Chapter 1: Rebirth in Ashes
The world was burning.
Above the shattered skies of the Divine Realm, the remnants of heavenly palaces fell like meteors. Rivers of golden blood ran down cracked mountains, staining clouds that once shimmered with celestial light.
At the heart of it all stood a lone figure—Tham Duong, draped in torn robes soaked with blood, his black hair billowing wildly in the storm. In his hand was the ruined hilt of the Heaven-Severing Sword, once the mightiest divine weapon of his age. Now, like its master, it was broken beyond repair.
Bodies lay around him: gods, devils, beasts, and men. He had killed them all. Friends. Enemies. Even the woman he once loved.
"Everything I've ever cared for… destroyed."
Lightning cracked across the heavens. From the torn veil between realms, a golden eye emerged—cold, divine, merciless.
The Heavenly Dao had arrived.
"You dared defy your fate, Tham Duong," it thundered. "You shattered the balance. You ascended through forbidden means. You killed what should not have died."
His knees buckled. His soul, already frayed from countless battles, began to tear apart. Yet his eyes remained steady.
"I only walked the path your heavens denied me."
The eye narrowed.
"For your crimes, you shall be erased—body, soul, fate, and memory."
A spear of pure law descended from the sky.
Tham Duong laughed—a bitter, tired laugh.
"Fine. If I must die... let it be with pride."
As the spear pierced his chest, a single thought burned in his mind:
If only… I could do it all again.
The world turned to darkness.
He awoke to warmth.
The scent of smoke, the rustle of trees, the distant chatter of chickens—familiar, painfully so.
Eyes fluttering open, Tham Duong found himself lying on a wooden bed in a small, bamboo-walled room. Sunlight filtered through rice paper windows. The ceiling… he knew this ceiling.
"No… it can't be…"
He sat up abruptly, breathing heavy. His hands—smaller. His chest—unscarred. A copper mirror hung near the bed. He rushed to it.
A youthful face stared back. Smooth skin. Black hair tied messily. Clear eyes without the weight of centuries.
"Seventeen…"
His voice trembled.
He staggered outside. The courtyard was exactly as he remembered—chickens pecking in the corner, his mother's herb garden, the water well by the tree.
He looked to the horizon.
That hill… That tree… the Linh Huyen Sect lies beyond it.
Memories surged.
He was seventeen years old, the very year he joined the Linh Huyen Sect, a third-rate cultivation school at the border of the Great Xu Empire. The year his fate had begun.
But now…
He clenched his fists. "I'm back."
He dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the earth.
"Heavens... I don't know why. But thank you."
Later that day, his mother—Madam Xu—returned from the village, her basket full of herbs. Her kind face lit up upon seeing him.
"You're awake! You slept past the rooster's third call. I was starting to worry."
He looked at her, heart pounding. She looked the same as he remembered—bright eyes, a bit thin from years of hard work, hands calloused but gentle.
In his past life, she had died during a demonic beast outbreak in the southern forests. He had been away at the sect, too weak, too slow to return.
"This time... I'll protect her. No matter what."
He smiled softly. "Sorry, Mother. Just had a strange dream."
She gave him a light tap on the forehead. "Less dreaming, more eating. You'll need strength. The Linh Huyen Sect is testing outer disciples tomorrow, remember?"
He nodded. How could he forget? That recruitment day marked the beginning of everything.
Betrayals. Power. Blood. Love. Madness. Ascension.
But this time… he would walk a different path.
That evening, Tham Duong sat cross-legged in his room, heart steady, mind clear.
In his previous life, it took him two years to break through Body Refinement and reach the Qi Condensation stage. That was considered average.
But now, with centuries of experience and deep knowledge of cultivation theory…
Let's begin.
He inhaled. Air flowed into his lungs, but he guided it deeper, drawing not just breath, but spiritual energy from the world around him. Threads of heavenly qi flowed into his meridians—thin, chaotic, sluggish.
"My meridians are still undeveloped. But my soul is old. I can guide the flow precisely."
He formed the Nine Breath Circulation, a foundational technique he learned at age thirty in his past life. It took him months to grasp it then.
Now, it came naturally.
His body trembled. The qi flowed, faster, smoother, like a river breaking a dam. His muscles tensed, his bones creaked.
Pain surged—but he endured it with ease.
"Compared to being flayed by a soul-forging demon… this is nothing."
Midnight passed.
When the rooster crowed before dawn, he opened his eyes.
Body Refinement, Layer 3. In one night.
He smiled.
As light bathed the horizon, Tham Duong stepped outside, stretching slightly. He could feel the strength in his limbs. His vision was sharper. Sounds crisper. The world more alive.
From across the path, a boy his age approached, carrying a practice spear.
"Yo, Duong! Ready for the recruitment today?"
It was Tien Hoa, a neighbor's son. Cocky, brash, and destined to die three years later in a border skirmish.
Tham Duong nodded. "Let's both give it our all."
Tien Hoa laughed. "You? Come on, your bones are soft as tofu. But hey, dream big!"
He walked off, chuckling.
Tham Duong watched him go, eyes calm.
Arrogance. Short-sightedness. The curse of youth.
He turned toward the hill in the east, beyond which the sect awaited.
"I've returned to the world of cultivation, to rewrite fate. This time…"
"I will seize the heavens."
Chapter 2: The Gate of Ascension
The morning mist clung to the valleys as the village came alive with excitement. Today was no ordinary day.
The Linh Huyen Sect, one of the many cultivation sects scattered across the Great Xu Empire, had sent their outer disciples to this region's villages to scout for potential talents. Though ranked only as a third-rate sect, the opportunity to join was still an honor many yearned for.
Children from all walks of life—peasants, hunters, blacksmiths, even orphans—lined up in the open courtyard of the village square. Some carried wooden weapons. Others held talismans passed down from ancestors. Most had never cultivated a day in their lives.
But for Tham Duong, this was a return to the start of everything.
"Name?"
"Tham Duong."
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
The outer disciple in blue robes glanced up, pen pausing. "You're... that herb boy from the southern hill, aren't you?"
Duong gave a short nod.
The disciple smirked. "Didn't expect someone like you to apply. You look a bit too delicate for the cultivation world."
Duong simply replied, "We'll see."
The disciple shrugged and gestured for him to step forward.
On the stone platform ahead stood an Aptitude Testing Stone—a waist-high monolith inscribed with glowing runes. It was an ancient artifact left behind by the sect's forebears, capable of measuring one's elemental affinity and spiritual roots.
The queue moved slowly.
Children stepped forward one by one, placing their palms on the stone. Some caused faint glows. Others barely sparked anything.
"Low-grade Fire Root."
"Water Root, weak affinity."
"No spiritual root detected."
With every failure, sighs filled the air.
Then came a cry of excitement—"A mid-grade Earth Root!"
Cheers erupted. The girl who had triggered it beamed with pride.
Eventually, it was Duong's turn.
He stepped up to the stone. The blue-robed disciple smirked, already preparing to dismiss him.
In my past life, I only awakened a low-grade Metal Root and barely passed the threshold. But this time…
His palm touched the cold surface.
For a moment, silence.
Then the stone exploded in light—brilliant threads of five colors burst forth, spiraling into the sky like a vortex.
The crowd gasped.
The disciple jumped back. "W-What the hell?!"
A second later, the light vanished.
The stone dimmed.
The sect disciple stared at it, mouth dry.
"Five Elemental Roots… in perfect balance..."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Duong stood calmly.
The disciple recovered quickly, clearing his throat and muttering, "Still… probably average-grade. Let's not get carried away."
He scribbled something on his parchment, refusing to meet Duong's eyes.
But behind the scenes, whispers had already begun.
Those who passed the test were given jade tokens engraved with the sect's crest and instructed to gather outside the village gate at noon.
Duong returned home briefly.
His mother packed him some dried meat, steamed buns, and a small pouch of spirit-soothing herbs.
"You've always been clever," she said softly, adjusting his robe. "Just… don't climb too fast. The higher you go, the further the fall."
He smiled gently. "This time, Mother… I won't fall."
She didn't understand the meaning behind his words—but her heart ached anyway.
By midday, a flying treasure arrived—a small bronze warship, floating just above the tree line, engraved with glowing formations.
The gathered villagers watched in awe as the disciples loaded the chosen recruits aboard.
Tien Hoa, who had also passed with a mid-grade Fire Root, clapped Duong on the back. "Looks like we're going to be brothers in cultivation, eh?"
Duong nodded absently, eyes fixed on the horizon.
In my past life, I spent five years in the Linh Huyen Sect barely advancing. I was mocked, bullied, nearly crippled in a spar. That won't happen again.
This time, he would shape the sect—not be shaped by it.
The journey took three hours by airship.
The Linh Huyen Sect rested atop the Cloud Serpent Range, nestled in a secluded mountain valley surrounded by jade cliffs, mystic pines, and flowing spirit springs.
As the ship descended, a massive stone gate came into view—carved with coiling dragons and phoenixes, inscribed with three ancient characters:
Linh Huyen Môn.
Duong inhaled deeply. The spirit qi here was richer, purer. It tingled against his skin.
They were led to a large stone square where inner and outer disciples gathered to evaluate the newcomers.
A stern elder stepped forward. Gray-haired but sharp-eyed, he wore black robes with silver trim.
"I am Elder Han, overseer of outer disciples. You may have been chosen, but only those with true ability will remain."
He clapped once.
"Form up. Sparring trials begin now."
Gasps echoed among the recruits.
"Fight? Already?!"
"I thought we'd get rooms first!"
But the elder's expression left no room for argument.
Duong smiled faintly.
Yes. This was where it began. I remember.
In his first life, he was beaten by a large boy named Lo Kiem, breaking two ribs and nearly losing his spot.
Now, as expected, Lo Kiem stepped forward, flexing his thick arms.
"Well, well. Looks like I get to pick first."
He pointed at Duong.
"You. I don't like your face."
Snickers came from the other recruits.
Duong stepped forward without hesitation, hands behind his back.
Elder Han gestured. "Begin."
Lo Kiem charged like a bull, fists glowing faintly with qi.
Duong moved only when the punch came within inches of his face.
With a twist, he slipped past the blow, grabbed Kiem's wrist, and slammed him onto the ground with a thunderous thud.
Dust flew.
Silence.
Kiem groaned, eyes spinning.
Duong dusted off his sleeves.
"I believe that's over."
Even Elder Han raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting..."
By the end of the trials, Duong had defeated four opponents without using a single technique—pure technique and precision.
The elder made a mark beside his name and muttered to an aide, "Keep an eye on this one."
Later that evening, Duong was assigned to a modest stone residence within the outer sect quarters.
Most of the other recruits celebrated, excited to start their cultivation journey.
But Duong sat alone under the moonlight, cross-legged, meditating.
His meridians had expanded slightly after the tests. Qi moved faster now.
I need a cultivation technique. The sect will give me one soon—but I can't afford to waste time on garbage.
In his past life, he was given the Clear Mist Manual, a basic Qi Condensation method. It took him three years to master.
But he remembered something more powerful—something hidden.
A legacy technique buried beneath the old pagoda in the outer sect library.
"If I'm right… I'll find the Void Serpent Sutra there. My first real advantage."
He opened his eyes, determination gleaming within.
That night, as the stars shimmered and the disciples slept, Tham Duong slipped into the shadows, heading for the forbidden section of the outer sect archives.
His rebirth had only just begun.
But the winds of destiny were already shifting.