The world has never truly changed—only the way humans understand it has. To the eyes of ordinary people, this is a modern era defined by steel and glass, information and electricity. Cities stretch endlessly, governments rule by law, and science claims to have measured every mystery. Yet beneath the humming of servers and traffic lights, another world breathes quietly—older than history, hidden in plain sight. This is a world where Demonic and Righteous cultivators exist at the same time, sharing the same streets, breathing the same air, yet living by entirely different truths.

There is no clear boundary between the Mundane World (Thế Giới Người Thường) and the Cultivator World (Thế Giới Võ Giả). They overlap completely, separated only by awareness, authority, and power. A hospital may heal the sick during the day, yet at night serve as a spiritual recovery ground for wounded cultivators. A financial corporation may appear to chase profit, while secretly functioning as a resource pipeline for ancient sects. A quiet mountain town may sit atop a sealed battlefield where thousands once perished, its spiritual residue still whispering to those who listen. Ordinary humans call these coincidences. Cultivators call them arrangements.

The distinction between Righteous and Demonic is not one of morality, but of method. Righteous cultivators claim balance, order, and stability. They speak of protection, inheritance, and harmony. Their sects preserve ancient manuals, regulate disciples, and cooperate discreetly with governments. They avoid open slaughter, not out of mercy, but because chaos draws attention. Demonic cultivators pursue freedom, dominance, and acceleration. They devour resources without restraint, refine forbidden techniques, and reject imposed limits. Many hide within society as criminals, mercenaries, or shadows behind corporate power. Others walk openly, protected only by their strength. Both sides cultivate the same energy. Both seek transcendence. Both are willing to destroy the weak when necessary.

The age of mountains and isolated sects has ended. Spiritual energy is thinner now, diluted by concrete, pollution, and constant human activity. Natural Qi veins are fragmented, sealed beneath cities, or distorted by infrastructure. As a result, cultivators adapt. Ancient techniques are combined with modern science. Pills are mass-produced, though unstable. Artificial formations replace natural arrays. Spiritual artifacts are disguised as electronics. Bloodline awakenings are triggered through genetic manipulation rather than rituals. Power is no longer inherited solely by tradition—it can be manufactured, stolen, or forced. This has allowed more people to step onto the path… and more to die trying.

Most cultivators live cautiously, walking the thin line between ambition and restraint. Righteous sects fear decline in a world that no longer reveres them. Demonic paths grow stronger as scarcity pushes practitioners toward extremes. Governments fear both sides, yet rely on them when modern weapons fail. Ordinary humans live unaware, unknowingly benefiting from protection they never consented to. Occasionally, anomalies appear—individuals who grow too fast, resist suppression, or bend rules without consequence. Such existences unsettle both the Demonic and Righteous factions alike. Because history has proven one thing: When someone begins to ignore the limits of this world, something eventually notices.