Chapter 68: The Uncontracted Genius

Orson stared at the crimson system window hovering before his eyes, a heavy, familiar frustration settling deep in his chest.

Difficult was putting it mildly.

First, the realm’s exit had locked down, sealing everyone inside with an Indigo Calamity. Second, he had just discovered that his junior sister from his past life had also been reincarnated into a new body—and retained her name.

And third, his internal cultivation was right on the verge of breaking through to the late stage of Qi Gathering. Attempting a breakthrough here, surrounded by violent killing intent and spatial distortion, was practically suicidal.

Orson let out a slow, quiet sigh. He had survived far worse horrors in his past life, yet the biting sense of helplessness felt exactly the same.

Why didn’t I just find Lenora before coming here? he thought bitterly. But he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

Nearby, Saint Barnabas scanned the frantic horizon. As the sole Saint present, he was undeniably the strongest entity on this side of the rift. In a crisis like this, every contractor should have been clinging to his every word—so why was this wet, blue-haired girl still staring at the uncontracted guy on the floor as if she wanted to butcher him?

Barnabas shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Calling for external backup is out of the question now. For better or worse, we have to face that Titan. With thousands of contractors stationed across this realm, we might actually stand a chance against the monster if we coordinate."

Rain turned her glare away from Orson for a split second to look at the Saint. "Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think we stand a chance. The last recorded scan categorized this breach as Azure-class, but now it’s an Indigo-class Dark One. Fighting an entity of that scale—even with everyone here—is practically a death sentence."

She paused, though Orson could still feel her murderous gaze burning into the side of his face. He kept his eyes shut tight, doing his absolute best to act like a stone wall.

"Besides," Rain continued, her voice grim, "the Titan is a walking storm of light-fire. We can’t even dream of landing a hit if we can’t get within a mile of its body without vaporizing."

Barnabas offered a confident, cocky grin. "Well, it’s not the only one here who knows a thing or two about heat."

Rain looked at him with plain skepticism. She doubted his contract could match a Titan whose very flames were woven from pure, primordial light.

---

Meanwhile, beneath the cover of the chaotic atmosphere, a sudden shift occurred inside Orson’s core.

Ambient spiritual energy—invisible to the astral technology of this era—flooded rapidly into his meridians. The stubborn bottleneck he had been nursing instantly shattered, pouring refined energy through his pathways as his cultivation surged upward to the late stage of Qi Gathering.

Because it was pure spiritual energy rather than Astral power, Saint Barnabas couldn’t identify the phenomenon—but the sudden localized shift in ambient pressure didn’t escape the Saint’s sharp senses.

Barnabas glanced down, squinting at Orson. "Hey... kid, is something wrong with you?"

Orson opened his eyes and forced a calm, innocent smile. "Oh, it’s nothing, sir."

As he looked up, his gaze accidentally caught Rain’s sharp, predatory eyes staring right back at him. Orson instantly slammed his eyes shut again, returning to his cross-legged state without skipping a beat.

The energy he had absorbed was already turning volatile within his meridians. Cultivating in a vacuum was one thing, but attempting to stabilize a breakthrough under the suffocating atmospheric pressure of an Indigo Calamity was complete insanity. Orson felt his blood flow backward in violent surges, his veins swelling beneath his skin like strained wires.

No pain, no gain... or was it ’with pain comes gain’? Orson gritted his teeth through the agony. *Whatever the hell it is, I just have to force it down.

The spiritual energy showed no signs of slowing. It surged into his stomach like a broken dam, piling pressure on top of pressure. His spiritual foundation expanded rapidly, his energy reserves swelling far beyond the standard limits of the late of Qi Gathering, threatening to burst his pathways entirely.

A few feet away, Saint Barnabas and Rain were still locked in intense discussion about their response to the sealed breach. Neither noticed the subtle, scorching aura beginning to radiate off the young man on the dirt.

Orson tasted iron as fresh blood welled up in the back of his throat. He clenched his jaw, swallowing it back down with brute force. His body grew blistering hot, heat rising from his skin in faint, distorted waves as he pushed his physical flesh to its absolute limits just to contain the expanding core within.

After what felt like an eternity of forcing his body to hold the line, the wild surge of spiritual energy finally hit its peak and snapped back. The chaotic torrent condensed into a crystal-clear stream, flowing fluidly through every meridian and completing a full, seamless circulation across his pathways.

Orson opened his eyes and exhaled a long, scorching breath of hot air.

Saint Barnabas and Rain immediately turned to look at him.

"Are you sure you’re okay, kid?" Barnabas asked, brow furrowed.

Orson forced a faint, easy smile. Of course I’m not, he thought dryly, but out loud he smoothed his tone into pure innocence. "I’m good. Don’t worry."

Quietly focusing inward, Orson inspected his core. He hadn’t just stabilized at the late stage—he had bypassed it entirely, landing squarely in the Peak Stage of Qi Gathering.

I jumped an entire stage again. Orson couldn’t help a dry inner chuckle. Everyone in District 12 had called him a useless, good-for-nothing civilian without an Astral contract, but this "useless" body was practically blessed by Heaven itself for ancient cultivation.

As he smirked to himself, a shadow fell over his vision.

Orson blinked, only to find a face dropping directly into his view. Rain stood right over him, her deep blue and black hair framing eyes sharp enough to slice through iron.

"So, War God... long time no see," Rain whispered, her voice dripping with venom. "I guess killing someone makes you forget about them pretty quickly."

Orson looked at her, then glanced around. Saint Barnabas was nowhere to be seen—likely off trying to rally the frantic contractors across the realm. It was just the two of them.

The silence stretched between them beneath the dim, five-sun sky.

Orson let out a soft, tired sigh. Instead of pulling away or adopting a defensive stance, he reached up with a calm, familiar gesture and roughly ruffled her wet, tangled hair—just as he used to do centuries ago.

He looked up into her furious eyes, a genuine, warm smile breaking across his face that caught her entirely off guard.

"Hi, Rain," Orson said softly, his voice carrying the gentle weight of a brother who had missed her. "Long time no see."

Rain froze, completely speechless. The icy, murderous rage in her eyes fractured, and despite herself, a faint, undeniable blush flushed across her cheeks as she stared down at her former brother.