"Wow…" Xuefeng muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as the flood of memories from his body's previous owner settled into place. It was like trying to cram the contents of an ocean into a teacup—his mind swirled with the sheer scope of it all.
"This world is… amazing."
The words tasted strange as they left his mouth. He struggled to reconcile the awe blooming in his chest with the stark, almost alien reality of his situation. Retaining the memories of his predecessor was a blessing, yes, but it also carried the weight of expectations he hadn't signed up for.
The body he now inhabited belonged to Liu Xuefeng, son of Liu Xiaobei, leader of the powerful Liu Clan. It was a name uncannily close to his own—one of many ironies that this new life seemed intent on throwing his way.
The world, dubbed the Earth Realm, was vast—larger than anything he had known in his previous life. Phoenix City was nestled in Aurora, a sprawling nation said to rival China in size, yet it was merely one piece of a colossal, uncharted mosaic.
"I wonder how big the other countries are…" Xuefeng murmured, the thought both exhilarating and daunting. His imagination wandered, trying to grasp the sheer scale of this place, when another realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
"I actually reincarnated into a cultivation world!"
The excitement spilled out in a giddy laugh, echoing softly in the spacious room. The concept of cultivation—a fantasy back on Earth—was a living, breathing reality here. The power to extend one's life, to manipulate energy, to transcend mortality itself—it was all real.
And he was here.
Despite the euphoria bubbling within him, Xuefeng couldn't ignore the sobering reality woven into the memories he'd absorbed. Strength was everything in this world. Justice, morality, right and wrong—none of it mattered unless you had the power to enforce it.
"I guess I'll have to tread carefully," he muttered, his tone darkening. "At least for now."
The other shoe dropped quickly enough. His predecessor, as it turned out, had been born with a broken dantian, the spiritual core necessary for cultivating. In a world where strength ruled, Xuefeng's body had been a crippled vessel, an outcast's curse.
"Perfect," Xuefeng said dryly, glancing toward the ceiling as though expecting some cosmic deity to answer. "Really hoping the whole reincarnation thing fixed that." He let out a sigh. "Because if I'm stuck here and I can't even use magic, that's just cruel."
As if the universe sought to answer him, the door creaked open. A young woman entered, her footsteps hesitant, her brown eyes widening as they landed on him.
"Young Master!" she cried, her voice high and sweet, yet tinged with panic. "You can't be standing! You need to rest!"
Xuefeng turned to face her fully, his heart skipping at the sight. Her face was warm, familiar—a name surfaced unbidden from the flood of memories.
"Wuying," he said, the syllables falling from his lips as naturally as breathing.
The girl's eyes shimmered, her worry written plainly across her features as she rushed to his side. "Please, lie down," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "You've only just recovered!"
"I'm fine," Xuefeng replied gently, hoping to ease her anxiety. He placed a hand on his chest for emphasis. "See? All healed."
Her fingers brushed against his bare chest, searching for signs of the injury that had nearly killed him. Her brow furrowed in disbelief. "Young Master, the wound was deep—there's no way it could've healed like this. Not without leaving a scar."
Xuefeng's mind raced for an explanation, and he forced a sheepish smile. "Must've been all the care you gave me," he said smoothly. "Guess I owe you my life."
The blush that rose to Wuying's cheeks was instant. She pulled her hand away, her gaze darting to the floor as she stammered, "I didn't… I mean, it wasn't just me…"
Her voice broke as she flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I was so scared," she whispered, her words muffled against his chest. "I couldn't sleep—I thought I was going to lose you."
Xuefeng froze, his breath catching as her warmth pressed against him. The memories of his predecessor stirred, clawing at his emotions. The old Xuefeng's love for this girl ran deep, and for a moment, he felt it, raw and aching.
He patted her back awkwardly, his voice soft. "I'm sorry for worrying you. But I'm okay now. Really."
They stayed that way, her quiet sobs the only sound in the room, until Wuying finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed. "I… I should go tell Milady you're awake," she said hurriedly, avoiding his gaze as she bolted for the door.
When the door clicked shut, Xuefeng exhaled, leaning back against the bedframe.
"So this is the girl you fell for," he murmured to the empty room. "Guess I can't blame you. But I can't let your feelings mess with my head. They're not mine."
His self-reflection was cut short by the sound of hurried footsteps. The door slammed open, and two figures entered—a tall man with a stern, commanding presence, and a woman whose beauty was matched only by the sharpness of her gaze.
His parents.
"Feng'er," his mother said, her voice steady as her eyes swept over him, "Wuying said you've recovered. We came to see for ourselves."
She approached quickly, her hands cool and meticulous as they searched his body for injuries. Xuefeng felt her energy probing him, testing for weaknesses.
"How…" she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes widened. "How did you recover so quickly?"
Xuefeng had spent the last few minutes concocting an answer, and he delivered it smoothly. "I remembered I had a medicine pill. An old beggar gave it to me as thanks after I bought him a loaf of bread. I guess I must've swallowed it in the chaos when I was hurt."
His father, Liu Xiaobei, raised an eyebrow. "A medicine pill? That's quite the tale."
"Is there any other possible explanation?" Xuefeng questioned quickly, leaning forward as if to confide in him. "Not only did it heal me, but I think it fixed my dantian too. Could you check for me, Father?"
Xiaobei's eyes narrowed, but he extended his hand. The moment their palms touched, energy flowed between them, sharp and electric.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Xiaobei laughed—a booming, joyous sound that echoed through the room.
"It's true!" he roared, turning to his wife. "His dantian is whole!"
Mu Lan gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She stepped forward, placing her own hand on her son's chest to confirm it. When she felt the pulse of life energy, her eyes filled with tears.
"Feng'er," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "You can cultivate now. You can finally fulfill your potential."
"Let's see which bastard dares to call my son trash again!" Liu Xiaobei's voice thundered through the room, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. It wasn't just anger—there was vindication there too, a triumph born from years of enduring the whispers, the sneers, and the thinly veiled contempt.
"Feng'er, there will be a Spirit Awakening Ceremony for all ten-year-olds in two days," Mu Lan interjected, her voice a calming counterpoint to her husband's fiery enthusiasm. "You're older than most participants, but it doesn't matter. Once your spirit awakens, you'll finally be able to cultivate."
Xuefeng nodded as fragmented memories of the ceremony surfaced in his mind. He pieced them together quickly—an event that marked the beginning of a cultivator's journey, a rite of passage most underwent as children. But he had been denied that milestone, his broken dantian branding him an outcast before he even had a chance to try.
Now, he was no longer the broken heir. Now, he could begin.
"That's right!" Liu Xiaobei said, snapping his fingers. "I'll contact the Resource Department Elder immediately. My son is finally able to cultivate, and he'll get everything he's entitled to. It's about time he received his share."
Xuefeng watched as his father's face lit up with unrestrained excitement, the years of worry and disappointment melting away in an instant. It was as if the news had shaved a decade off his features. His energy was infectious, almost overwhelming, but Xuefeng merely nodded, letting the man have his moment.
"Rest for now," Liu Xiaobei continued, his tone softening. "We'll handle everything. Tomorrow, I'll send someone to teach you the basics of cultivation."
"Understood," Xuefeng replied with a faint smile, watching as his parents left the room, their joy still palpable.
The door clicked shut. The smiles vanished.
Liu Xiaobei's expression hardened as he turned to the shadow stretching across the floor. "Shadow," he called, his voice low and commanding.
The shadow twisted and elongated unnaturally, coalescing into a figure cloaked in black. The man knelt silently, his face obscured by a mask.
"Yes, my lord," came the reply, his tone as dark as his attire.
"Did you hear what my son said?" Liu Xiaobei didn't wait for a response, his words sharp and precise. "Investigate. I want answers in a day."
"As you command." The figure bowed low before dissolving into the shadows, vanishing as if he'd never been there.
Mu Lan had been silent, but the tension in her posture betrayed her thoughts. It wasn't until they reached the privacy of their bedroom that she finally spoke.
"Only third-rank pills or higher can repair a broken dantian," she began, pacing the room with measured steps. Her voice was calm, but her words carried an edge. "And there's only one alchemist in Aurora capable of crafting such a pill. But he's in the capital, far from Phoenix City. He wouldn't be disguised as a beggar handing out third-rank pills for bread."
Her sharp gaze locked onto her husband. "He lied to us."
Liu Xiaobei nodded grimly. "We'll know the truth soon enough. Perhaps Wuying can get him to talk. They've grown close."
Mu Lan's glare could have pierced steel. She stepped forward and slapped him on the shoulder, her frustration spilling over. "And if he didn't lie? If it wasn't a healing pill but poison? What use is your Shadow Guard if they can't protect their charge?"
He opened his mouth to retort but stopped short, her words landing like blows. She wasn't done.
"Speaking of protection," she continued, her voice tightening, "where was Wuying when he was injured? Am I supposed to believe he was hurt during training? You need to stop making excuses and address the real threats, especially now that his dantian has recovered."
If anyone outside their home could see the mighty clan leader being dressed down by his wife, they'd never believe it. But Liu Xiaobei didn't dare push back. Mu Lan wasn't just stronger than him—she was leagues beyond him, a fact she rarely flaunted but never allowed him to forget.
"Wuying stays," she added, her tone brooking no argument. "No missions, no training. She'll guard our son at all times."
"She's the leader of my Shadow Guard," Liu Xiaobei began weakly. "She has responsibilities—"
The icy glare Mu Lan shot him was enough to make him falter. He sighed heavily, the fight draining out of him. "Fine. Whatever you say."
Their exchange might have ended there, but a darker thread ran beneath the surface. As they prepared for bed, Mu Lan's voice softened, though her words lost none of their weight.
"Only the most skilled alchemists can make a third-rank pill," she mused aloud. "And I've asked for one before—offered fortunes for it. Always refused. So why would my son have one, given to him so freely?"
Her husband frowned. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm saying," Mu Lan replied, her tone deliberate and edged with suspicion, "whoever gave him that pill must have had a reason for doing so."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the unspoken possibilities lingering like a shadow between them. Liu Xiaobei's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. "We'll find out," he said finally, his voice a low, steady promise. "And if there's a danger we haven't seen yet, we'll eliminate it."