The next day, Yu Xuan woke up groggily, stretched, and went about his morning business — including a very necessary visit to the bathroom.
After that, he brushed his teeth with a mint-spirit root paste and headed to breakfast with his family.
Despite this being a cultivation world, basic necessities weren’t lacking here.
In fact, many were more advanced here thanks to spiritual innovations — although availability varied by region.
Across the Eternal Star Heavenly World, most of the population still consisted of ordinary mortals, while cultivators made up a mere 20%.
It was said that once a cultivator reached the Nascent Soul Realm, their perception of the world deepened immensely.
They could sense truth in voices, lies in silence, and the presence of filth even if it was hidden behind politeness. And not just dirt — but spiritual filth, emotional residue.
Which is precisely why most high-realm cultivators preferred not to dwell among mortals.
Though they could shutoff their senses, but who knew when the enemy would attack.
To help bridge this divide, a long-standing organization was formed in ancient times:
MEAN — Mortal Empowerment Association for Natives.
Their mission was to uplift non-cultivators and preserve knowledge, dignity, and opportunity among the non-empowered majority.
And also to make sure cultivators don’t accidentally destroy a city or two during their fight.
Usually the Overlord of their domains manage this.
But of course, anyone who had even basic knowledge of the world knew the truth: cultivators were not born as cultivators.
They evolved — through generations of blood, sweat, hardship, and spiritual progress.
Yu Xuan had always respected that. In fact, he found ancestor worship to be one of the few traditions that truly made sense.
Still, his curiosity often got the better of him.
He’d read in the Grand Library that this world wasn’t always human-dominated. There were references — vague, fragmented, and many redacted — about "older races", ancient wars, and sealed domains.
Unfortunately, most of those records were behind access restrictions he couldn’t bypass yet.
But one day, he would.
He had decided early on — knowledge was power too. And someday, when he was strong enough, he’d return to those sealed scrolls and uncover the truths this world tried to hide.
He was still a mortal.
Still a five-year-old.
And for mortals — breakfast came first.
Yu Lingluo’s residence was right next to his own, so as part of his morning routine, Yu Xuan walked over and called out, "Sister! Let’s go to breakfast!"
As expected... no reply.
Rolling his eyes, Yu Xuan turned and made his way to his mother’s residence — a separate estate within the clan grounds, specially granted to Huan Lianhua.
It was massive, elegant, and half the time looked like it blinked in and out of existence — a side effect of illusion arrays.
Being the Young Master of the Yu Clan came with privileges. Yu Xuan was free to roam nearly everywhere on the estate — excluding a few very restricted zones that even he didn’t dare peek into. Yet.
Sometimes, he’d drop by the Martial Hall, watching older disciples spar with flying fists and glowing sword techniques.
Other times, he’d sneak into the Grand Library, where he read books on cultivation history — though, truthfully, he spent more time buried in fairy tales.
There was one book called "Tales of the Spirit Chicken" which told a story of a chicken evolving into Phoenix.
Then there was the Hall of Records, where grand statues of heroic ancestors stood tall, each carved with glowing script retelling their glorious deeds.
Several Elders had cried quietly upon discovering Yu Xuan’s self-motivated curiosity... then promptly scolded their own disciples for "lacking proper filial spirit."
Still, there were some things he didn’t have access to yet — like his own Universal Communication Talisman, a kind of spiritual smartphone used by cultivators across the world.
Each talisman was bound to a unique spiritual ID. You could add friends, send messages, or even form group chats. Entire sect-wide bulletin boards existed within them.
According to one tale, it was originally invented by an ancestor of the Xing Clan — just to send love letters to his crush.
Somewhere along the line, it evolved into the magical social network it was today.
By the time Yu Xuan stepped into the main dining hall, the family had already gathered.
His father, Yu Changming, sat at the head of the table, as calm and radiant as always — sipping tea like he wasn’t the human embodiment of overwhelming pressure.
His mother, Huan Lianhua, looked ethereal as usual, her illusion-glimmering hair pinned with jade flowers.
Yu Lingluo, the not-so-morning person, sat next to them with a half-lidded gaze and messy hair, stabbing her porridge like it had wronged her in a past life.
At first, when Yu Xuan had seen all the modern-ish things — warm baths, glowing lights, communication talismans — he had quietly questioned whether this world was even a proper cultivation world.
But as time passed... he learned to accept it.
Magic, after all, came in many forms.