen Li didn't hesitate.
"Ten years," he said aloud, his voice steady. "Same as before."
[Simulation begins.]