My gaze traveled from her hand holding mine, up her arm to her shoulder, then inevitably back down to those perfect pointy peaks with a strange kind of nipples, straining on closer look.

I could kind of guess with my perverted instinct that she got those ultra big nipples unnecessarily ugly, as mentioned in mangas... however, I can't judge without looking at them bare, can I?

Each step made it bounce just slightly, and I could feel my cock throbbing again, demanding attention.

I followed Sylvea through the village, her hand still gripping mine with that surprising strength. The wooden structures blended seamlessly with the massive trees, rope bridges connecting platforms overhead like some fantasy treehouse city.

But what caught my attention wasn't the architecture.

It was the people.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

Old women paused their activities to stare at me, their wrinkled faces etched with surprise and suspicion.

A few children—young elves, I assumed—peeked out from behind doorways, their eyes wide with confusion.

They were looking at me like I was some exotic animal that had wandered into their territory.

I lifted my free hand, giving them a casual wave and a friendly smile. "Why are there so few people in this village?" I asked, glancing at Sylvea.

She didn't answer immediately, her jaw tightening. An older elf woman nearby—her silver hair braided down her back, face lined with age—spoke up instead.

"Mostly we are brought here as escaped slaves," she said, her voice carrying the weight of bitter experience. "Caught by the orcs. Those who were able to escape ran away, leaving the tribe alone, surrounded by the—"

She stopped abruptly, shaking her head. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Forget it," she said firmly. "You are a guest here, so you shouldn't be caring about it."

I looked at the old woman, noting the pain in her eyes, the way her shoulders sagged like she carried invisible weights. Then I nodded, not pushing the subject.

I was not the hero though definitely for a heroine, I could be.

Orcs were not the issue for me but killing them meant leaving this already weak-ass village without any protection.

So, my help would just disable the balance here if I am correct.

Before I could say anything else, a young man approached us.

He looked to be in his early twenties by human standards, though with elves that could mean anything.

His features were delicate but masculine, silver hair cut shorter than Sylvea's, green eyes sharp and alert.

"Aunt," he said, his gaze fixed on me with obvious curiosity. "Who is this person?"

The word 'aunt' made me reassess. So Sylvea had family here.

The young man was clearly seeing someone other than an elf or orc for the first time, based on how intensely he was studying me.

Especially how his aunt was holding my hand.

Sylvea's eyes widened, and she yanked her hand back from mine like I'd suddenly caught fire. Her cheeks flushed that familiar crimson.

"Oh! Meet him, his name is Tian Long," she said quickly, then her expression shifted to concern. "Wait, what are you doing here? What about sister?"

The young man's face softened at the question. "You don't have to worry. I closed the door."

Sister? Someone who needed to be guarded, kept behind a closed door? My curiosity spiked, but I kept my expression neutral.

Sylvea nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer, then gestured for both of us to follow.

We walked deeper into the village, the young man falling into step beside me while Sylvea led the way.

I couldn't help but feel a strange smell brushing off her hair, like dried autumn leaves—really.

The young man cleared his throat. "I'm Aelion," he said, extending his hand.

I shook it, noting his body very weak but at the same time, a strange kind of coincidence, but I shouldn't care much. "Tian Long. Your aunt was kind enough to offer me shelter."

"Aunt Sylvea is always helping everyone," Aelion said with a small smile, though there was an edge to his words more due to disappointment directed at himself for something rather than me.

"Lucky me," I replied dryly.

We approached a structure built into one of the larger trees—more substantial than the others, with carved wooden walls and what looked like actual windows with glass panes. Sylvea stopped at the entrance, waiting for us to catch up.

The three of us climbed the wooden steps leading to the house, the boards creaking slightly under our weight.

I reached the top step and crossed the threshold.

Then I stopped dead.

My eyes went wide, my brain trying to process what I was seeing.

"What the hell?" That was the first thought that crossed my mind. Before noticing both of their gazes, I blinked and then looked at the woman in front of me lying on a flower bed at the corner of the room.

'Is that really her?'

The woman lying on the flower bed was... a thick woman.

Boob, ass, and all—yes, the description I wasn't going to recite to say the same thing again and again.

But if I have to say in simple lines, that woman even in her comatose state, radiated a kind of otherworldly beauty that made Sylvea look almost plain by comparison—and Sylvea was fucking gorgeous.

But that wasn't what made me stop and stare in clear confusion.

It was the energy.

A strange, dense aura hovered around her body like a second skin, barely visible to the naked eye but clear as day to me.

I bet none of them could have seen this or even me if not for already having seen too many perverted things, would have reacted overly excited and all.

After all, it was something very shocking.

Though I knew that energy very well, there was the same energy which, to be truthful, had become the means for me to nearly lose my life and everything in the lower realm.

It was energy similar to Draconic Vine present within my continent, which upon blast I had sent into this realm.

But that energy around her was not killing or harming but rather the energy was keeping her frozen. Locked in place. Suspended between life and death.

'Shit... wait, revived from death, was this it?'

I again chuckled. Naturally, from outside I would seem like a madman, but my hand went on my face as I thought about the fact of how overpowered my system was to just hand over a key plot armor like this?

My mind raced back to the novel's plot—the original story I'd been transmigrated into.

In the lower realm, there was a hidden master. A legendary figure who'd been the foundation of the continent, the one who'd established the power structure that the Zhao family eventually came to rule.

That founder was supposed to be dead. Long dead, centuries gone.

But in the upcoming plot—plot that hadn't happened yet in my timeline—Zhao Chen would discover an inheritance.

A hidden sanctuary deep within some forgotten ruins. And inside that sanctuary, he'd find a Soul Call Talisman.

A unique artifact, one of a kind in the entire story. An item so powerful it could summon back the soul of the dead, give them form and voice once more.

Zhao Chen would use it to call back the founder's soul, learning directly from the legendary master.

Ancient techniques, forbidden knowledge, cultivation methods that would catapult him past every rival and obstacle.

It was supposed to be one of his biggest power-ups.

And right now, standing in this random elf village in the middle of nowhere, I was looking at the exact same energy signature.

Everything seems to fall into place, this ancient realm being the place where souls get pulled into reincarnation while the founder possessing such an artifact to revive her back had created a rope battle between reincarnation and death by sealing her own soul.

So, when—if I am correct—the talisman activated after the first awakening of that inheritance. Most probably this woman, being the reincarnation of the soul in this world, fell in this state, only to be called later by Son of Heaven.

The strings of power coiled around her weren't just keeping her in a coma. They were preserving her. Protecting her. Maintaining her body in perfect condition while her soul...

My eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place.

'The founder was... a woman?'

That changed everything.

The novel had never explicitly stated the founder's gender—always referring to them with neutral terms, keeping their identity mysterious.

I'd just assumed it was a man because, well, most cultivation novels made legendary masters male.

But if the founder was actually a woman, and if this woman lying here was somehow really the founder of the continent which I ruled then...

I closed my eyes, hand on face thinking very deeply before finally loosening as I looked towards her lying body.

'Should I fuck her?'

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