Yang Feng's eyes stared at the flickering flames beneath the pot, their orange and yellow hues dancing in the low light of the cabin. The fire crackled softly, its sound mingling with the bubbling of the broth. He had spent the last few hours preparing the meal, cutting the meat and skinning the antelope with precision, but now, with nothing left to do, his thoughts drifted back to the question that had been haunting him ever since his rebirth.
*How did I end up here?*
The question swirled in his mind, and his thoughts returned to the day two years ago when everything changed. He had been just a normal boy back then, living an unremarkable life in a quiet village. He was only ten years old at the time, and his life revolved around his father, Bai Feng.
Bai Feng was a gruff man, a woodcutter by trade. Yang Feng could remember his father coming home each evening with a heavy load of wood on his back, his face grim and worn from the day's labor. He had always been the only parent Yang Feng ever knew. There was no memory of his mother, no recollection of what she looked like or where she had gone. All his life, it had been just him and his father, Bai Feng, who, despite his rough demeanor, had taught Yang Feng everything he knew about surviving in the world.
Life had always been hard for them. Bai Feng would cut wood in the nearby forest, carrying it to the village to sell it for a small amount of money. It was never enough. Their earnings were barely enough to sustain them, but Bai Feng had managed to keep food on the table, even if it was scarce. But beyond the physical hardships, Yang Feng always sensed a sadness within his father. Bai Feng was always grumpy, a man of few words, but when he did speak to his son, it was always in a serious tone, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
Yang Feng had taken up most of the household chores from a young age. His father was too busy, too consumed by his work and, sometimes, his wine. Bai Feng often sat by the fire with a bottle in hand, staring into the distance, his mind seemingly far away. Yang Feng had never dared to ask what troubled his father so deeply, but he had always wondered. The sadness in Bai Feng's eyes spoke of a great loss, though Yang Feng had no idea what that loss might be. His father never spoke of the past, and Yang Feng had learned not to pry.
Then, two years ago, everything had changed.
Yang Feng had been out in the forest, trying to catch a rabbit for their dinner. It had been a normal day, much like any other, but as he chased the rabbit through the underbrush, he had found himself nearing the edge of a cliff. The rabbit had darted towards the precipice, and in his excitement, Yang Feng had followed without thinking.
His foot had slipped on the loose gravel at the cliff's edge, and before he could catch himself, he had fallen. The world had spun around him as he tumbled through the air, hitting his head hard against the jagged rocks halfway down. His vision had gone dark, and the last thing he remembered was the feeling of weightlessness before everything faded to black.
Yang Feng had been unconscious for five days.
When he woke up, everything was different. His memories, his identity, had all come flooding back to him. He was no longer just Yang Feng, the son of Bai Feng, the woodcutter. He was Immortal Prince Yang Feng of the Azure Domain, heir to the Thunder God's full inheritance, a being of immense power. His memories of his life in the upper realms, of the war with the Celestials, and of Ling Bing's betrayal all came rushing back in vivid detail.
The powers he had once wielded were his once again. He could feel the dormant strength within him, the Qi that surged through his veins. His abilities, too, had returned, though they were a faint echo of what they once had been. The Thunder Step, his lightning-fast movement technique, was once more at his command, as were his double pupils, which allowed him to see and sense things beyond the ordinary.
Bai Feng had been furious when Yang Feng awoke, not because of his strange powers or memories, but because his son had nearly died. After Yang Feng regained his strength, his father had taken it upon himself to teach him how to hunt properly, to ensure that such a dangerous incident would never happen again. It was an odd sort of care that Bai Feng showed, but it was care nonetheless.
Yang Feng had taken his father's lessons to heart. He had grown proficient at hunting, often venturing deep into the forest to track game. But more than that, he had begun to explore his abilities in secret. He would return to the cliffs where he had fallen, using the isolation to cultivate his powers, trying to reclaim the strength he had once had in the Azure Domain.
Yet, despite his efforts, he quickly realized that this world was vastly different from the one he had come from. The Qi in the air was faint, almost non-existent compared to the dense, rich energy of the upper realms. Here, in this remote place, it would take him a lifetime to recover his former strength. Without the aid of a sect or a domain with powerful Qi reserves, his progress was painfully slow.
And that led to the greatest question of all: *Where am I?*
Yang Feng had no idea if this was a different domain altogether, a hidden village in the Azure Domain, or even the afterlife. He had considered all these possibilities, yet none of them seemed to provide any answers. Every time he tried to piece together his situation, more questions arose, leaving him in a perpetual state of uncertainty.
The fact that he had been reborn into a new life was undeniable, but why? Why had he, of all people, been given another chance? What had caused his soul to be reincarnated, and why was he now the son of a humble woodcutter in this strange place? The questions swirled in his mind as he stirred the pot, watching the steam rise into the air.
Yang Feng dipped a ladle into the pot, filling a small bowl with the fragrant meat soup. The scent of the broth was rich and hearty, a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts that weighed on his mind. As he lifted the bowl to his lips, he couldn't help but think back to his mother and Xiao Mei.
Had they survived?
The thought gnawed at him. He had absorbed most of the negative Qi during that final battle, but there had still been enough energy left to cause significant destruction. The arena had been completely obliterated, but he reassured himself with the knowledge that the Realm King had been present. Surely, if the remaining energy had posed a threat, the Realm King would have intervened.
Yet, the doubt remained. What if the energy had been too much, even for the Realm King? What if, despite his efforts, the explosion had reached his mother and Xiao Mei?
Yang Feng shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. He had to believe that they were safe, that they had survived the chaos. After all, if he hadn't absorbed the negative Qi, the destruction would have been far worse. Half of the Azure Realm might have crumbled under the force of the explosion.
But even now, two years later, Yang Feng couldn't shake the feeling of failure. He had been so close to achieving his full potential, so close to reaching the pinnacle of power. He had fought Di Long, a beast of unimaginable strength, and had awakened the Thunder God's full inheritance. At the height of his power, he had reached the level of a Qi Emperor, a level of cultivation that most could only dream of.
And yet, here he was, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. His cultivation was now so weak that even a Qi Adept would be stronger than him. It was a humbling experience, to say the least. But more than that, it was frustrating. Yang Feng had once stood at the peak of power, and now he was struggling just to survive in this new life.
He sat down by the fire, the bowl of soup in his hands, and stared into the flames. The fire crackled softly, its light flickering across the cabin's wooden walls. The warmth of the flames contrasted sharply with the cold uncertainty that gnawed at his soul. How had he ended up here? What was the purpose of his reincarnation, and what path lay ahead of him?
As he sipped the soup, the taste rich and savory, Yang Feng's mind was consumed by the endless questions that had haunted him since his fall.
The answers, if they existed, seemed elusive. All he had now were memories of his past life, a life filled with glory, betrayal, and power. But that life was gone, and in its place was this quiet, humble existence. For now, Yang Feng could only wait, bide his time, and continue to cultivate his abilities, hoping that one day the truth would reveal itself.
With the fire crackling beside him and the bowl of soup in his hands, Yang Feng's thoughts drifted back to his father, Bai Feng, and the life they had led together in this small, remote cabin. There were so many mysteries surrounding his new life, but one thing was certain: for better or worse, he was no longer the Immortal Prince of the Azure Domain.
He was simply Yang Feng, a boy with too many questions and not enough answers.