Lifespan burning system

Rhys stood before the Awakening Ball, trying his best to look nervous. It was a difficult act; in truth, he was bored.

Having read countless webnovels in his previous life, he knew exactly how this scene would play out and found the real thing dreadfully predictable.

The five families had gathered around the town square, the air thick with anticipation. This was the big day: the annual Awakening Ceremony where sixteen-year-olds like him would discover their Traits.

"Look at him," a cousin from the Ashton Clan whispered, not quite quietly enough. "He's the son of the great Kaelen. He must awaken a powerful fire Trait!"

Rhys almost snorted.

The great Kaelen.

His father was a hero, sure, but he was also very, very dead. Being strong hadn't worked out too well for him in the long run.

Rhys had a different life goal: to find the most comfortable chair in the world and sit in it for a very long time, preferably somewhere far away and accompanied by a few jade beauties.

"Place your hand on the ball, Rhys," said the Ashton patriarch, his uncle. The man's voice was stern, full of expectation.

Rhys did as he was told, placing his palm on the cool, smooth surface. The moment his skin made contact, he felt it—a strange, quiet hum that resonated deep within his bones.

It wasn't a bang or a flash of insight. It was more like the feeling of settling into a warm bath, a pleasant, unending stillness.

He knew, with absolute certainty, what his Trait was. He would never age. His body would be locked in time after he reached twenty years old.

Cool. Unless I seek death in other ways, I'll never die of old age. In this cultivation world, no disease could kill a cultivator anyway.

He waited for the fireworks.

Nothing happened.

The Awakening Ball remained stubbornly black. There was no flash of red for a fire Trait, no shimmer of blue for water, not even a pathetic flicker of brown for a common earth Trait.

It was just a big, black rock.

A confused murmur spread through the crowd. The patriarch's face, which had been tight with hope, began to twist into a mask of fury.

"Impossible!" he spat. "The son of Kaelen Ashton… a dud? He has no Trait!"

Rhys pulled his hand back, feigning a look of shock and despair. Internally, he was fighting a grin.

Oh, this is even better than I thought.

He had a Trait, alright; it was just so useless that it didn't even register. No colour, no light, no power. It was the perfect excuse—his golden ticket out of this boring, predictable life.

His uncle pointed a trembling finger at him.

"You… you have brought shame upon this family! Your father gave his life for this town, for this clan! And you, his only son, are nothing but a waste of his powerful bloodline!"

The patriarch took a deep breath, his chest puffing out with self-importance. It was time for the grand finale. Rhys had seen this happen to others who had failed. It was a whole performance.

"From this day forward," the patriarch boomed, his voice echoing across the silent square, "you are no son of the Ashton Clan! You will not bear our name! You are exiled! Now get out of my sight!"

The crowd gasped. It was the ultimate punishment. To be cast out with no name, no family, and no power was a death sentence.

Rhys, meanwhile, was doing some quick mental math. No more morning drills? No more lectures about honour? No more being compared to my dead dad? I can finally leave this town and see if the food is better in the next province? Sign me up!

He perfected his look of heartbreak, letting a single, dramatic tear roll down his cheek. He bowed his head in shame, turned, and began his walk of exile.

He made sure to stumble a little, just to sell it. The moment he was out of the town square and onto the main road leading out of Silverwood, the sad look vanished, replaced by a wide, genuine grin.

"Freedom," he whispered to himself, a light, happy tune already forming on his lips. He had nothing but the simple clothes on his back and the plain moonstone pendant his mother had left him.

It was perfect. No baggage.

He was so lost in his happy thoughts of future adventures—maybe he'd try some of that famous sea-salt roast duck he'd read about—that he didn't notice the change in the air at first.

It started as a low hum, a pressure that made the dust on the road vibrate. Then, it became a crushing weight, as if a mountain had suddenly appeared in the sky.

Rhys looked up, his good mood evaporating.

High above, two figures were locked in a terrifying battle. One was a man, or what looked like one, cloaked in blinding golden light.

He radiated a power so immense that Rhys felt like an ant looking at the sun. The family heads of Silverwood, the mighty Core Formation experts, wouldn't even be dust motes in this being's presence.

His opponent was a beast of impossible size and beauty—a massive fox with pristine white fur and nine elegant tails swaying behind it like banners of war.

Each of its movements seemed to tear the very fabric of the sky.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Rhys muttered, taking a few steps back. His grand escape plan did not involve getting caught in a fight between gods.

The golden cultivator formed a spear of pure light. The nine-tailed fox opened its mouth and unleashed a torrent of white-hot energy. The two attacks met in the middle of the sky.

There was no sound. Just a silent, terrifying explosion of light that bleached the world white.

Rhys didn't even see the shockwave. He felt it. It wasn't aimed at him, not even close. It was just the leftover energy, the collateral damage from a clash that happened miles above his head.

But that leftover energy was more than enough. It slammed into him like a battering ram, lifting him off his feet and throwing him against the wall of a nearby building with a sickening crunch.

Pain, sharp and absolute, flared through his body. He collapsed into a heap, his vision blurring. His bones felt shattered, his insides turned to mush.

The two celestial beings, their fight already moving across the sky, disappeared over the horizon, likely having never even noticed the insignificant insect they had just swatted.

Rhys lay in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

Well, this is poor travel planning, he thought, a final wisp of sarcasm flickering in his dying mind. Didn't even make it to the town gate. How embarrassing.

His vision faded to black. The world was gone.

And then, in the silent, empty darkness of his mind, a crisp, blue screen flickered to life.

[Host has sustained fatal injuries.]

[Unique Trait: 'Ageless Body' detected.]

[Trait is compatible with System requirements. Converting Trait into a fuel source…]

[System Activation Complete. Welcome, Host, to the Lifespan Burning System. Your life is now a currency. Spend it wisely...]

Another message immediately followed.

[Critical Injury Detected. Host's survival probability: 0.01%. Offer: Consume 25 years of lifespan to achieve the Flawless Adamantine Body and heal all wounds? Y/N]

Twenty-five years? Rhys thought, his consciousness a flickering candle in the wind.

That's a quarter of a century just for... not dying. Seems a bit steep. On the other hand, my travel plans are currently on hold indefinitely. And what's 25 years when you've got forever? Fine. But if I don't get at least a six-pack out of this, I'm leaving a bad review.

[Come on, Host! Don't act like these 25 years mattered to you. You have an infinite lifespan!]

Oh, true. Sorry, mate. My greedy brain forgot about that, hehe.

He focused the last shred of his will on the 'Y'.

The moment he made his choice, a wave of warmth, potent and invigorating, flooded his broken body. It was like a gentle wash of warm water.

This was a roaring furnace. His shattered bones snapped back into place, his torn muscles wove themselves back together, and his pulped organs returned to pristine condition.

He could feel his body changing on a fundamental level, becoming denser, stronger, more... perfect.

The whole process took less than a second.

Rhys sat up, the pool of his own blood steaming around him as if it were evaporating off a hot stone.

He looked at his hands and clenched them into fists. There was no pain. He felt... great. Better than great. He felt strong.

A new panel appeared in his mind.

[Status]

Host: Rhys

Trait: Ageless body

Cultivation: Body Tempering (Low)

Foundation: Flawless Adamantine Body

Lifespan Remaining: Infinite