Data-Driven Cultivation: I Defy Heaven and Overthrow Interstellar Domestication

The mine was incredibly dark.

The light from the tinderbox couldn't even shine three feet out here, as if it were swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. Xie Yanchen simply put away the tinderbox and groped his way forward in the dark. His feet made a soft grinding sound as they stepped on the gravel, bouncing back and forth in the empty mine tunnel, sounding like several people hiding in the shadows imitating his walk.

This place is even more sinister than described in the sect's records.

For decades, no one had set foot in the mine. The tunnels were either collapsed or blocked, and the forks in the road were as numerous as a spider's web, where one could easily get lost if one wasn't careful. The air was thick with the smell of decay, and underneath lay the stench of monster dung. The two smells mingled together, making one's temples throb.

For an ordinary disciple to enter such a place, just finding the way would drive them mad. Add to that the possibility of things jumping out from the shadows at any moment—surviving would be a stroke of good fortune. No wonder the sect sent several groups to clear it out, each time suffering heavy losses, and finally simply sealed off the mine.

But Xie Yanchen walked very steadily.

It's not that I'm brave, it's that there's no need to panic.

In his field of vision, Terminal Zero had already thoroughly investigated the entire mine. Which roads were open, which roads had collapsed, and which nooks and crannies hid monster dens were all marked on the 3D map, clearer than the layout of his own yard.

After walking for about half an incense stick's time, a pair of green lights suddenly appeared in the darkness ahead.

Then it's one pair, then another pair, and then another pair.

A dozen pairs of bright green eyes were densely packed in the cracks of the rock in the mine tunnel ahead, staring at him without moving.

Armored Rat.

It was twice the size of the others, with its front teeth protruding out of its mouth, and its gray-black bristles standing on end, making a low "clucking" sound.

Xie Yanchen didn't stop walking.

  

The lead giant rat suddenly let out a shriek, and the entire swarm surged forward like a burst dam of black water. The screeching sound of claws scraping against the rock face filled the air, making one's teeth ache.

When the first one pounced in front of him, he didn't even raise his hand—he just turned his body to the side, letting the drooling rat's mouth brush against his collar and miss, then casually pressed his right palm down on the back of its neck.

The spiritual energy seeped in.

The rat froze, not even having time to twitch, before falling to the ground from mid-air and remaining motionless.

The second and third rats pounced right after. He kicked one away, then grabbed the other's head with his left hand and slammed it against the rock wall next to him—"thud," a muffled sound followed, and red and white matter splattered on the black rock wall. The rat slumped down, limp and lifeless.

He frowned and rubbed his fingers on the hem of his clothes.

There are no spells, no ultimate moves, and no unnecessary actions.

It's just the simplest pressing, kicking, and slamming. Each strike lands precisely on the armored rat's most vulnerable spots—the back of its neck, the base of its ears, and its jaw joint. It doesn't expend a single bit of spiritual energy or physical strength.

The rats swarmed up and piled up into corpses at his feet.

When the last armored rat let out a dying squeak, Xie Yanchen looked down—his boots were covered in blood, and his clothes were splattered with it as well. He frowned again.

After a little over an incense stick's time, the mine tunnel became quiet.

He found a relatively clean corner on the rock face, rubbed the soles of his shoes on the stone, and continued walking in.

Next came another group of three black-striped wolves, blocking the entrance to the mine tunnel. The leader was particularly large, almost reaching his waist at the shoulder, with protruding fangs and a low growl rumbling in its throat.

Its fate was the same as that of the Ironhide Rat.

Then, suddenly, a venomous snake as thick as an arm dangled down from a crevice in the rock above him, its fangs bared, only half a foot from the back of his neck—the terminal had already marked it. Without turning his head, he flicked his finger at the snake's head, and the snake fell straight to the ground before it could even spit out its venom.

When he reached the end of the middle level of the mine, he looked back at the way he had come.

The dark mine tunnels were littered with the corpses of monsters, and the stench of blood in the air was so strong it was almost tangible, making people instinctively cover their mouths and noses with their sleeves.

The task of eliminating the enemy assigned by the sect leader has been exceeded.

But Xie Yanchen did not turn back.

He stood at a three-way intersection, his gaze fixed on the most inconspicuous mine tunnel on his left. That road was narrower than the others, its entrance half-collapsed, making it look like a dead end.

The terminal map shows that the rock structure changes 300 meters down from this road.

It's no longer the dog-chewed, chipped marks of a spirit stone mine.

It's something else.

He crouched down and squeezed into the narrow passage. After walking for about the time it takes to smoke a pipe, the surroundings began to change.

The rock walls on both sides, originally rough and uneven natural stones, gradually developed smooth cut surfaces. At first, there were only a few scattered spots, as if they had been carelessly scraped by something. After walking a few dozen steps, those cut surfaces merged into a continuous stretch. In the end, the entire passageway became smooth, flat black walls, with sharp edges and right angles at every turn.

Xie Yanchen stopped and reached out to touch the wall.

It was cold.

The material was no longer stone; it was a black material he couldn't recognize, resembling some kind of refined metal, yet heavier and duller. Its surface had extremely fine lines, almost invisible to the naked eye; only when you pressed your fingertip against it could you feel the abnormally precise processing marks.

He stared at the pattern for several seconds.

In the cultivation world, mining is done using spiritual energy to blast mountains and magical swords to split rocks, resulting in crooked and twisted mine shafts with large cracks and cleavage scars on the rock walls. But this thing in front of me—its cut surface is as smooth as a mirror, its lines are straight, and its corners are so precise that it looks like it was measured with a ruler—exudes a cold, impersonal sense of order.

This wasn't dug by a human.

It wasn't dug up by people from this world.

Xie Yanchen withdrew his hand, subconsciously flexing his fingers, his knuckles making a slight cracking sound. This was his habit—he would do this when something was on his mind.

He took a deep breath and continued walking down.

The mine tunnels have completely disappeared.

In its place was a long, black corridor, wide enough for a horse-drawn carriage to pass through. It was made of an unknown black material, so smooth it reflected blurry human silhouettes. A row of neat recesses hung overhead, presumably for lighting, but now they were all extinguished, leaving only a deathly silence.

How quiet?

He could hear his own heartbeat, "thump, thump, thump," each beat distinctly clear in the long, dark corridor that led to who-knows-where.

My heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Xie Yanchen stopped in his tracks.

The terminal's information appeared line by line in his field of vision—the structure, material composition, and processing technology of this channel were of the same origin as the Terminal Zero on his body.

homology.

The word was like a stone thrown into a calm lake. He felt a tightness in his throat, and his jaw involuntarily tensed.

Three years ago, he inexplicably transmigrated to this cultivation world, waking up to find a Zero Terminal installed in his brain. It could scan, analyze, and model; the entire world seemed naked before it. He always thought he'd struck gold, found a cheat code.

But now the terminal is telling him that this underground passage, which has been sealed for who knows how many years, is in cahoots with it.

So what exactly is this terminal?

What is this world?

Spiritual energy, cultivation techniques, ascension, immortality—could all these things that cultivators desperately pursue be nothing more than a stage set up by someone else from beginning to end? And are all the beings performing on this stage completely unaware of it?

Xie Yanchen clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He stared at the thick darkness at the end of the corridor, his heart pounding even faster.

He wants to go in right now.

Let's see what lies at the end of this passage, what the mastermind behind this experimental field looks like, and what the truth of this world really is.

Half a step has already been taken.

Then it stopped.

He looked down at the foot he had stepped out with, remained silent for a few seconds, and then slowly pulled it back.

A passage to another realm, sealed for countless years, remains hidden within, its contents unknown. Mechanisms? Guards? Or something else left behind by the "builders"? With his current cultivation level, venturing deeper would most likely only add another skeleton to this dark corridor.

It's not worth it.

He glanced at the darkness again, then slowly loosened his fist.

Because my fingers were clenched so tightly, my palms were marked with several white marks from my fingernails.

He meticulously recorded the coordinates, terrain, and every detail of this place into the terminal's records. Every scratch, every corner, the texture of the black material, the spacing of the grooves on the top—he noted it all down.

Then turn around.

We walked back step by step.

The darkness behind him remained as silent as ever, as if it had never been disturbed. But he knew it was there, waiting for him.

As I stepped out of the mine, the sunlight shone directly onto my face.

Xie Yanchen squinted, raised his hand to shield his eyes, and only lowered them after his eyes had adjusted.

The mist on the back mountain had dissipated considerably, and the birds in the woods had started chirping again sometime during the day. In the distance, one could vaguely hear a few disciples talking, their voices tinged with laughter, probably someone had hunted something good.

Everything seemed peaceful, serene, and tranquil.

Like a painting.

Xie Yanchen looked up at the sky.

The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the spiritual energy flowed slowly along a certain fixed trajectory, so perfect that there was no fault to be found.

so perfect.

It's so perfect it seems fake.

He stared for a long time, then looked away. His lips twitched, but it wasn't a smile; it was a very faint expression that others couldn't decipher.

Then tear it up.

He didn't say it aloud, but just thought it to himself. Then he shook the dust off his robes and walked towards the sect, stepping on the dappled sunlight along the mountain path.

The mine entrance behind us remained dark and gaping open, like some kind of meaningful hint.

Xie Yanchen did not turn around.