Feng Yunxian sat in the dim light of the village, staring at the horizon where the sun had just set. The sky was tinged with hues of crimson and gold, a beautiful contrast to the darkness that brewed in his heart. Days had passed since his encounter with the mysterious beggar, and the old man's words still echoed in his mind.
"There is something ancient within you… something divine."
The words struck at the core of his identity. Could there still be remnants of his past life lingering within him? The mere thought filled him with a glimmer of hope, but each day spent in this weak, mortal shell only deepened his frustration.
The villagers had resumed their routine, unaware of the storm brewing within their midst. They saw Feng Yunxian as the quiet, sickly boy who had miraculously recovered. His adopted mother, Aunt Li, had taken to doting on him even more since his recovery, believing he was destined for something greater.
"Yunxian, come inside! The evening chill is setting in!" she called from the doorway.
Feng Yunxian's eyes lingered on the mountains in the distance, their peaks hidden by a shroud of mist. There was something beyond them, he could feel it. But for now, his focus had to be on recovering his strength. Without it, the path ahead would remain insurmountable.
He turned and made his way into the house, his body still stiff and sore from the day's work. Even the simple task of chopping wood had left him winded, something that never would have happened in his previous life. Yet, despite his mortal weakness, his mind was still sharp, and his will unbreakable.
As the night deepened and the village fell silent, Feng Yunxian sat cross-legged in his small room, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Tonight, he would try again—he had to. The energy in this realm was thin, but not completely absent. If he could just focus, perhaps he could ignite the spark of cultivation once more.
His breathing slowed as he entered a meditative state, his mind sinking into the void. He could feel the faint traces of energy in the air around him, like the whisper of a breeze against his skin. It was weak, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath, focusing harder.
For hours he sat in silence, trying to draw in even the smallest amount of spiritual energy. But no matter how much he tried, his efforts seemed in vain. The energy remained just out of reach, slipping through his grasp like sand.
A flicker of anger surged within him, but he suppressed it. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not yet.
Suddenly, just as he was about to give up for the night, a strange sensation washed over him. It was faint, but distinct—like a pulse of energy deep within his body. His eyes snapped open as he felt it again, stronger this time. It wasn't from the air around him. No, this energy was coming from within.
Feng Yunxian's heart raced. Could it be? Was there still something left of his old self, buried deep within this mortal shell?
He focused inward, searching for the source of the energy. As he delved deeper into his consciousness, he felt it—an ancient power, dormant and hidden, but undeniably there. It was faint, like a dying ember waiting to be reignited, but it was there. His soul had carried more than just memories from the Chaos. It had carried a spark of his true power.
A slow, deliberate smile spread across his lips. This was the breakthrough he had been waiting for. His enemies had believed they had destroyed him completely, but they had underestimated the power of his soul. Even in this weak, mortal body, he had survived.
"I knew it," he whispered to himself. "I knew I wasn't finished."
For the first time since his reincarnation, Feng Yunxian felt a surge of hope. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The spark of his past life's power had survived, and with it, the potential to rebuild his cultivation from scratch.
The road ahead would be long and difficult, but he had faced worse before. If he had ascended to the heights of the Chaos once, he could do it again.
But this time, he wouldn't make the same mistakes. This time, he would be prepared. He would cultivate in secret, gathering his strength until the day came when he could reclaim what was rightfully his. And when that day came, those who had betrayed him would regret ever crossing the Divine Immortal of the Chaos.
The next morning, Feng Yunxian awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. His body was still weak, but his mind was sharper than ever. The villagers had no idea who they were living with, and that was just the way he wanted it. He would play the part of the quiet, ordinary boy for now. There was no need to draw attention to himself—not yet.
As he went about his daily chores, he kept his senses alert, searching for any trace of spiritual energy in the environment. It was faint, but it was there, scattered in the earth and air around him. Every chance he got, he would stop and try to absorb even the smallest amount, training his body and mind to once again harness the power of cultivation.
It was slow, grueling work, and the progress was almost imperceptible at first. But Feng Yunxian was nothing if not patient. He had spent eons cultivating to reach the peak of the Chaos. He could endure a few more years if it meant rising again.
Weeks passed, and bit by bit, he began to feel the difference. His body grew stronger, his senses sharper. He could feel the energy gathering within him, slowly but surely. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
And then, one night, as he sat meditating beneath the stars, something changed. The energy in the air suddenly surged, stronger than ever before. It was as if the world itself was responding to his will, drawn to him by the power he was beginning to awaken.
Feng Yunxian's eyes snapped open. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
With a deep breath, he focused all of his concentration on drawing the energy in, letting it flow into his body like a rushing river. His veins burned with the surge of power, but he welcomed the pain. It was a sign that his cultivation had finally begun to take hold.
For hours, he sat beneath the stars, drawing in as much energy as he could. By the time the sun rose, his body was drenched in sweat, but his eyes gleamed with a new light.
"I'm back," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with determination. "I will rise again."
With this breakthrough, Feng Yunxian knew his journey had truly begun. It would take time—years, perhaps decades—but he would ascend once more. And when he did, the Chaos would tremble at the return of its rightful ruler.
For now, though, he would bide his time. He would grow stronger in secret, preparing for the day when he would step into the cultivation world once more.
And when that day came, no one—not even the gods themselves—would stand in his way.