"Where am I?" our mc muttered, his voice hoarse as he slowly regained consciousness. A throbbing headache pulsed through his skull, each beat a reminder of the chaos his life had become.
The last thing he could recall was sitting at a dimly lit bar, drowning his sorrows in one too many drinks. His girlfriend—no, his ex-girlfriend—had betrayed him, leaving him for another man.
The memory stung, but it wasn't entirely shocking. He had always been painfully aware of his shortcomings: not particularly handsome, not remotely rich, just an average guy struggling to get by.
In a world where people could be easily swayed by fame, power, and authority, he was hardly a contender.
Stories like his were as old as time itself, just another unfortunate chapter in the long history of heartbreak.
But something felt off. The familiar smell of stale alcohol and the murmur of the bar were gone. Instead, he found himself in a completely foreign place, disoriented and alone.
Panic began to set in as he realized the impossible had happened—he wasn't in the bar anymore. He wasn't even sure he was in the same world.
Twelve breaths—that's all it took for the horrifying truth to settle in. He had died, somehow, and been thrust into another existence.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and with it, an overwhelming sense of dread.
"AHHHHHHHHH!" The scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a searing agony that felt as though it was ripping his very essence apart.
His body convulsed, each nerve alight with excruciating torment as if his soul was being shredded piece by piece.
It was as if the universe itself was punishing him, forcing him to endure the full brunt of his suffering all at once.
He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but scream as the torment consumed him.
Seconds stretched into eternity as the agony persisted, unrelenting and merciless.
The sensation of his body and soul being torn apart was beyond anything he could have imagined, far worse than any physical pain he had ever known.
It felt as if he were being unmade, every fiber of his being unraveling in an excruciating, slow-motion disaster.
Through the haze of suffering, a single, terrifying thought clawed its way to the surface of his mind: What kind of nightmare have I woken up into?
Our mc had no idea how long the torture lasted. Seconds felt like hours, and minutes stretched into what seemed like an eternity.
His entire existence was consumed by an all-encompassing agony that tore through his very being, shredding both body and soul.
Just when he thought he could endure no more, the pain began to ebb away, leaving him gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat.
As his mind slowly clawed its way back from the abyss of suffering, a torrent of unfamiliar memories surged into his consciousness, merging with his own and threatening to overwhelm him once more.
Faces, names, places—none of which he recognized—flashed before his eyes in a chaotic jumble. He clutched his head, groaning as he tried to make sense of the onslaught.
Gradually, the fragments began to align, forming a coherent narrative of a life that was not his own.
He was now Luke Pierce, the only son of Warren Pierce, the esteemed patriarch of the illustrious Pierce Clan—a formidable family renowned for their powerful cultivators and vast influence across a small desolate region of this xianxia world.
However, the story of this young master was anything but glorious.
In these newfound memories, Luke was a laughingstock among his peers, born without the innate ability to cultivate the spiritual energy that permeated this world.
Despite his noble lineage, he was considered a disgrace, a weakling unworthy of his family's prestigious name. Ridiculed and scorned, his life was a constant reminder of his inadequacy.
Driven by desperation and envy of his peers' prowess, Luke had sought forbidden knowledge, delving into ancient texts and secret manuals that promised power beyond imagination.
One such text detailed a perilous technique that claimed to unlock one's dormant potential by forcibly opening the body's meridians—a process that defied the natural order and was strictly prohibited.
Blinded by ambition and a desire to prove himself, Luke had performed the ritual in secrecy, convinced that he could succeed where others had failed. But the heavens were not so forgiving.
The technique backfired disastrously, wreaking havoc on his internal organs and shattering his soul, leading to his premature death.
It was this tragic end that had created the opportunity for our mc's transmigration into this perilous new world.
As the weight of this reality settled upon him, panic began to well up inside. His heart raced, and his breathing became shallow as he grappled with the enormity of his situation.
He was now inhabiting the body of a notorious failure in a world where strength was the law, and the weak were trampled without mercy.
Desperate for a glimmer of hope, he clung to the tropes of the countless xianxia novels he had read in his previous life.
In those stories, those mcs often gained miraculous abilities or encountered legendary mentors upon transmigration, propelling them from nobodies to unparalleled heroes.
Clutching at this thin strand of optimism, he closed his eyes and called out into the void of his mind.
"Golden finger, are you there?" he asked, his voice trembling with anticipation. He waited, straining to sense any sign of a hidden power awakening within him. Seconds ticked by, but there was only silence.
Refusing to give up, he tried again.
"Grandpa in my ring, say something, please." He glanced down at his hands, searching for any mysterious rings or artifacts that might house an ancient soul or a powerful spirit.
His fingers were bare, devoid of any such mystical items.
A cold chill ran down his spine as dread began to creep in. He swallowed hard before making one last attempt.
"System cheat, where are you?" he called out, hoping for the familiar ding of a system activation or the appearance of translucent screens before his eyes.
He held his breath, waiting for any response that would indicate he wasn't alone in this ordeal.
But there was nothing. No hidden systems, no mystical mentors, no sudden surge of power coursing through his veins. The oppressive silence was deafening, confirming his worst fears.
He felt his knees buckle beneath him as he sank to the ground, his hands clutching at the coarse fabric of his robes. Tears blurred his vision as the reality of his situation crashed over him like a relentless tide.
He was utterly alone and powerless in a world that showed no mercy to the weak.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as despair tightened its grip around his heart.
Images of brutal cultivators, deadly beasts, and treacherous sects flashed through his mind, each one a potential threat that he had no means to confront.
He couldn't help but recall the numerous stories where npcs without cheats met gruesome ends, their journeys cut short by the unforgiving nature of the cultivation world.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he hugged himself tightly, seeking comfort in the only way he could.
"Am I destined to die again? To be a footnote in someone else's story?" he murmured, his voice thick with fear and frustration.
With despair weighing heavily on him, our mc finally stood up, his face etched with deep helplessness.
He lifted his gaze and found himself face-to-face with a full-length mirror that seemed almost to loom over him.
As he looked at his reflection, he was struck by a profound realization: the heavens, it seemed, were not intent on closing all doors to those who earnestly seek.
The mirror revealed something he hadn't fully acknowledged before—his own face. His features were not just ordinary; they were strikingly handsome, possessing an allure that could captivate anyone.
This extraordinary gift was a stark contrast to the dire circumstances he had been enduring. The revelation was both startling and inspiring.
A flicker of hope began to kindle within him as he marveled at his own reflection. The once insurmountable obstacles now seemed less daunting in light of this newfound advantage.
With a thoughtful smile slowly spreading across his face, he began to contemplate how to leverage his exceptional looks.
The mirror was not just a reflection but a symbol of a chance to transform his situation.
As he considered the possibilities, his mind raced with plans and strategies. His striking appearance could be his key to new opportunities and paths he had previously thought unreachable.
Energized by this revelation, he set about devising a plan to make the most of his unique gift, determined to seize the chance and turn his fortunes around.