Playing Fantasy World Equals Cultivation

After Lu Ze manually shut down the entire Cultivation World’s [Ray Tracing] system in the backend of "My World," the remnant of the Heavenly Dao finally returned to normal.

“Hmph, this Heavenly Dao was merely holding back its full strength,” the Heavenly Dao remnant declared arrogantly, without a hint of embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” Lu Ze cheerfully agreed, then muttered to himself:

“But even if everyone in the Cultivation World used [Ray Tracing] together, it shouldn’t have overloaded like this…”

“I’ll say it again: this Heavenly Dao did not overload,” the remnant insisted righteously.

“I see… Did you perhaps optimize the entire illusory world of the opponent?” Lu Ze suddenly asked, a spark of inspiration lighting up his mind.

The Heavenly Dao remnant responded confidently, “What’s wrong with that?”

“That’s a huge problem… From now on, you should only apply the spells near their actual location; otherwise, all that optimization is pointless,” Lu Ze realized with a start.

No wonder Nascent Soul cultivators couldn’t sustain their spiritual energy consumption, and no wonder the Heavenly Dao remnant was crashing from overload.

Turns out this guy was cranking the power consumption to the max…

“Hmph, so what if I apply it everywhere? This Heavenly Dao… Fine, since you little ant insist, I’ll give you a break this once,” the remnant said with a swagger.

Lu Ze didn’t bother to expose him and instead asked about something else:

“By the way… isn’t the spiritual energy you demand from cultivators too much? Today, many cultivators collapsed from exhaustion. If this continues, it won’t be good for either of us.”

“Heh, does this Heavenly Dao care about the ants’ spiritual energy? It’s just that I’m too weak myself!” The remnant sneered arrogantly.

“Besides, being able to exchange spiritual energy for spell blessings from me is a huge blessing for the ants!”

Lu Ze’s eyes lit up. “Oh? How so?”

“Heh, the spiritual energy refined by this Heavenly Dao becomes far purer than ordinary…”

“Spells nourished by this kind of spiritual energy are equivalent to training in a place rich with spiritual energy.”

“Moreover, these spells carry the will of this Heavenly Dao.”

“If you can comprehend even half of it, it will be a tremendous gift for you ants.”

Lu Ze actually found himself believing the Heavenly Dao remnant’s words.

After all, no matter how incomplete, it was still a product of the Heavenly Dao.

However, when it came to the claim about the Heavenly Dao’s will, Lu Ze wasn’t so sure.

It was one thing for the Heavenly Dao will from a thousand years ago to be trustworthy.

But to comprehend the half-broken will of the current Heavenly Dao remnant? That path was likely to go astray…

“If that’s truly the case, then we’re in luck from now on…” Lu Ze secretly rejoiced.

The very existence of the illusory game was fundamentally at odds with the path of cultivation.

In the short term, it could indeed attract cultivators to relax and play.

After all, slowing down cultivation for a year or two wouldn’t matter much to most cultivators, especially those stuck at bottlenecks.

But in the long run, it wouldn’t work.

Even if cultivators genuinely enjoyed playing, their sects would intervene.

But with the Heavenly Dao remnant’s blessing, things were different.

Playing in the illusion was equivalent to cultivating?

What a wonderful thing!

If playing games in a previous life could boost exam scores, Lu Ze dared not imagine how many perfect scorers a school would have.

The sects wouldn’t just refrain from intervening—they would actively encourage their disciples to spend more time in the illusion.

Play!

Play to your heart’s content!!

Originally, he only thought he had found a server for the illusion realm and a scapegoat for the system.

He never expected the remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao to have such an effect.

Looks like he really has to keep this lord well-fed and pampered.

“Hmph, I’ve fulfilled your request, but when will you show me that efficiency you promised—the one that shortens time to just a hundred years?”

The remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao asked.

“Soon, very soon,”

Lu Ze replied with a smile.

“Remember, I’m only giving you one month,”

the remnant spirit warned coldly.

“All right, all right... By the way, don’t you want to change your look? Right now, cultivators see you and think you’re childish.”

Lu Ze glanced at the remnant spirit, who looked like a little bun with cataracts, and suddenly got an idea.

“Change my look? Into what?”

The remnant spirit was puzzled.

“How about this?”

Lu Ze casually tweaked some data, and instantly the remnant spirit transformed into a character wearing a blue shirt, with a buzz cut and white eyes.

The remnant spirit studied the new appearance for a long time.

There was an indescribable sense of wickedness about it.

“Not bad,”

the remnant spirit surprisingly gave a rare approving answer.

“That’s good.”

Lu Ze grinned.

This was the character HIM, the most talked-about urban legend in his previous life’s game, *Minecraft*.

In *Annoying Villagers*, HIM was the ultimate villain who destroyed the world.

This quirky, volatile remnant spirit of the Heavenly Dao, who could blow up the Tianxuan Sect at any moment, was actually somewhat similar.

“Oh, and you’d better give yourself a nickname... How about ‘Black Curtain’?”

“Hmm, later I’ll add some obsidian spell modules for you... you can come and get them yourself.”

“Don’t just stay stuck in the main world. When you have free time, go visit players’ illusion realms more often...”

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