The Rich Cultivator

The Abyss devours worlds. It is a boundless, insatiable force that consumes entire civilizations, leaving only remnants of what once was. In certain depths, one might stumble upon the echoes of lost worlds, where ancient ruins cling stubbornly to existence, slowly corroding away in the Abyss’s gluttonous embrace.

Mana soared through the air, her emerald eyes scanning the decayed structures beneath her. The remnants of an old civilization lay sprawled across the abyssal floor, their once-grand architecture now mere skeletons of stone and steel. Time had not been kind, nor had the Abyss, which seemed to relish the slow decay of its feast.

Below her, a shimmering protective array hummed faintly, shielding a small group from the corrosive influence of the Abyss.

"Which direction are we going?" Mathilda asked, arms crossed as she glanced at their leader.

Tyler reclined in his chair within the array’s safety, lazily sipping a cool, citrusy juice. "I randomly picked a direction from the compass. Let’s bet on luck. Once Mana returns, we can move forward."

A distant roar shattered the eerie stillness.

The ground trembled as a massive Abyss creature—a bear-like monstrosity with jagged, obsidian fur and molten cracks running along its hide—raged in the distance. The beast let out another agonized howl, swiping its colossal claws at the five Grandmaster-level cultivators battling it.

Mathilda turned, observing the skirmish with mild interest. "Still fighting that thing, huh?"

The Grandmasters, having regained their Aura and Mana after entering this region, resumed their duties as bodyguards. Their swift, calculated movements contrasted with the raw fury of the beast.

Tyler remained unbothered. "They’ll handle it."

Then, a voice echoed in his mind.