"UGH… IT HURTS!"

Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before, as though invisible blades tore him apart from the inside—gnawing at his very bones, leaving every nerve raw and exposed. His body convulsed, muscles locking as if unseen chains bound him in place. A suffocating weight crushed his chest, making each breath a battle.

Then, just as suddenly, the pain vanished—only to be replaced by something far worse.

A flood of memories that did not belong to him crashed into his consciousness.

He saw unfamiliar faces—living lives he never knew, feeling emotions that weren't his own. It was as if he were trapped in a dream, watching memories unfold through borrowed eyes. But then, a moment of panic—

A hand gripped a wooden sword, arms burning from repetition. He winced and turned his palm over, expecting to see bloodied calluses. But his skin was smooth. His breath hitched. That wasn't his memory. And yet, for a second, he had felt it.

Yi Lian clutched his head, gasping as fragments of another existence wove themselves into his mind. A sneering senior disciple kicking someone aside. A girl's tearful farewell under the moonlight. None of it was his, yet it all felt too real. He clung to the only truth that remained—his own identity.

When the torrent finally ebbed, he lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. His hands trembled as he forced himself upright, his breath coming in ragged gulps.

Then, it hit him.

He found himself in a world where strength ruled all. The weak were nothing more than prey to be consumed—a brutal place where even bones weren't spared from the feast.

Memories—ones that now felt like his own—told him the truth. This vessel belonged to a nameless outer disciple of a sect. No cultivation. No background. A nobody among thousands.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. After all this time, life had dragged him back to the same place—a prisoner of power, once again crushed beneath the will of the strong.

But he wasn't about to let that stop him.

The air around him was thick with an unfamiliar energy, pressing against his skin like an unseen force. Everything felt sharper, more vivid. The wooden walls of his modest dwelling, the sparse furniture, even the worn-out robes clinging to his damp skin—it was all too real to be a dream.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sticky filth coating his body—sweat, grime, and the remnants of whatever process had forced him into this body. Disgusted, he staggered toward the small washroom tucked in the corner and splashed cold water onto his face.

The shock jolted his mind into clarity.

This world… this sect… it was dangerous.

The strong ruled. The weak were trampled underfoot. If he didn't act fast, he would be just another stepping stone for some arrogant young master.

He exhaled sharply. I need power. I need a way to survive.

And as if answering his desperate thoughts, a voice echoed in his mind—clear, mechanical, and filled with an undeniable authority.

[DING!] [TRANSMIGRATION SUCCESSFUL. SYSTEM ACTIVATED.] [HOST: YI LIAN] [CULTIVATION: NULL] [SYSTEM ABILITIES: APPRAISAL, MENTAL LOCK] [CREATION POINTS: NULL]

Yi Lian froze.

A system? The floating text hovered before him, unreal yet undeniable. His fingers twitched. Was this real? Was this some lingering illusion from the pain? His instincts screamed at him to question it—to doubt.

Yet, as he focused on the words, the information embedded itself in his mind, solid, immovable.

He hesitated, then exhaled slowly. If this was his advantage in this world, he would seize it.

A new line of text materialized as if responding to his thoughts.

[Creation Points can be used to upgrade abilities, cultivation, and the system itself. They are earned by creating anything of value.]

Yi Lian frowned, rolling the concept over in his mind. Creating anything of value? That could mean a lot—techniques, items, knowledge… or even influence.

A slow grin crept onto his lips. Interesting.

The exhaustion weighing down on him finally caught up, and his eyelids grew heavy. He had a million questions, but those would have to wait. Tomorrow, he would visit the sect's library and learn everything he could.

For now, he needed rest.

A Presence in the Night

Beneath the moon's pale glow, the courtyard outside his humble dwelling was no longer empty.

A woman stood in the silver light, her presence an ethereal contrast against the darkened landscape. Her robes shimmered like liquid jade, embroidered with celestial patterns that seemed to shift with the night air. Delicate jade ornaments adorned her hair, though they did little to diminish the natural elegance that surrounded her like an aura.

She was breathtaking. And terrifying.

Because she was watching him.

With a flick of her wrist, a table and chair materialized from thin air, the faint hum of spiritual energy dispersing into the night. She seated herself gracefully, her posture relaxed, yet her expression unreadable.

She was waiting.

Morning's Arrival

CHIRP. CHIRP.

The morning sun bathed Yi Lian's room in a soft golden hue, birdsong filling the air. A gentle warmth replaced the chill of the night, momentarily lulling him into a false sense of peace.

He stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and pulled on his robes.

Today was the start of his new life. He needed to—

CREAK.

The sound was soft. Barely audible.

Yet it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He stiffened. The door to his courtyard had opened on its own.

The contrast was unsettling—the warmth of the morning sun against the undeniable chill of unease crawling through his veins. He stepped outside, his breath slow and measured.

Seated at a table that hadn't existed last night was a woman too beautiful to belong to this world. Her robes shimmered like the morning sky, her presence as serene as a still lake. Yet despite her calm demeanor, the intensity of her gaze made his blood run cold.

Yi Lian swallowed hard and forced his expression into respectful neutrality. Who was she? Why was she here?

Lowering his head slightly, he spoke, keeping his tone polite. "May I ask what brings you here, Senior?"

His eyes narrowed as he spoke, tension tightening in his chest. Anyone who could step into his courtyard without permission had to be stronger than him—far stronger.

She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. Then, she smiled.

"May I ask something first?"

Her voice was gentle, almost melodic, but there was something beneath it—a sharpness, a weight.

Yi Lian straightened. "Of course, Senior."

Her next words were deceptively simple, yet they sent his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

A question so basic, yet it carried an undeniable pressure.

Yi Lian's mouth went dry. Did she… know?

Desperate for answers, he mentally activated Appraisal on her.

[ERROR: HOST IS TOO WEAK TO USE APPRAISAL ON THIS TARGET.] [HOST HAS BEEN DETECTED.]

His blood turned to ice.

Her gaze sharpened. "So, you tried to pry into my identity?"

And then, with a voice that left no room for refusal, she declared:

"I have decided to take you as my disciple."