Darkness had replaced the blinding glare that had enveloped John when he disappeared. Into that endless abyss, he felt himself falling, spinning through the invisible currents of the cosmos, passing through unknown worlds and dimensions. Thoughts blurred in John's mind, fuzzy and distant, as if his very being were dissolving.
But suddenly, everything stopped.
A dull shock resonated in his mind. Something strange, warm and organic, surrounded him. John opened his eyes and found himself in a completely new environment. He was panting, as if he had just come back to life. His limbs were numb, his head heavy. He instinctively brought a hand to his forehead. His skin was warm, but… something was wrong. This body was not his.
His gaze fell on his hands. They were small, almost childlike, thin and delicate. He looked at himself briefly, his breath taken away. He was no longer John. He was… something else.
That was when memories flooded into his mind. Memories that were not his own. Images of a peaceful village nestled at the foot of a mountain. A loving family, a father, a mother, a younger sister. But also screams, cries, calls for help. The dull sound of a fatal blow. Tears, unspeakable pain. Darkness.
Yang Qi… The name echoed in John's mind like a distant echo. I am Yang Qi… It was not just a name. It was an identity. He was no longer just John, the pseudo-dominator of the mortal realm. He was also Yang Qi, a 13-year-old boy in this new world.
John—or rather Yang Qi—straightened up with difficulty. He was on the edge of an icy lake.
Yang Qi, or rather John in Yang Qi's body, sat for a moment on the edge of the icy lake, trying to gather his thoughts. The place was calm, peaceful even, despite the biting wind that swept the banks.
The water, black and opaque, seemed almost hypnotic. He leaned slightly, staring at his own reflection in the water, and what he saw made his chest tighten. A young, fragile face, with features still childish but marked by a premature hardness. His eyes, an incandescent orange but dark and deep, imbued with an ancient sadness, bore witness to past agony. His bright red hair rose like flames, scattered in disordered strands. This body had known suffering, but in a way that surpassed anything John had experienced until then.
Yang Qi's memories took hold of his mind again, violent and oppressive. He saw again a modest house, lit by dim lanterns, the smiling faces of his parents. Then the brutal injustice that fell upon them.
A powerful figure from another city, haughty and cruel, whom his parents had, it seemed, offended. The retribution had been immediate and merciless. His parents had been executed before his eyes, leaving behind an 8-year-old boy, alone and disoriented. His mother's screams, the cold glint of the sword that cut his father, all of it still echoed in his mind like a gaping wound.
After that tragic event, Yang Qi's life had been turned upside down. He was ostracized, not only by the city, but by his own clan, the Yang clan of Qingfeng City. Once a respected clan, the Yangs had a small influence in the region. But since his parents' disgrace, Yang Qi had become an outcast, considered the son of traitors, an indelible stain on the family's honor. Murmurs followed him everywhere, looks of contempt and sneers. He had no friends, no allies.
"That's why he chose cultivation..." John thought as he struggled to his feet. "It was his only escape."
But even in this area, he had been betrayed.
Yang Qi's most painful memory then resurfaced. A few years ago, when he was still a hopeful teenager, he had managed to reach a respectable level in cultivation despite the limited resources available to him. His desire to avenge his parents and restore the honor of his name pushed him to surpass himself, to climb the ranks with fierce determination.
However, this dream suddenly collapsed.
His own cousin, Yang Fen, a talented and arrogant young man who enjoyed the status of favorite within the clan, had seen him as a threat. Yang Fen was the son of the patriarch Yang Bao and had never borne to see that, despite the prejudices, Yang Qi continued to progress. Jealousy had slowly germinated within him, transforming into a cold and merciless hatred.
One day, under a banal pretext, Yang Fen had trapped him. Under the cover of a training duel, he had attacked Yang Qi with excessive violence. Using a secret technique, he had cut off Yang Qi's meridians, destroying his ability to manipulate Qi forever. It was a fatal blow, not only to his body, but to his mind. Cultivation, his only hope of redemption, had been snatched away from him in an instant.
"Poor child, he has lived only misery… it seems that my luck is not that good. I inhabit a miserable body." He sighed as he recalled all the events of the deceased's life. "However, this being has given me one last chance and I will not waste it even if I have to become a demon."
But Yang Qi had not resigned himself. Despite the pain, despite the decline, he had sought another way to train. Unable to cultivate Qi, he turned to another method: physical strengthening through extreme cold. He had heard legends about body cultivators who could stand up to certain powers thanks to this training, but this training is described as unbearable. However, Yang Qi had decided to dive into this frozen hell, hoping that the pain and cold would harden his body if he could not cultivate his Qi.
For months, he had submitted to this inhuman treatment, day after day, his flesh bitten by the ice, his bones crushed by the cold. But this body, still young and fragile, could not bear such a burden indefinitely. That day, Yang Qi had pushed his limits too far. The ice had finally overcome his will, and he had died, alone, in silent agony, his last breath lost in the icy winds of the river.
John stood up slowly, feeling the weight of that young boy's memories, pain, and regrets. His legs trembled slightly from the effort. This body was weak, worn down by years of suffering. But John clenched his fists, feeling a determination growing within him.
"You've struggled for so long," Yang Qi thought as he looked out at the dark waters of the lake. "But now, it's my turn."
He had come back to life with a mission, a promise he had made to that mysterious being in the space between worlds. The road to immortality would be long, but John knew he couldn't give up. No matter the obstacles, no matter the betrayals, he would climb the ladder of cultivation again, even in this battered body.
And this time, he wouldn't let anyone stop him.