"Bastard Kai! Prepare to die!" a furious roar echoed through the library.
Blinking away the afterimage of a fiery flash, I found myself standing beside a bookshelf. Around me, unconscious library patrons littered the floor, victims of the chaos. A crimson barrier of glowing runes shielded us from the maniacal arsonist—a barrier conjured by none other than the old man! My twin guards, Cho and Sho, flanked me, their blazing auras reignited, pulsing with searing heat. So much for my grand walk to prove I was alive.
"Satisfied?" Elder Mo Shan growled, glaring at me. "Decided to torch my library before you die?"
"Isn't the pyromaniac on the other side?" I gestured toward the enraged giant hurling spells at the barrier. Seriously, the man towered over my guards by two heads, his hanfu straining against a physique that screamed muscle mountain. Was there a gym hidden in this palace?
"And who do you think he's after?" Mo Shan snapped, jabbing a finger at the assailant. "Or do you reckon this oaf suddenly fancied a book?" As he spoke, several runes detached from the barrier, weaving into a net that ensnared the would-be assassin mid-cast.
"Bastard Kai, will you hide behind others your whole life?" the giant laughed, his voice booming with mockery. "Where's your pride, brother? Didn't you swear the heavens would fall before I could best you?"
Brother? A memory clicked into place. His was the first voice I'd heard when I awoke in this world. Was there anyone here who didn't want me dead?
"You talk of pride after attacking from behind?" I shot back, my words sharp as a blade. "Are you so scared of me, even now?" My taunt struck true. His face flushed crimson, veins bulging on his forehead.
"You want it fair?" he hissed, eyes blazing. "On the Night of the Moon Festival, a duel to the death! I'll rip your head off and carve a goblet from your skull!"
"Get out, you filthy cur!" Mo Shan interrupted, his voice cutting through the tirade. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the giant crashing through a window in a shower of glass. Turning to me, his tone softened, dripping with unsettling warmth. "You, boy, can come here whenever you like. Just don't damage my books."
A shiver ran down my spine. Why the sudden kindness? This couldn't be good. Still, I refused to give the old sorcerer the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.
"Thank you, Venerable Elder," I said, mimicking a bow.
"You brainless brat, forgot my name already?" he sneered. "I'm Mo Shan, Elder of the Golden Core's peak stage! Oh, right, you wouldn't remember that, would you? Read what you want—dead men don't spill secrets."
"What makes you so sure I'll die?" I asked, but Mo Shan only looked at me like I was an idiot.
"Young Master," Cho whispered, leaning close. "Your brother Huo has challenged you to a duel. Formally, as you've reached the peak of Meridian Tempering and initiated duels with him before, you cannot refuse. A legal technicality."
Mo Shan cackled, nodding. "Indeed. As an elder, I witnessed the challenge. If little Huo wins, I might not even punish him for this mess." He grinned, descending the stairs. "So much to do! Invitations to send—plenty of elders will want to watch this. Truly, the Heavens reward us as we deserve!"
"Is this Huo strong?" I asked the twins.
"Mid-stage Meridian Tempering," Cho shrugged. "His talent is extraordinary."
"Wait," I said, realization dawning. "I was stronger and younger than him?"
"You cultivated admirably," Sho replied, both twins averting their gazes. Something wasn't right.
This reeked of a setup, but oddly, I'd half-expected it. Not poison in my cup or a dagger in the dark, but a public duel? It played to my advantage. The elders and my many enemies would eagerly await my humiliation on the arena floor, cheering as this fire-hurling brute crushed me. After all, I was no longer a cultivator. For now, I could breathe easier—or so I hoped. The alternative was some vengeful clan member ambushing me outside the Pagoda of Knowledge. One or the other.
All I needed was to become strong enough in ten days to defeat a not-so-weak cultivator. Easy, right?
"When's the Moon Festival?" I asked.
"Ten days," Sho said, giving me an odd look. Of course, I'd "forgotten" such a trivial detail.
I nodded and returned to the bookshelf, miraculously unscathed by my brother's attack. As I browsed, servants quietly carried off the unconscious patrons. They were alive—either Huo's blast was a scare tactic, or Mo Shan and my guards had performed flawlessly. Why they'd fainted, though, was anyone's guess.
I skimmed the books, system prompts popping up intermittently. Every technique required Qi, which I sorely lacked. So, I started with theory.
A slim volume caught my eye: Origins of the Dao: Beginnings. Exactly what I needed—a beginner's guide to this world's magical system. After confirming with the twins that books couldn't leave the library, I settled at a table. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, and a crystal embedded in the desk glowed like a lamp. Convenient.
"The Dao is like a rushing stream. It can flow around a stone or grind it to dust." My eyes grew heavy. Stars glittered outside, and despite reading all ten theoretical tomes available, I barely grasped this world's magic. The texts felt like a blend of flowery fiction and philosophical ramblings. The only useful tidbit was the cultivation ranks:
Qi Condensation: Ten stages. Enhances strength, speed, and resilience. Gifted individuals can dabble in minor sorcery.Meridian Tempering: Three stages—Initial, Mid, Peak. True magic begins here: fireballs, flight, shields, and other spectacles.Core Formation: Three stages. Practitioners become walking Qi generators. One text recounted a noble Daoist turning a desert into a garden, followed by another leveling a city over cold tea.Spirit Birth and Celestial Awakening: Mentioned only as existing, powerful, and aspirational.
"How's your progress toward immortality, Young Master?" Sho asked as I shelved the books.
Oh, right. These stages didn't just enhance the body or enable magic—they extended lifespan. Even a beginner Qi Condensation cultivator could live a century or two. What about someone stronger? How old was Mo Shan, a Golden Core master who looked like a rotten potato? Three hundred years? A thousand?
"Not bad," I said, nodding. "Time to head back to my quarters. Escort me?"
"We dare not leave your side," Cho replied. "Except during the duel."
"Thanks for the reminder," I said, shooting him a sour look. "By the way, what were Father's orders if I'd stayed in my room as you advised?"
"You'd have died quietly and painlessly," he said, meeting my gaze. "The Shen Clan has no use for cowards or weaklings."
"And my dear brother Huo—was that your little play too?" I pressed, seizing the moment of candor.
"We had no intent to kill you," he shrugged, his meaning opaque.
We walked to my quarters in silence. No one bothered us, though I caught a few venomous, anticipatory glares. They didn't act—yet.
My room was unchanged, despite my nagging expectation of a trap—an assassin behind the curtains or a magical bomb. I even had the twins check. They nodded approvingly, assuring me it was safe. As I lay down, they resumed their lotus pose by my bed.
"Core Formation cultivators don't need much sleep," they said in unison, shrugging.
Core Formation? That explained a lot. My guards were elite sorcerers, meaning everything today—every attack, every encounter—happened with their tacit approval. A gut feeling told me this was mild compared to what my "family" was capable of. Was some fragment of the original Kai Shen still within me? The language, the fighting skills, the instinctive grasp of clan politics—had they survived because only cultivation knowledge was erased? And how had I ended up in his body? With those thoughts, I drifted into sleep.
I woke at dawn to a strange hum. Rubbing my eyes, I saw Cho and Sho standing back-to-back, crimson sparks drifting toward them. Was this Qi? It didn't take a genius to guess.
Curious, I tried catching a spark. Nothing happened, though that fleeting sensation brushed my senses again—spiritual perception, maybe, from my reading. It vanished quickly.
"Young Master!" the twins said, emerging from meditation.
"To the Pagoda of Knowledge," I said grimly.
Our peaceful walk was interrupted halfway by a group of troublemakers. They surrounded us, blocking our path.
"Oh, Brother Kai, I'm so glad you're alive!" a young woman stepped forward, her red-and-gold qipao shimmering. She was breathtaking—flawless skin, regal posture, and a predatory smile that had surely broken countless hearts. Yet I felt only an urge to flee.
"Liu Shen," Cho interjected. "Per the Phoenix Sect's code, you cannot attack Kai Shen while he has an open duel challenge."
My thanks, I suppose.
"Oh, I know," she purred, her smile widening. "I've studied our sect's code thoroughly and found many… nuances. I just wanted to ensure Brother Kai met Brother Huo."
"Why so blunt?" I snapped. "Where's the clever wordplay, the subtlety? You could've just said you sent that idiot Huo after me."
"You!" Her face flushed, clearly unprepared for my retort. "Bastard Kai, no point casting pearls before a dead man. I'll tell Huo to make your death slow!"
Her followers parted, and we moved to continue—until her voice struck like a venomous dart.
"On second thought, I'll ask him to kill you like they killed your mother. That'll be amusing. A reminder: trash begets trash."
Rage erupted within me, a wildfire consuming reason. My fists clenched, and the world dissolved into a maelstrom of churning energies. I wanted to tear her apart, to incinerate her. Instinctively, I reached for a blazing crimson stream radiating unbearable heat. Without understanding how, I raised my hand and—
"Young Master!" Sho's voice snapped me back. The twins gripped my arms, their hands glowing with some technique.
I stood on the stone path, shaking my head. The world returned to normal, and Liu Shen was retreating, her eyes wide with fear.
"It doesn't matter! You'll die anyway!" she spat, fleeing in disgrace.
"Young Master?" Cho asked.
"Stop with the 'Young Master' already," I grimaced. "Is there anything useful in that library?"
They exchanged a glance and stayed silent. Fine. I'd find it myself. I read quickly, and the books there were more pamphlets than tomes, printed on absurdly thick paper. With that thought, I pressed on.
"I'd recommend The Path of Heavenly Flame," Sho said suddenly at the library's entrance. "First floor, fiction section."
I nodded gratefully. A prank? Possibly. But worth a shot. Elder Mo Shan was absent, replaced by a man who shot me a disdainful glance but didn't approach.
The fiction section was massive, dwarfing the third floor's collection. Still, I found the book in an hour—an hour I could've spent reading a technique manual. I hoped it was worth it, but the twins' stone faces gave nothing away.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked after ten minutes of reading.
"Pardon, Young Master?" Cho raised an eyebrow.
"First, your 'Young Master' is driving me up the wall. Second, what is this book?" I shook the hefty tome. "Another test or trap?"
"Very engaging literature," Cho nodded. "Honorable Kai."
I glared at the pages. "Once upon a time, in a certain kingdom, there lived a boy…" No change. It was a fairy tale about a peasant striving to become a cultivator, not unlike the theoretical texts I'd read. But the book was long—impossibly so. I flipped through it for minutes, yet the pages seemed endless, defying logic. More bizarre magic?
"A pity," Sho sighed. "I thought this time you'd… Never mind. Honorable Kai, return to the third floor."
"What do you mean?" I asked, but they clammed up, pretending I hadn't spoken. Convenient.
I nearly followed their advice, but something stopped me—a sense of déjà vu. Leaving now felt like letting this book vanish forever. The story seemed hauntingly familiar, as if I'd heard it before. Nonsense? Or Kai Shen's memories surfacing?
I sank back into the chair and opened the first page, focusing my spiritual sense. It came easily. Beside me, the twins radiated immense power, yet felt like halves of a severed whole. The librarian and other patrons glowed faintly, and intricate patterns shimmered on the building and shelves. But the book? Nothing. A void. Even the chair held a spark of spiritual energy.
The effort snapped me back, blood gushing from my nose. My head spun, my hands trembling. No matter. I'd seen enough.
"Don't damage the book," the librarian grunted.
"Where's the real one?" I asked, panting. What I held was an illusion, a solidified spell meant to fool naive idiots who thought the Shen Clan would leave something valuable in plain sight.
"In the clan library's restricted section," Cho said. Pain stabbed my skull, a half-formed thought eluding me. "You don't remember?"
"A technique only the worthiest may wield," Sho added. "The one you, in your ignorance, tried to steal. The one that cost you your cultivation. You truly don't recall?"
My head felt ready to split, the elusive thought slipping away. Then I sensed it—a foreign wisp of energy in my mind. Were these bastards reading my thoughts? The moment I noticed, the energy vanished, and the pain receded. I sat in the chair, blood soaking my face and robes. The twins stood guard, as if nothing had happened.
"Third floor?" I asked, catching my breath.
"As you wish, Honorable Kai," they replied. "To make up for lost time, I recommend studying Blood of the Salamander. It's the best in open access."
A gut instinct told me Sho was truthful—perhaps old Kai's memories or sheer exhaustion making me gullible. On the third floor, I grabbed the book first.
Blood of the Salamander
Rank: Earth
Would you like to learn?
Cost: 1000 Qi
It was the only technique marked "Earth" rank; others were "Mortal" and cost ten times less. The problem? My Qi hadn't grown overnight, and my attempt to absorb it had failed. In my old world, I'd faced a similar paradox: you need experience to get experience. I'd solve this the same way—by leveraging connections.
"Got any Qi storage devices?" I asked.
"None, but you can use pills," Sho said.
"Pills?" I blinked, surprised. I'd read about them but forgotten entirely. The twins weren't telling the whole story, though—texts warned that pills could taint body and spirit or elevate one to unimaginable heights.
Before leaving, I tried studying the technique the old-fashioned way. The slim tome took nearly five hours to read, and the result?
"Nonsense," I muttered. Pages of drivel like "feel the power" or "become the branch burning in flame, yet also the flame consuming the branch."
"Many practice years to grasp the wisdom in these texts," Cho said sagely.
"How fast did I learn my first technique last time?" I asked.
"Three days," he replied instantly. Where did he get that info? Probably stashed my dossier under his pillow.
"And how long to reach Meridian Tempering?"
"Just over a year," Sho answered. Definitely a dossier.
"And you did it without pills," he added unexpectedly.
So, they wanted me to pop magical pills like a proper cultivator? Why not? At least I'd meet a local alchemist. No joke—an honorable profession. Texts claimed alchemy was among the few pursuits worthy of a Daoist.
No one bothered us this time, letting me admire the palace's splendor. I even spotted a guy flying on a giant sword but pretended it was normal. Happens every day, right?
The Alchemy Pavilion sat on the outskirts, understandably so—alchemy was occasionally explosive and, despite its nobility, rather foul-smelling. I confirmed the latter upon entering through massive iron gates. The vast hall brimmed with cauldrons of every shape and size, hundreds of disciples bustling about. Approaching us, with a smile like a kindly grandfather, was an old man with wispy whiskers. A very familiar old man—the one I'd once suggested retire.
"Oh, Kai Shen, what a pleasant surprise," he said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "Come to apologize to this useless old man?"
As he spoke, the iron gates slammed shut with a thunderous clang, and my so-called bodyguards took a synchronized step back.