Everything was calm.
Outside the window, the wind breathed with a gentle, rhythmic pulse. It was a soft, cooling breeze that carried the scent of distant rain and blooming jasmine. The sky was an infinite canvas of brilliant blue, decorated with wisps of white clouds that drifted lazily across the horizon. To anyone looking out from the hills, the land would have seemed truly peaceful—a painting of a world that had never known the bite of a blade or the spray of blood.
In the center of this tranquility, Zhung's eyes snapped open.
His pupils were dark, empty voids that seemed to swallow the light of the morning. He did not move immediately. Instead, he lay still, his gaze tracing the grain of the wooden ceiling beams. He felt his body; it was light, almost unnaturally so. The heavy, sluggish exhaustion of the battle had vanished.
However, as he shifted, a sharp, biting ache radiated from his back. It was the mark of the bandit's knife—a reminder that he was still made of flesh and bone.
The pain did not affect him. He had lived through enough deaths to consider a simple back wound an annoyance rather than an injury. He stood up with a fluid, mechanical grace. His feet touched the polished floorboards, and the cool wood felt grounding against his skin.
He turned toward a full-length mirror standing in the corner of the room. It was framed in dark, heavy iron, the metal cold and imposing. Zhung walked toward it, his reflection growing clearer with every step.
He saw himself.
He was wearing a white hanfu of high-quality silk, the fabric flowing around his frame like water. His long, brown hair was messy and dangling, falling in tangled waves over his shoulders. His face was a mask of perfect expressionlessness. He stared at the reflection, and for a heartbeat, he couldn't tell if that was even him he was looking at.
The boy in the mirror looked fragile, yet the soul behind the eyes was a graveyard.
Then, the surface of the mirror seemed to ripple. It was as if the glass had turned into the surface of a disturbed pond.
The reflection changed.
The white hanfu vanished. Suddenly, Zhung was staring at a man in a modern, dark blue security guard uniform. This man was older, his hair cut short and practical. His eyes were not black, but a brilliant, piercing blue. His expression was blank—the look of a man who spent his nights watching monitors and his days waiting for a paycheck.
This was the first Zhung. The security guard. The man who had died in a world of concrete and steel.
Zhung approached the mirror closer, his hand reaching out toward the glass. As his fingers touched the cool surface, the security guard vanished like a ghost in the fog.
The ripple returned, stronger this time.
The reflection transformed again. Now, it was a young man with long, black hair that was tied back neatly with a simple cord. He wore a heavy, black hanfu that seemed to absorb the shadows of the room. This man also had those brilliant blue eyes, but unlike the guard, this man was smiling. It was a gentle, knowing smile—the face of a Grandmaster who had finally understood the secrets of the heavens.
This was the second Zhung. The cultivator. The man who had been betrayed at the peak of his power.
Zhung leaned in even closer. He searched the eyes of the smiling man, looking for a trace of that old warmth. But as he drew near, the smiling man's face began to crack, the blue light of his eyes dimming until it was extinguished entirely.
The mirror settled.
It transformed back into the current him. He was the boy in the white hanfu once more. The hair was brown and untied, messy and wild. The eyes were dark, empty, and dead. There was no blue left. There was no smile.
His gaze was one of cold indifference—nothing more, nothing less. He looked tough and immovable, like a mountain that had stood for ten thousand years and would stand for ten thousand more, entirely unmoved by the storms that broke against its side.
He looked at the current him, accepting the coldness of his own reflection.
*This is the version that survives. The guard was too passive. The Grandmaster was too trusting. This Zhung... this one is a relentless, reckless soul.*
A rhythmic thumping sound echoed through the wood of the floorboards. Someone was coming.
Zhung did not turn his head fully. He merely shifted his eyes to the side as the door creaked open.
A girl entered the room. She was wearing an expensive hanfu of pale pink and gold, the embroidery shimmering under the sunlight. Her hair was pinned back with jade ornaments that clicked softly as she moved.
Zhung's empty eyes shifted to her face.
*Li Mei... Now, my investment didn't fail me. The gamble I took in that field has paid off. Now, the exchange of benefits will truly begin.* He kept his face like a sheet of ice, showing her nothing of his thoughts.
"Mister, you're finally awake!" Li Mei said.
Her voice was joyful, her tone light and airy. She rushed toward him with the enthusiasm of a grateful maiden.
Yet, Zhung felt something was wrong. His enhanced perception, sharpened by his Heart Aperture, caught the slight tremor in her hands. Her expression was stiff around the edges, a bit fake—a mask of deception that was poorly fitted. She wasn't just grateful; she was performing.
Zhung felt a flicker of amusement. He didn't know what she was hiding yet, but he felt that something interesting might happen.
He gave her a single, silent nod. He did not thank her. He did not ask how long he had been asleep.
"So... I'll have to leave to tell my father that you're awake," she said, her voice trailing off.
The scene was awkward. The silence between them grew thick and heavy, like smoke in a room without windows. Li Mei stood there for a moment, waiting for him to say something—anything—but Zhung did not care for social graces. He simply stared at her until she couldn't take the pressure of his gaze any longer.
She bowed quickly and left the room.
Zhung watched her close the door. The moment she was gone, his brow furrowed. He turned his attention to the room. It was far too opulent for a simple merchant's house.
He walked toward the window. Each step he took made a soft thump against the high-quality wood. His dark eyes reached the window frame, and his hand reached out to push the shutters open.
As the wood swung wide, the world rushed in.
Zhung's dark eyes widened. He forgot to breathe for a split second.
Directly in front of him, a large green serpent glided through the air. It was massive, its scales shimmering like emeralds in the morning sun. Someone was riding upon its head, holding onto a set of golden reins, guiding the beast with casual ease.
Zhung's gaze traveled past the serpent, and his heart hammered against his ribs.
This was not a village. This was not even a town.
He saw structures that defied the logic of his first life. Massive towers of white stone rose hundreds of feet into the air, connected by swaying bridges. Below them were clusters of huts and houses, sprawling like a sea of red-tiled roofs.
He saw blacksmith shops the size of warehouses, their chimneys belching rhythmic plumes of soot and sparks. He saw markets that stretched for miles, teeming with thousands of people who looked like ants from his high vantage point.
In the center of this urban sprawl was a large Manor, fortified by iron walls that stood twenty feet high. Every few yards, the iron was embossed with intricate carvings of rabbits—a strange, delicate symbol for such a powerful fortress.
He saw things he had only read about in the ancient scrolls of his second life. Cultivators walked the streets with beasts at their sides—giant wolves with fur like silver, birds with wingspans that could shade a house, and cats with two tails that glowed with a faint, inner light.
Zhung held his breath. He stared at the beauty of the empire, at its structures and its rich, bustling life. The obscure majesty of the Gue Empire's Western Frontier was laid bare before him. It was a world of high magic and brutal power, a place where a man could be a king or a slave based on the strength of his Will.
He did not blink for a long time. He just stared at the obscure empire.
He could only mutter a single word.
"Strange."
The world Zhung lived in was truly massive, and it was stranger than he had ever imagined. His first trial—the wolf, the bandits—that was nothing. That was a walk in the woods compared to the complexity he saw before him.
He knew then that his path would be uphill every step of the way. He would have to push forward, harder than ever, to see what the future held against him.
He turned away from the window as the door opened again. This time, it wasn't just Li Mei.
Two guards stood at the entrance, wearing leather armor reinforced with iron plates. Their faces were stern, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.
"Mister, the Master is ready to see you," one of the guards said. His voice was deep, lacking the feigned joy of Li Mei.
Zhung nodded. He walked between the guards, his white hanfu fluttering slightly. He noticed that the guards were wary of him. They didn't see a boy; they saw a predator in a silk robe.
They led him through the manor. The hallways were decorated with tapestries depicting great battles and serene landscapes. Every few feet, a vase of expensive porcelain stood on a pedestal. The wealth of the Thousand Rivers Merchant Association was on full display.
*They are showing off. They want me to feel small. They want me to know that they have everything, and I have nothing.*
He kept his gaze forward, his expression unchanged. He did not look at the tapestries. He did not look at the gold. He walked with the steady, rhythmic pace of a man who owned the air he breathed.
They reached a massive set of double doors made of dark oak. The rabbit carvings were here too, their eyes made of small rubies that seemed to watch him as he approached.
The guards pushed the doors open.
The room inside was a massive hall, filled with the scent of expensive incense. At the far end, sitting behind a desk made of a single piece of black marble, was a man.
He looked to be in his late forties. He wore robes of deep purple and black, with a collar made of white fur. His hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes were sharp—like the eyes of a hawk searching for prey.
This was Li Huang. The head of the Thousand Rivers Merchant Association. The father of the girl he had saved.
Li Mei stood to the side, her head bowed, her expression still stiff.
Zhung walked into the center of the hall and stopped. He did not bow. He did not speak. He simply stood there, his dark, empty eyes meeting the hawk-like gaze of the merchant.
The silence lasted for a long time. It was a battle of wills, a test to see who would flinch first.
Li Huang leaned forward, his rings clicking against the marble desk. A small, cold smile touched his lips.
"So," the man said, his voice echoing in the vast hall. "You are the one who saved my daughter and killed five men with a bone shard and a stolen sword."
Zhung remained unmoved. "I am."
"My daughter tells me you are a hero," Li Huang said, his smile widening, though it didn't reach his eyes. "But looking at you... I don't see a hero. I see a businessman. A man who understands the value of an investment."
Zhung's eyes didn't flicker. "Then we understand each other. I didn't save her for the sake of kindness. I saved her because she looked like she was worth the trouble."
Li Huang laughed—a short, sharp sound that was devoid of mirth. "Honesty. How rare in a teenager. Most boys your age would be stammering, trying to look virtuous in front of a wealthy man. But you... you are different."
The merchant stood up, walking around the desk. He was a tall man, commanding a presence that felt like a physical weight in the room.
"You saved a member of my family," Li Huang continued, stopping a few feet from Zhung. "In the Gue Empire, that creates a debt. But debts can be paid in many ways. They can be paid in gold... or they can be paid in service."
Zhung tilted his head slightly. "I am not interested in being a servant."
"Of course not," Li Huang said, waving a hand dismissively. "A wolf doesn't become a dog just because you feed it. But a wolf can be a partner. A wolf can hunt for the pack in exchange for the best meat."
He looked Zhung up and down, his eyes lingering on the boy's hands. "You are a Tin-rank cultivator with the combat instincts of a veteran. You have an Aperture that generates demonic blood. You are a rarity, boy. A dangerous rarity."
Li Mei looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. She hadn't realized her father had seen through Zhung so easily.
"What is your offer?" Zhung asked, his voice flat.
"I am headed to the Capital," Li Huang said. "The Western Frontier is growing restless. The war between the Empires and the Sects is heating up. I need someone who can move in the shadows. Someone who doesn't exist on any official register. Someone who can be my shadow."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I will provide you with techniques. I will provide you with blood-essence pills to stabilize your Heart Aperture. I will give you access to the resources of the Thousand Rivers. In return, you will ensure my interests are protected when the laws of the Empire cannot reach."
Zhung considered the mathematics of the offer.
*He wants a tool. A deniable asset. If I join him, I get the resources I need to reach Steel rank. I get a safe passage to the Capital where my mother is. But I also become a target for his enemies.*
He looked at the merchant, and then at the girl who was watching them with bated breath.
"I will accept," Zhung said slowly. "But on one condition."
Li Huang raised an eyebrow. "You are in a position to make conditions?"
"I am the one holding the blade," Zhung said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming cold enough to frost the air. "I will work with you, not for you. And the moment this partnership no longer benefits me, I will walk away. If you try to stop me... the rabbit carvings on your walls will be the only things left standing."
The guards tensed, their hands gripping their swords. Li Mei gasped, her face turning pale.
Li Huang stared at Zhung for a long heartbeat. Then, he threw his head back and laughed—a genuine laugh this time.
"A wolf indeed!" the merchant cried. "Very well. We have a deal, Zhung of the empty eyes. We leave for the Capital in three days. Do not make me regret this."
Zhung didn't answer. He turned on his heel and walked out of the hall, his footsteps echoing like a countdown.
The world was strange, and the people were dangerous. But as he walked through the iron gates of the manor, looking at the giant serpent circling above, Zhung knew one thing for certain.
He was the most dangerous thing in this city.
*Mom I truly regret leaving you.*
*I truly regret this choice but... I already made the choice and I must face the consequence that came from this choice.*
**End of Chapter 14**