The wind howled.
It was sharp. Cold.
It carried the scent of blood through the bamboo forest.
A shadow weaved through the dense trees, his black robes rippling with each strained movement. His breathing was uneven, his lungs burning.
His legs ached. His muscles screamed for rest.
But he couldn't stop.
Stopping meant death.
Wang Ling's dark blue eyes flickered with exhaustion, but his hands remained clenched into fists. He ignored the pain.
He had no choice.
The rustling of leaves behind him sent a chill down his spine.
They were close.
Then—
A sharp force sliced through the air.
His instincts screamed.
Wang Ling twisted his body—
Something struck his back.
The impact sent him hurling forward.
His vision blurred as he slammed into a tree.
Pain shot through his ribs. His body crumpled to the ground, the damp earth pressing against his palms.
His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. Blood trickled from his lips.
Then—
Footsteps.
Steady. Unhurried.
Wang Ling clenched his jaw. He knew this feeling.
Killing intent.
A figure emerged through the trees.
His silver robes shimmered under the moonlight, golden embroidery curling around the fabric like coiled serpents. A jade hairpin held his long, dark hair in place.
His sword gleamed, freshly drawn.
Zhou Fan.
One of the Zhou Clan's top disciples. A Golden Core cultivator.
His voice was light, almost amused.
"So this is where you fall."
His grip on the sword remained relaxed, as if he already knew how this would end.
Wang Ling wiped the blood from his chin and pushed himself up. His limbs were heavy. His body was numb.
Still, he forced himself to stand.
His dark blue eyes met Zhou Fan's gaze.
"What's wrong?" Wang Ling exhaled. "Afraid of an insignificant soldier?"
Zhou Fan chuckled.
"Afraid?" His lips curled into a smirk. "No. Amused."
His gaze swept over Wang Ling's battered form.
"The Wang Family… reduced to nothing." His tone was almost pitying. "And you—" He gestured toward him with his sword. "A mere Foundation Establishment insect, crawling in the dirt, thinking he can fight back."
Silence.
Wang Ling's breathing steadied.
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. A small smirk pulled at his lips.
Then, without hesitation—
He raised his hand.
His middle finger stood tall.
"Fuck off."
Zhou Fan's eye twitched.
His grip on the sword tightened.
Then—
The blade moved.
A single stroke.
Wang Ling didn't even feel it.
His vision tilted.
The world spun.
His body crumpled.
His head hit the ground, rolling slightly before stopping.
He was staring at the sky.
Dark clouds loomed above.
Raindrops pattered against his face. Cold. Faint.
His fingers twitched.
His thoughts drifted.
So this is how it ends.
The words Zhou Fan had spoken echoed in his mind.
A mere insect.
He had fought. He had struggled.
But in the end…
It was true.
A commoner with no background, no resources—
A beggar.
That was what he had been.
In the Sun Continent, people like him had no chance of reaching beyond Foundation Establishment.
No matter how hard they struggled.
No matter how much they bled.
Wang Ling had always known that.
And yet—
He still dared to dream.
He still wanted to climb higher.
To touch the realm of the immortals.
But in the end—
He had failed.
The truth was undeniable.
His head was gone. His body, lifeless.
He was dead.
…Wasn't he?
A memory surfaced.
A girl.
Black hair. Blue eyes.
Her figure blurred beneath the rain.
Blood trickled down her face, staining her robes.
Countless swords pierced her body.
Yet—
She stood firm.
Her lips trembled, her voice shaking.
"Run, Wang Ling! Take the family heirloom!"
Her fingers curled into fists.
Tears mixed with the rain.
She was the only one who had ever reached out to him.
The only one who had taken in a hopeless beggar like him.
The young miss of the Wang Clan.
The same Wang Clan that had betrayed them.
Wang Ling's heart ached.
Miss… forgive me.
I have failed you.
His vision darkened.
The sound of the rain faded.
***
Drip!
A single drop of water landed on his cheek.
It was Cold.
Wang Ling's eyes snapped open.
His chest rose and fell. His heart pounded against his ribs. His vision was clear.
The sky above was bright. Sunlight flickered through the gaps between the leaves, painting shifting patterns on the damp earth.
A gentle breeze rustled the trees. The scent of fresh grass filled the air.
Everything felt too vivid. Too real.
Wang Ling's brows furrowed.
His fingers twitched, pressing against the ground. Soft. Damp.
His breathing steadied.
His body… felt different.
Lighter. Smaller.
A cold chill crept down his spine.
Slowly, he lifted his hands.
He stared at them.
His palms were smooth. His fingers, unscarred.
His arms—lean, but not as muscular as before.
His breathing hitched.
Something was wrong.
He ran his fingers over his neck.
Intact.
His head was still attached.
His stomach churned.
Didn't I… die?
He sat up. His limbs felt strangely unfamiliar. Like he was moving a body that wasn't his own.
Something caught his attention.
The soft murmur of a stream nearby.
His pulse quickened.
With unsteady legs, Wang Ling pushed himself to his feet. The world tilted slightly before steadying.
The stream was just ahead.
He took a slow step forward.
Then another.
His boots pressed into the damp earth as he approached the water's edge.
A part of him already knew what he would see.
Still—
He knelt beside the stream.
The surface rippled slightly before stilling.
A face reflected back at him.
Dark blue eyes. Black hair, loosely tied back.
His features were familiar, yet strange.
He was much younger.
His stomach dropped.
His fingers hovered over his face. The reflection mimicked his every movement.
The skin was real.
The sensation was real.
His heart pounded.
This… this can't be happening.
He squeezed his own arm.
Pain.
Sharp. Real.
He wasn't dreaming.
He wasn't in an illusion.
He was alive.
And somehow—
He was in a body far younger than before.
Then—
A sound.
[Ding!]
A cold, mechanical noise rang in his ears.
Wang Ling's body stiffened.
His head snapped toward the source.
Nothing.
But—
A blue window suddenly blinked into existence in front of him.
Wang Ling didn't move.
His dark blue eyes remained locked on the glowing window hovering in front of him.
It was there.
Floating.
[Welcome to Earth, Player No. 56.]
Earth?
His brows furrowed.
The name was completely unfamiliar to him.
He had traveled across the Sun Continent, walked through ancient ruins, seen countless maps—
But he had never heard of a place called Earth.
A chill crept up his spine.
Where am I?
Before he could process it, the window shifted.
[Name: Wang Ling
Age: ???
Class: None
Mana Stage: 0 Circle (0.00%)
Cultivation Stage: Qi Refinement 1 (5.47%)
Strength: 1 | Defense: 1
Stamina: 1 | Agility: 1
Constitution: 1 | Mana: 0
Qi: 0 (Deactivated)
Skills: None]
Wang Ling's fingers curled slightly.
It displayed everything.
His name. His cultivation level. His exact progress.
His breathing slowed.
A device that can read my cultivation?
His lips curled slightly.
Well… I've seen crazier things.
Indeed.
In his past life, he had witnessed a man bring the dead back to life.
He had seen an entire city rise from the ground, built solely by magic.
He had even watched a chicken turn into a phoenix.
…And an empress murder an emperor for cheating on her.
Yeah.
Women in the Sun Continent were… possessive.
Especially the lady.
She was kind, sure.
But sometimes, she acted strangely.
Like that time she "gently" asked him to test a new pill.
Which resulted in him coughing blood for three days.
Wang Ling exhaled.
I should stop thinking about that lunatic.
Right now, there were bigger concerns.
Like the fact that—
His entire body tensed.
Something felt… wrong.
His hands twitched slightly.
He looked down.
Silence.
A breeze swept across his skin.
…Why did it feel breezy?
His face darkened.
Slowly, Wang Ling lowered his gaze.
And froze.
A dreadful realization hit him.
His lips parted slightly.
Then—
"Ahh—"
His hands flew to cover himself, his face twisting in horror.
No. No. No. No. No.
This was bad.
If anyone saw him like this—
His dignity would be shattered beyond repair.
His first priority was now clear.
Clothes. He needed clothes. Immediately.
His eyes darted around in desperation.
His gaze landed on a tree.
Large, broad leaves. Long, flexible vines.
He gulped.
It's still better than nothing.
Without hesitation, he rushed forward.
Time to get creative.
His fingers tugged at the vines, testing their strength. They were thick, sturdy—good enough to tie together.
Wang Ling worked quickly. He braided the vines, securing them into something that vaguely resembled a belt.
Next, the leaves.
He plucked the largest ones he could find and tied them around his waist, weaving them into the vine belt.
A moment of silence passed.
He exhaled.
Not bad.
…Well, he looked like a savage.
But at least he wasn't completely exposed.
Wang Ling adjusted the leaves slightly before straightening up.
His gaze darkened.
Zhou Clan…
Those bastards.
They took everything from him.
His family. His future. His dream.
And now…
Now, they thought he was dead.
Good.
Let them think that.
Because the moment he had the chance—
He would make them pay.
Every single one of them.
His fists clenched.
One day, I will make you kneel.
But right now—
His eyes swept the surroundings.
The forest was dense. Tall trees stretched toward the sky, their roots coiling deep into the earth.
But something felt… off.
The air was different. The atmosphere, unnatural.
Then—
He saw it.
In the distance, beyond the trees, stood something massive.
His breath hitched.
A structure.
Or at least—
What was left of one.
It loomed against the horizon, partially collapsed, covered in moss and vines.
But its shape—
The design—
It wasn't like anything he had ever seen in the Sun Continent.
His hands clenched.
This place…
Where the hell am I?
He thought, as his gaze landed on a structure nearby