The Omnipotent System

Chapter 38  Recruiting Disciples

Charles of Homewater dashed through the dense forest, the wind whipping past him as he laughed with the thrill of the chase. His heart raced, not just from the exertion, but from the exhilaration of eluding his pursuers. At just sixteen years old, Charles had already earned a reputation in Homewater as a swift and cunning runner, earning him the nickname "the Cheetah of Homewater." Despite being only a rank 3 cultivator, he moved with the grace and speed of someone far more experienced.

"Hahahahaha! Come and catch me if you can! I'll show you why I'm called the cheetah of Homewater!" he taunted, his voice echoing through the towering trees.

Behind him, a large, out-of-breath man bellowed in frustration, his face red with exertion and anger. "You brat! Laugh while you still can because when I get you, you'll be sorry for your miserable life!"

Charles shot a quick glance over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hahaha! No matter how hard you try, you can never get close to me, let alone catch me!"

Suddenly, a sharp thud resounded through the forest, causing Charles to stumble. He tripped over a root and tumbled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

"Get him!" the fat man shouted to his guards. "He just fell down right now. Don't let him get away if you want to receive your pay today!"

Charles lay still for a moment, cursing under his breath as he regained his senses. "Shit, what was that?" he muttered, bewildered. In front of him hovered a piece of paper, seemingly suspended in midair. No matter which way he turned, the paper followed him, as if it was meant specifically for him.

Before he could dwell on the strange occurrence, the angry voices of his pursuers grew louder. Snatching the paper, Charles scrambled to his feet and sprinted away, barely escaping the men who chased him.

"Damn it, we lost him," one of the guards grumbled, frustration clear in his voice. "How are we going to face that bastard now?"

Another guard shrugged, sneering at their absent employer. "We'll just say he played us. He threw a heavy rock to trick us into thinking he fell, then ran off in another direction before we got here."

The third guard chuckled, clapping his companion on the back. "Hahaha, I always knew you were smart."

"Hahaha, what can I say? I was born this way," the other replied with a grin.

The group of three men made their way back to their leader, their fate uncertain as they pondered the inevitable confrontation with their boss.

---

Deep within a hidden cave, Charles finally stopped to catch his breath. "Hah, hah, hah, that was a close one," he said to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But fortunately, I'm quick-witted enough to escape them."

His mind returned to the strange piece of paper that had nearly led to his capture. Taking it out, he examined it more closely. It was a letter, and to his astonishment, it was addressed to him personally.

"How is this possible?" Charles wondered aloud, curiosity piqued. "Am I a secret heir to a powerful clan or something? Could this be one of those mysterious encounters where a beggar becomes rich overnight?"

He recalled the tales he had heard in his town, stories of ordinary people who had stumbled upon life-changing opportunities, often through mysterious means. His heart raced with the possibility that he might be experiencing one of those fabled moments.

Eagerly, he unfolded the letter and read:

---

*Charles of Homewater,*

*You are among the lucky ones chosen to become a disciple of our sect. To join us, place a drop of your blood on this letter. A portal will appear before you, leading you to the sect once you step through it.*

---

"Huh, what is this?" Charles said, frowning at the simplicity of the letter. "They didn't even bother to write the name of the sect. And why is it so simple? Shouldn't it be grand to excite the reader about the prospect of joining a powerful and mysterious sect? The person who wrote this is a fool who can't even place their sect in a good light. This might even be a scam."

Despite his skepticism, something deep within him urged him to follow the instructions. "Well, it's not like I have anything to lose, so I might as well take my chances."

Determined, he bit his finger, drawing a bead of blood. He pressed the bleeding finger to the letter. As soon as he did, a shimmering portal materialized before him.

"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered, stepping through the portal.

---

Meanwhile, across the Divine Plane, similar events unfolded as young people of diverse backgrounds received identical letters.

In the bustling city of Everpeak, a girl named Elara was training diligently in the art of swordsmanship. She was known for her unmatched skill and dedication, despite her humble beginnings. Her parents had always struggled to make ends meet, but Elara refused to let that define her future. She was determined to become a renowned warrior, and her talent had already begun to attract attention.

After an exhausting practice session, Elara retired to her room, wiping sweat from her brow. As she sat down to rest, she noticed an envelope lying on her bed, its seal shimmering with a strange light. Intrigued, she opened the letter and read the contents:

---

*Elara of Everpeak,* n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

*You are among the lucky ones chosen to become a disciple of our sect. To join us, place a drop of your blood on this letter. A portal will appear before you, leading you to the sect once you step through it.*

---

Elara frowned, uncertain what to make of the mysterious invitation. "This must be some kind of trick," she thought, dismissing the notion of joining an unknown sect.

Yet, something within her urged her to consider the opportunity. After a moment of hesitation, she pricked her finger with the tip of her sword and let a drop of blood fall onto the letter. Instantly, a portal opened in the middle of her room, swirling with ethereal colors.

Taking a deep breath, Elara sheathed her sword and stepped into the portal, her heart filled with both excitement and apprehension.

---

In the serene village of Windholm, a young scholar named Arin spent his days buried in books. His love for knowledge and magic was unparalleled, but opportunities to further his studies were scarce in his remote village. One day, while he was engrossed in a particularly intriguing tome about ancient runes, a peculiar envelope drifted through the open window and landed on his desk.

Curious, Arin set aside his book and examined the letter. As he read its contents, his mind raced with possibilities:

---

*Arin of Windholm,*

*You are among the lucky ones chosen to become a disciple of our sect. To join us, place a drop of your blood on this letter. A portal will appear before you, leading you to the sect once you step through it.*

---

"This is unbelievable," Arin murmured, unable to contain his excitement. "Could this be the opportunity I've been waiting for?"

His hands trembled slightly as he nicked his finger with a quill and let a drop of blood fall onto the letter. The portal that appeared before him shimmered with magical energy, calling to the depths of his soul.

Gathering his courage, Arin stepped through the portal, leaving behind his quiet village for a new and unknown future.

---

In the bustling marketplace of Stormhaven, a mischievous thief named Kael was weaving through the crowd, expertly picking pockets without drawing attention to himself. Kael prided himself on his nimble fingers and quick reflexes, skills he had honed over years of living on the streets.

As he ducked into an alleyway to count his haul, a strange letter fluttered down from above, landing at his feet. Annoyed at the interruption, Kael snatched up the letter, intending to toss it aside. However, the elegant script on the envelope caught his eye, and he couldn't resist reading its message:

---

*Kael of Stormhaven,*

*You are among the lucky ones chosen to become a disciple of our sect. To join us, place a drop of your blood on this letter. A portal will appear before you, leading you to the sect once you step through it.*

---

Kael laughed incredulously, shaking his head. "Me? Join a sect? What kind of joke is this?"

Yet, the prospect of a new adventure stirred something within him, a yearning for change that he couldn't quite ignore. Shrugging, Kael decided to take the plunge. He pricked his finger with a hidden dagger, let a drop of blood fall onto the letter, and watched as a portal materialized before him.

"Well, why not?" he said with a grin, stepping into the portal without hesitation.

---

As Charles, Elara, Arin, Kael, and countless others stepped through their portals, they were transported to the heart of the Primordial Chaos Sect. The sect was a breathtaking expanse of natural beauty and architectural splendor, unlike anything they had ever seen before.

The sect's vast grounds were dotted with lush gardens, shimmering lakes, and towering structures, each radiating an aura of ancient power. The air was alive with magic, a palpable energy that invigorated their spirits and heightened their senses.