**Chapter Two: Waking Up in the Midst of a Massacre**
The wind howled, carrying with it the stench of blood and death. Corpses lay scattered like broken limbs across the dry earth, mingled with shattered weapons and splintered armor. Amid the chaos, the silence weighed heavier than anything else, as if the world itself had stopped breathing.
Then, amidst it all, a single body stirred.
Fang Chi slowly opened his eyes, his gaze calm, devoid of panic or confusion. No—there was something else in his eyes… something akin to nostalgia.
This was not unfamiliar to him.
Memories trickled into his mind, jumbled and fragmented, as though they were distant dreamlike visions. Scenes from a foggy past, not entirely his own, and yet… they belonged to him. Battles, death, blood… thousands of lives fading into darkness.
With effort, he raised his hand, observing it coldly. It was stained with blood—some fresh, some long dried. Pain throbbed in every part of his body, but instead of discomfort, he let out only a faint sigh.
"So, I died… only to wake up in another massacre?"
His words held no resentment, not even surprise. They were more like a passing remark, as if he were commenting on the weather.
He tried to rise, but his body trembled with pain as he barely lifted himself. His clothes were torn, bearing a faded emblem… the Cloudy Sky Sect, a mid-tier faction within the Martial Alliance. So, this was a sect conflict, not some random skirmish.
His eyes swept over the corpses. Some bore the insignia of the Martial Alliance; others belonged to sects outside it. The same ancient war, just with new faces.
He smiled bitterly, his voice barely audible. "What was I even fighting for this time?"
But he had no time to ponder.
In the distance, a group of men appeared. They moved across the battlefield with practiced ease, inspecting the corpses one by one. These were no ordinary warriors—their movements were deliberate and silent, their eyes sharp and searching.
"Scavengers? Or… something more complicated?"
He remained still, observing critically, until his eyes met those of one of them—a tall man with a piercing, vigilant gaze.
"We have a survivor!"
In an instant, the others turned toward him, hands reaching for their weapons.
Fang Chi knew his body couldn't endure a fight, yet he showed no trace of fear. He simply watched them with the same enigmatic calm that always clung to him.
The leader stepped forward, studying him. "You're still breathing?"
Fang Chi raised an eyebrow, his tone contemplative. "In a manner of speaking."
There was no pleading, no attempt to evoke pity. Just a bare statement of fact.
The leader laughed, a slight shrug in his shoulders. "You don't seem afraid."
"Why should I be? You'll either kill me, save me, or leave me here." He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his words. "Either way… it won't be boring."
The leader stared at him for a moment, then signaled to his men. "Take him with us."
Fang Chi didn't resist, letting them lift him like a broken doll. The pain in his body intensified, his vision began to blur, but he revealed no weakness.
*A new world, the same old filth…* These were his final thoughts before darkness swallowed him.
---
**Village of Strangers**
When he awoke, dim light seeped through an old wooden window. The scent of medicinal herbs lingered in the air, and faint movements outside the room told him he wasn't alone.
He examined his surroundings calmly. The room was modest but clean. The bed beneath him was coarse, yet comfortable compared to the cold ground he'd woken on earlier.
He shifted slowly, testing his condition. His wounds were wrapped in clean bandages; the pain remained but had dulled. So, they'd truly saved him.
At the door, a small shadow shifted before a slender teenager appeared. The boy's wide eyes brimmed with caution, but he said nothing, vanishing as quickly as he'd come.
"So, the watchers have begun their rounds."
It wasn't long before an elderly man entered, exuding an aura of calm authority. He was no ordinary farmer—there was something in his posture, his gaze… the weight of decades lived.
"You're awake."
Fang Chi didn't speak at first, merely studied the man before replying, his voice as steady as ever. "Clearly."
The man laughed, his eyes unbothered by Fang Chi's ambiguity. "I am Shen Lao, leader of this village."
Fang Chi didn't respond immediately. After a pause, he offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "That explains the welcoming atmosphere."
"We saved you because you were one of the warriors who defended this place," Shen Lao continued, ignoring his sarcasm. "Without you, we'd all be among the dead."
"Is that so…" Fang Chi murmured, his gaze deepening. "So I was protecting you, then?"
Shen Lao raised an eyebrow, as if inviting him to test his intuition. "If you hadn't been, you wouldn't be here now."
It wasn't a threat—just a simple truth.
Days passed, and Fang Chi began to piece things together. This world was ruled by martial sects, its power centered in the Martial Alliance, to which his Cloudy Sky Sect belonged. Sect wars weren't petty disputes—they were existential struggles determining who lived and who was erased from history.
Yet, despite their hospitality, he remained wary. There was something odd about this village. Not everyone was a simple farmer—their movements, their glances… something didn't add up.
Shen Lao and the physician, Bai Heng, visited him days later with news of his condition.
"Your body is healing," said the physician, his tone calm but assessing. "But your internal energy is unstable. Have you tried circulating it?"
Fang Chi's breath hitched. *Internal energy…*
Something in his mind fractured. A burst of memories—ancient knowledge of energy manipulation, control techniques—flooded him. A headache stabbed through his skull, forcing him to clutch his temples, his breaths labored.
Shen Lao and Bai Heng exchanged a glance before the physician offered a small vial. "Drink this. It will help."
Fang Chi eyed the dark liquid inside, hesitated… then drank.
The taste was bitter, but warmth spread through him.
At the door, he glimpsed the same slender boy watching—but this time, the boy's eyes held not just caution, but regret.
In that moment, Fang Chi understood the truth.
His body grew heavy, his vision dimming.
He laughed bitterly before closing his eyes slowly.
"It seems I made a mistake… whether in this world or the other, humans remain the same."