I Can Only Cultivate In A Game

Chapter 364: Imposter

Author's Note: Do Not Unlock Yet. Chapter Is Still Under Construction.

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"They deserve it!" the entity roared. "They inherited the sin!"

Victor shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "Sin isn't genetic. Guilt doesn't pass through bloodlines."

The entity's form trembled.

"They benefited," it argued. "They lived in warmth and safety while the dead screamed unheard."

"And now you're proving you learned nothing," Victor shot back. "You're not justice. You're vengeance trapped in a loop."

Silence fell again.

The storm howled around them.

Victor took a step forward.

"I won't deny your pain," he said. "I won't excuse what they did. But extermination isn't balance—it's surrender. It means the ones who died meant nothing except fuel for more death."

The corrupt entity's voice lowered.

"Then what would you have me do?" it asked. "Forgive them?"

Victor hesitated.

"No," he admitted. "Forgiveness isn't mine to demand."

He raised his sword—not threateningly, but solemnly.

"But there are prices besides annihilation. Debts besides extinction."

The corrupt entity stared at him, rage and doubt colliding violently within its core.

For the first time—

It wavered.

Not in power.

But in certainty.

And Victor knew—

This battle would not be decided by strength alone.

---sss

The air itself had begun to rot.

Victor felt it before he saw it—the subtle wrongness creeping through the battlefield like an invasive thought. Corruption no longer merely lashed outward in waves or manifested as claws and teeth. It seeped. It bled into the environment, into flesh, into spirit.

Kahr'uun warriors staggered.

Blue-tinged skin darkened to sickly shades of black and violet as corruption crawled along their veins like living ink. Some dropped their weapons, clutching their heads as their magic destabilized. Others screamed as frost hardened around their limbs, only to crack apart moments later under internal decay.

One warrior fell to his knees, eyes wide with terror.

"I—I can't feel my mana..."

Another collapsed entirely, breath rattling as corruption flooded his meridians.

Victor turned sharply, horror flaring in his chest.

This wasn't just slaughter anymore.

It was conversion.

The corrupt entity stood at the epicenter, its beastly form expanding, breathing heavily as black mist pulsed from its core. The longer it remained, the more the land itself became an extension of its hatred.

Time was running out.

Victor gritted his teeth.

If this continued, there wouldn't be anyone left to save—innocent or guilty.

He needed an answer. Now.

His mind raced.

Killing the entity would only validate its hatred, sealing the cycle forever. Letting it rampage would annihilate the Kahr'uun entirely. Reason had failed. Philosophy had reached its limit.

That left only one option.

A dangerous one.

A reckless one.

Victor inhaled deeply—and then stopped holding back.

His Nascent Soul Realm aura erupted outward in a blinding surge.

The ground cracked.

The air screamed.

An overwhelming pressure slammed into the battlefield as Victor's cultivation fully unfurled, no longer restrained or concealed. His presence became suffocating—vast, ancient, and sharp, like a blade forged from condensed will.

Kahr'uun warriors gasped, some collapsing under the sheer pressure. Even the corrupt entity recoiled slightly, its massive form shuddering as it turned its full attention to Victor.

"What are you doing?" it snarled.

Victor didn't answer.

He reached inward.

Deep past flesh and bone—past meridians and dantian—into the inner bank of his soul, where fragments of his true self lay dormant. Where contracts were written not in ink, but in essence.

A soul bond.

His fingers trembled.

This was madness.

Soul bonds were meant for beasts—spiritual creatures with instinctual hierarchies, not sentient beings forged from hatred and betrayal. Even then, failure could result in backlash severe enough to cripple or outright destroy a cultivator's soul.

And this wasn't just any beast.

This was a being born from mass sacrifice, sustained by resentment, empowered by corruption older than Victor's current life.

Yet—

Right now, it was in beast form.

That was the only opening.

Victor extended his will outward, shaping it carefully, precisely, forming the intricate spiritual framework of a soul bond technique. Symbols burned into existence around him—ancient sigils carved from intent rather than mana.

"Don't," Rhozan rasped weakly from where he lay. "Iruhun... you don't know what that thing will do to you—"

Too late.

Victor thrust the soul bond forward.

The world tilted.

The moment the bond made contact, Victor felt like his mind had been ripped open.

Agony exploded behind his eyes.

He staggered, blood trickling from his nose as a tsunami of foreign sensation crashed into his consciousness.

Hatred.

So much hatred.

It wasn't a simple emotion—it was layered, complex, refined over decades. Rage braided with grief. Despair sharpened into purpose. Victor felt the weight of forty years of resentment slam into him like a mountain.

The corrupt entity roared.

"What are you doing to me?!" it bellowed as the sigils latched onto its form, glowing violently as the bond attempted to establish dominance.

Victor dropped to one knee, teeth clenched so hard they threatened to shatter.

Inside—

He was falling.

Pulled into a mental battlefield far more terrifying than the physical one.

He stood within a vast void of black ice and screaming wind. Towering before him was the true presence of the corrupt entity—not a beast, but a towering silhouette stitched together from shadows, memories, and countless screaming faces.

This was its soulscape.

And Victor was an intruder.

"You dare?" the entity thundered. "You think you can chain me like an animal?!"

Victor forced himself upright, pain lancing through his skull.

"I'm not trying to chain you," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to stop this from ending in annihilation."

The entity surged forward.

The impact was catastrophic.

Victor felt his consciousness fracture as memories flooded him again—faster, harsher, more violent. The sacrifices. The screams. The betrayal. Over and over and over.

His vision blurred.

For a moment, he almost lost himself.

Almost drowned.

But then—

Something anchored him.

A faint pulse.

From deep within.

Victor's eyes snapped open.

His Nascent Soul flared.

A radiant, defiant light burst forth from his core, pushing back the darkness. His soul—still young, still growing—stood firm, forged not from ancient resentment, but from choice.

"You don't get to decide the fate of innocents," Victor growled. "Not because you suffered. Not because you were wronged."

The entity laughed bitterly.

"And who made you judge?"

Victor met its gaze.

"Someone who's been used as a tool before," he said. "Someone who's seen how easy it is to justify cruelty when you dress it up as righteousness."

The corrupt entity snarled and struck again—this time aiming directly at Victor's Nascent Soul.

Victor screamed.

The pain was indescribable.

It felt like claws scraping directly against his essence, trying to tear him apart from the inside. His soul bond framework flickered violently, threatening to collapse.

Outside, Victor's body convulsed.

Kahr'uun warriors stared in horror as cracks of light and darkness rippled across his skin. Frost formed beneath him, then shattered instantly.

"He's fighting it mentally..." someone whispered.

"Is he insane?!"

Inside the soulscape, Victor was on his knees.

Blood—or something like it—dripped from his mouth.

The entity loomed over him.

"You cannot dominate me," it hissed. "I am not a beast. I am vengeance given form."

Victor laughed weakly.

"Then stop acting like one."

The words struck deeper than any attack.

The entity faltered.

Just for an instant.

Victor seized it.

He slammed his palm into the ground, forcing his will outward. The soul bond sigils flared brilliantly, threads of luminous energy latching deeper into the entity's essence—not dominating, but binding.

Not ownership.

Responsibility.

"I'm not making you my slave," Victor said, voice shaking but resolute. "I'm making you my burden."

The corrupt entity screamed as the bond tightened—not crushing, but constraining, forcing alignment.

"You will not kill indiscriminately," Victor continued. "You will not consume innocents. If you seek retribution—then it will be measured. Directed. And it will end."

The entity fought harder than ever, rage boiling over, hatred clawing desperately at Victor's soul.

But Victor did not retreat.

He endured.

Because if he failed—

Everyone here would die.

And if he succeeded—

He would carry the weight of this sin with him forever.

The soul bond trembled violently.

Cracks spread through the soulscape.

And then—

Something clicked.

The hatred did not vanish.

But it stilled.

Just a little.

Enough.

Victor collapsed fully, gasping for breath as the bond stabilized—imperfect, unstable, but alive.

Outside, the corrupt entity staggered back, its form shuddering violently.

The battlefield fell silent.

Both sides stared.

Victor lay in the snow, chest heaving, eyes burning with exhaustion.

The bond had taken hold.

Not completely.

Not safely.

But it was there.

And now—

Victor had bound himself to the very embodiment of the Kahr'uun's sin.

Whether it would lead to salvation—

Or damnation—

Remained to be seen.

---sss

Victor's body convulsed violently.

Frost shattered beneath him again and again as uncontrollable tremors wracked his limbs. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale burning like knives of ice in his lungs. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, staining the snow beneath his face a dark, ugly red.

Inside him, the soul bond was tearing itself apart.

Too much.

It was all too much.

The hatred flooding through the bond was not a single raging river—it was an ocean, ancient and bottomless, pressing down on his mind from every direction. Victor felt his thoughts fragmenting, his consciousness slipping as memories that were not his own clawed at his sanity.

Screams.

Fire.

The desperate cries of unborn lives extinguished before they ever saw the sky.

Victor cried out, clutching his head as his Nascent Soul flickered violently, its glow dimming under the overwhelming pressure. His vision blurred, reality distorting as his mental battlefield shook.

I'm losing...

He knew it instinctively.

The bond was failing.

The corrupt entity's hatred was deeper than he had imagined—deeper than reason, deeper than logic, deeper even than vengeance. It wasn't simply rage; it was an identity forged from suffering. To strip it away meant stripping away the very thing that defined its existence.

The entity's voice thundered through Victor's mind.

"You cannot contain me," it roared. "Your compassion is weakness. Your mercy is an insult to the dead!"