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City of Green Sun
The soft morning light filtered through the pale stained-glass windows of the small manor, and a thin mist hung in the room. A heavy sigh broke the silence.
Chen Hao, soaked in sweat and with a tense expression, sat in the center of the room. Around him, a circle of extinguished candles, and on the floor, white chalk lines drawn in ancient patterns—designs meant to pull energy from within the body's meridians and unlock a path forward.
But...
Once again, it was useless.
He removed his hands from his knees and leaned toward the wall in despair, as if trying to pull himself out from within.
— "It won't open… again! Damn it…"
The fourth meridian, right beneath his collarbone, felt like a thread of ice buried deep within his flesh. He had tried countless times—with breathing techniques, guided meditation, even applying pressure on sensitive body points—to stimulate it. But this meridian, unlike the other three, remained unresponsive. No vibration, no tremor, no tingling, no light… nothing!
He grabbed a bottle of cold water, took a few sips, and as droplets dripped from his chin, he muttered under his breath:
— "Without external help, I can't do it. This meridian… it's like an old tree root stuck deep inside."
He knew well that some of the body's meridians could be locked due to genetics or emotional trauma—even events from the distant past. But among cultivators, few were willing to admit they needed outside help. It was seen as a kind of weakness. Chen Hao, however, swallowed his pride in silence.
Between pride and power, he chose the latter.
He stood up, threw his thin gray robe over his shoulders, and went down the stone steps. Though his manor was tucked away in a quiet corner of the City of Green Sun, it now felt suffocating and far too enclosed.
He had to get out.
The City of Green Sun, a small town on the northern edge of the Azure Cloud State, still maintained a bustling marketplace.
Chen Hao knew what he needed:
A fifty-year-old ginseng to increase Qi flow,
Starfire Grass to create vibrations in blocked energy lines,
And Sunflower Root to stabilize the new circuit.
He went over the list in his mind, but suddenly, his steps slowed.
He checked the pockets of his robe.
— "No… damn it, I have nothing?!"
Last year, he had spent most of his wealth to buy an incomplete copy of the booklet "Stimulation of Forgotten Circuits." Now, he didn't even have enough to purchase a single herb. A wave of hopelessness rose up his spine like hot steam.
At that very moment, he sensed something approaching from behind. An aura… strong. Not threatening, but assured. Something about it felt familiar. He slowly turned.
A man in a long dusty robe, with a faint smile on his lips, stood in the shadow of a stone pillar.
— "Young Master… it's me… Chen Wang."
His tone wasn't hostile. In fact, more than excited or formal, it was respectful—yet meaningful.
The man had a slim, tall build, like a sword kept in its sheath for years but still gleaming. His black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and on his angular face, just below his left eye, a thin scar could be seen—an old but lasting mark. His gray clothing bore no symbol of any clan, but the fabric was fine, and the stitching, orderly. In the silence between them, a calm yet powerful aura radiated around him—like fire hidden under ashes.
Chen Hao murmured:
— "Chen Wang…"
The man nodded slightly, respectfully, but without false humility.
— "Young Master… I'm glad to see you well."
But the truth was, Chen Wang wasn't from the Chen family at all. His past, like torn pages from a diary, remained etched in Chen Hao's mind. A man who once hovered at the edge of death—wounded, alone, and desperate. He had been found during one of the expeditions led by Chen Hao's father, deep in the Forest of Falling Stars. Alive, but on the verge of physical and spiritual collapse.
Chen Hao's father, a prominent figure in the Chen clan at the time, saved him. Not just his body, but his life. Later, it was discovered that Chen Wang was not only strong but possessed an extraordinary talent for cultivation. His father adopted him into the family's inner circle and trained him. From then on, Chen Wang became one of the family's personal guardians. His voice was always soft, his actions precise, and his gaze… just like a hunter who never loses sight of his prey.
Chen Wang broke the silence:
— "Young Master… the Lord… your father… has requested to see you."
Like a spark in the dark, the word "Father" lit up in Chen Hao's mind. He stood straighter, his eyes gleaming. In his previous life, he was a wandering orphan in the lowest slums of the continent. In that world, the taste of fatherly love existed only in stories. But in this life…
He had a father. A real one. Strong, wise, and mysterious. A man whose shadow stretched across the entire Azure Cloud State. And beyond the father… he had a little sister. The memory of her childlike smile, with hair falling on both sides of her face and her big sparkling eyes, squeezed his heart.
But…
In the memory of this new life, his father had been in seclusion for some time. He had gone into the Patriarch's Hidden Chamber—a place only the patriarch himself could enter—to make a breakthrough in cultivation.
Chen Hao couldn't hide his excitement.
— "He wants to see me? Now?"
Chen Wang nodded in confirmation.
— "Yes, Young Master. He has emerged from his retreat… this is the first time in a year that he's made such a request."
Chen Hao paused. A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside him: excitement, curiosity, and a hint of anxiety. But without hesitation, he said:
— "Very well. Let's go."
Chen Wang offered a subtle smile, turned, and with smooth movements, began walking northwest through the narrow alleys. Chen Hao followed with long strides.
The two of them passed in silence through the family buildings. From time to time, young disciples of the clan whispered upon seeing Chen Hao. They had heard the hot news—"Chen Han was crippled by Chen Hao." The seemingly worthless young master had, in fact, done such a thing. It was unbelievable to them.
But Chen Hao paid them no mind. His thoughts were filled with memories of the man who always stood behind him like a mountain.
A gentle breeze rustled through the cypress branches of the small manor grove. Sunlight filtered through the silk curtains of the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the thick, luxurious carpets. A stone-paved path began at the manor's red wooden gate, adorned with evergreen shrubs and polished glass lanterns. A pleasant silence surrounded the estate—one born of power and reverence.
Chen Hao, alongside Chen Wang, ascended the stone steps. The main door, engraved with two bronze dragons, opened quietly and effortlessly. The main hall was the beating heart of the manor; a high ceiling with lacquered beams, columns of jade stone, and calligraphic scrolls that carried the ancient teachings of the Chen family. The scent of sandalwood mingled with a hint of cinnamon drifted in the air.
At the center of this grandeur, seated on a wooden throne with a back carved in the image of stone lions, sat a middle-aged man—Chen Yuntian.
His hair was neatly parted and tied with a silver ring. His eyes were dark and penetrating, yet calm, like a lake at dawn. His thick eyebrows and gaze carried an innate authority that was impossible to ignore. A short, well-groomed beard gave his composed and noble face a divine dignity. Though his clothes were simple and dark, the silk fabric and traditional tailoring told of his elevated status.
Chen Hao instinctively slowed his steps. His heart beat faster, unbidden. Memories from past and present lives intertwined. A sense of estrangement mixed with a sense of belonging… His lips trembled, and for a moment, his eyes sparkled. A single tear formed beneath his eye but did not fall.
In a voice that was more a whisper than speech, he said:
– "Father…"
But Chen Yuntian, who slowly lifted his gaze from an old scroll and turned to his son, did not notice the tremor. A faint smile formed on his lips—a mixture of fatigue and joy.
– "So, you've finally unlocked your meridians."
His voice was deep and assured. A man who had led the Chen family for decades, he was too reserved to openly express emotions, yet warmth could be felt in his tone.
He continued:
– "Since the day I learned you were born with an unusual blockage in your meridians, my heart has not known peace. But... it seems the heavens still show mercy upon our family."
Chen Hao stepped forward.
– "Father… I tried. I couldn't just sit and wait. I had to find a way."
Chen Yuntian's gaze deepened. For a brief moment, in those eyes, an image of the past surfaced—a frail child with tired yet determined eyes. He whispered:
– "I will wield a sword and subdue a dragon beneath my feet, and bring pride to my father."
He remembered how persistent that small boy had been.
The two sat for hours in that silent, dignified hall, speaking of the past, the state of the city, the Chen clan, and even Chen Hao's hopes for the future. A few times, the father's sentences were interrupted by a soft cough, yet his face betrayed no sign of illness. For both of them, this meeting held a meaning far beyond a simple greeting; as if with every word, an invisible thread of reconnection was being woven.
As the sunlight began to tilt toward dusk, Chen Hao stood up. He gave a slight bow but paused before leaving. His voice lowered:
– "Father… may I ask a favor?"
Chen Yuntian nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
– "I… need some herbs and basic materials for my training. But… I don't have any money right now."
Chen Hao was deeply embarrassed. In his previous life, he had been a master alchemist. Money? It had meant nothing to him! But now he had to borrow silver. For a moment, he wished he could just slam his head against a wall.
A short silence followed his request. Chen Hao expected a question, or at least a suspicious look. But Chen Yuntian simply raised his hand and gestured to Chen Wang.
– "Wang, bring ten thousand silver from the auxiliary treasury. At once."
No questions. No hesitation.
Ten thousand silver?... That was a massive portion of the family's monthly income!
And Chen Hao...
Chen Hao wasn't shocked—but his heart warmed. In a family like the Chens, where every coin was spent with care, such generosity was rare. Perhaps for a patriarch, ten thousand silver was a modest sum. But for a son who, in his past life, hadn't even had a piece of bread, it was a gesture of immense trust.
Something stirred in his heart:
"This time… I will earn my place in this family with my own hands."
Chen Hao bowed deeply and softly said:
– "Thank you, Father."
And then, as silence once again draped over the grand hall, he left the manor with Chen Wang…
Chen Yuntian watched his son's retreating figure. When he disappeared from view, the patriarch let out a quiet sigh.
"Perhaps you can…"
---
Two days had passed since Chen Hao's visit to his father's manor. But far from the city of Green Sun, in a forgotten corner of the village of mortals, a very different scene was quietly unfolding.
The sun, half-veiled by a silver mist, cast a pale light upon the faded earth. Withered trees seemed to carry memories of life long past, and the scent of cold soil drifted through the air. Amid this stillness, in front of a hut made of reeds and clay, sat a young man in a cross-legged position—his face so divine, even the gods might abandon themselves in the mud before him.
Qiantai Wuji.
But if one looked closely, they would see no ripple of qi energy around him. His breathing was steady, yet aimless. He was only pretending.
At that moment, the faint rustle of approaching footsteps echoed from the narrow path leading to the hut. A tall young man with a basket in hand approached slowly. He wore a simple hemp robe, his hair already graying... Chu Li Meng.
Chu Li Meng offered a faint smile and said:
– "Young master… still cultivating?"
Over the past two days, he had changed how he addressed Qiantai Wuji. The young man's noble and serene demeanor had surprised even him.
He stepped forward, glanced around, and said in a sorrowful tone:
– "But… young master, there's no place left for cultivation here. This village has been barren for years. The qi energy dried up long ago. Even a dead tree branch testifies to that."
In the past two days, Qiantai Wuji had often entered meditation. Despite the lack of qi, he persisted again and again. At times, Chu Li Meng felt the young master was obsessed.
Qiantai Wuji, silent until now, opened his eyes. A gaze—sharp, cold, and aware. Unlike his indifferent expression in past days, now, his eyes held something else... knowledge of something hidden.
He slowly stood up. Dust clung to the hem of his robes, but his movements were calm and precise. He looked straight at Chu Li Meng and spoke in a soft but measured tone:
– "Do you still wish to pretend?"
Chu Li Meng was confused. – "What do you mean, young master?"
For a moment, he felt as though Qiantai Wuji had discovered everything. He wanted to act...
But it was already too late.
Without warning, Qiantai Wuji clenched his right fist. A swift, sharp motion—so fast even the air itself paused. His fist shot toward the old hut—not to destroy it, but with a deeper purpose.
The strike landed.
The sound of splintering wood and cracking clay rang out… But beyond that, something broke—something far beyond mere materials. The air rippled, the image of the world shimmered, and then…
Everything turned upside down.