Hundred years ago, when the great sects still shaped the skies and the land trembled beneath cultivators whose names carried the weight of entire dynasties, Lian Xuyin stood at the center of a world that both feared and revered him.
His presence commanded silence from mountains and storms alike, and the glow of his cultivation drew envy from rivals who could not catch up to his shadow. Yet the same brilliance that lifted him above countless masters ignited the greed of those who wished to bind what they could never surpass.
On the night the heavens dimmed and the spiritual currents shifted as if warned by fate itself, betrayal struck without hesitation, and the man once hailed as the Northern Blade vanished from the world
A cold breeze swept through the forest, carrying the scent of damp soil and fading night. Beneath the shadow of tall trees lay a young man whose chest rose and fell with slow, uneven breaths. His eyes opened without rush, revealing a sharp gleam that did not belong to someone weak.
Silence pressed against him from every direction. Only the wind moved, brushing fallen leaves across the ground. The stillness felt strangely familiar, like the quiet moment before a fatal strike. He lay there, listening to the distant whisper of branches, letting the chill sink into his bones.
When he finally pushed himself upright, his body trembled. Strength drained from his limbs before they could even support him. His breath slipped out in a low exhale as he stared at his hands, thin and pale enough to belong to someone near the end of life. A flicker of irritation crossed his face at the sight of such fragility.
He attempted to reach inward for the force that once surged through every vein, but the inner world he found held almost nothing. Instead of roaring power, he sensed only a faint ember, close to dying at any moment. The weakness clawed at him, reminding him that the form he now occupied had been broken long before he arrived.
Memories began to rise—stray pieces of a life filled with humiliation. A quiet student at Tianhe Mountain Sect. Jiang Seryu, a name whispered only out of pity or mockery. Bullied until breath was pushed from his lungs. Ignored by instructors who believed he would never stand above the lowest ranks. Nights spent alone, bruised body curled tightly to keep the pain from spreading.
His final moment came without witness. No one heard his last breath. No one noticed the life that slipped away.
The weight of those memories settled inside the man now wearing that name. He slowly forced himself to stand, using a tree trunk to stop his weak legs from giving out. His fingers dug into the bark as he steadied himself, and his eyes narrowed with quiet calculation.
The world around him felt empty compared to the era he once knew. The air held little force, and even the land seemed to lack the sharpness he remembered. It was as if time had thinned everything he once sharpened with his own hands.
He scanned the forest with calm focus. The darkness in his gaze did not belong to someone who feared hardship. It belonged to someone who had carved his path through blood and silence, someone who did not forget betrayal, someone who had never bowed even when surrounded by enemies.
This frail shell might break with a single strike, but the will inside it would not bend.
He stepped forward, leaving faint marks on the ground as he walked toward the faint light seeping through the trees. Each movement came with careful pace, yet his expression remained composed. Jiang Seryu had been a forgotten boy, but the presence within him now carried a shadow deeper than any fear those who once tormented the boy could imagine.
The forest watched quietly as he disappeared through the mist, and the wind stirred again, almost as if recognizing something that should have remained buried.
A new future waited beyond the trees, but it would not be gentle.
It would bleed.
The chill in the forest deepened as Lian Xuyin steadied his breathing. The new body felt weak, but the memories were becoming clearer. Jiang Seryu had spent many nights walking this forgotten path, hiding bruises beneath loose robes, swallowing insults from other students, and forcing a smile he never believed in.
Those memories drifted through Lian Xuyin's mind like broken fragments, each piece showing the quiet suffering of the boy who once owned this body. The Tianhe Sect was close, yet Seryu always remained far from the others, avoiding crowded halls and empty courtyards because even footsteps behind him made him flinch.
Lian Xuyin raised his hand and let the faint moonlight show the trembling fingers that did not belong to him. He studied them slowly, taking in every weakness. Jiang Seryu had truly lived a lonely life. No Instructor guided him. No student spoke kindly. No elder even remembered his name when they recorded new ranks.
The weight of that life settled around Lian Xuyin like a cold fog.
He crouched beside the ritual circle and examined the dried blood. Seryu had used an old summoning scroll, the kind that could shatter a spirit if misused. The boy had risked everything just to escape a life filled with hopeless days. He did not know he would die from it, yet his heart had cried for someone stronger to take his place.
That cry had pulled Lian Xuyin from the silence of death.
A faint wind moved through the trees. Leaves swayed overhead while shadows stretched along the ground. Lian Xuyin rose to his feet and began walking through the forest path that Seryu had walked so many times before. Every step told him more about the body he now carried. The muscles lacked training. The bones felt light. The meridians held almost no spiritual strength at all.
Yet something else lingered beneath the weakness.
A quiet determination.
A small, steady will that refused to break, no matter how much the world pushed it down.
Lian Xuyin paused when he reached a fallen tree. Seryu often sat there, hiding from the Tianhe sect lights, whispering small hopes into the dark. That memory rose again, gentle but painful.
"This boy lived with fear… yet he still wished to stand," Lian Xuyin murmured. His voice echoed softly through the trees. "He wished to change his life, but no one reached for him."
The forest grew silent as he continued forward. Moonlight spilled through a break in the branches, and the distant lanterns of Tianhe Mountain Sect finally came into view. The Tianhe Mountain Sect that ignored Seryu. The sect that once trembled at the mention of Lian Xuyin.
The two lives merged inside him like fire meeting frost.
He stopped at the edge of the trees and looked at the quiet buildings glowing under the night sky. Students were asleep. Elders were resting and guards walked slowly along the walls, unaware that someone new had stepped into their world.
Jiang Seryu would have kept his head down, hoping no one noticed him.
Lian Xuyin had no such habit.
"Since fate placed me in this boy's life," he whispered, "then I will walk his path until the heavens themselves bow."
There was no threat in his voice. Only a cold promise that slid through the forest like a blade.
He moved toward the gate, the moon behind him casting a long shadow across the ground. The weak body struggled, but it followed his will without question.
Lights flickered on the sect walls as he approached. For the first time in a hundred years, those old stones were about to witness the return of someone the world had forgotten.
Lian Xuyin stepped through the gate simply, without hesitation, without fear.
The boy who summoned him had vanished.
The night air shifted the moment he crossed the gate. The courtyard stones were cool beneath his steps, and the quiet surrounding the area felt heavier than the forest he had left behind. Dim lanterns hung from the walkways, swaying gently with every whisper of wind. Most students slept in their dorms, leaving it still and almost hollow.
Lian Xuyin walked deeper into the grounds, letting Jiang Seryu's memories guide him past training fields and halls. The path felt familiar to the body he carried, yet completely foreign to the soul inside it. Every corner reminded him of how the boy used to move—slow, cautious, always prepared to flinch when someone called his name.
He paused before a small practice yard. The dirt floor showed faded footprints from many drills, but Seryu's marks barely existed among them. The boy rarely trained in open spaces. He always waited until everyone left, then practiced alone with hands that shook from lack of strength. Those memories surfaced clearly, showing long nights of effort that never matched the expectations of the teachers.
Lian Xuyin stood there quietly, letting the weight of the memories settle. The boy had struggled, not because he lacked desire, but because no one had ever guided him. In a place built to shape talent, Seryu had wandered like a ghost.
A faint ache spread through the borrowed body, reminding Lian Xuyin of the ritual's cost. The summoning had drained nearly all the remaining strength. Even breathing felt shallow. He tested the flow of spiritual energy through the meridians and found them thin, brittle, and almost closed. A body like this would crumble under any real technique, yet he did not rush to test its limits. Battles could wait. Understanding came first.
He left the practice yard and headed toward the disciple quarters. Jiang Seryu's small room rested in a shadowed corner near the outer wall. Others rarely passed that way, and the silence suited the boy who once lived there.
When he reached the wooden door, a stillness settled over him. The body stiffened for a moment, reacting to memories of days spent curling up inside that dim space, escaping mockery from stronger students. Lian Xuyin pushed the door open and stepped into the narrow room.
The faint scent of old books lingered in the air. A small desk sat beneath a cracked window, covered in worn scrolls that the boy had read countless times. The bed in the corner looked thin but tidy, as if Seryu had kept everything neat in an attempt to hold some part of his life together.
Lian Xuyin sat on the edge of the bed, allowing the body to rest while his mind examined every detail of this new life. He placed a hand against his chest and felt the weak heartbeat beneath his palm. The softness of it contrasted sharply with the memories of power that still lived within him.
He closed his eyes, searching inward for any fragment of his old strength. A faint spark responded, buried deep within the fragile meridians. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to confirm that his spirit had not been entirely sealed away by the rebirth.
He exhaled slowly, letting the weak body settle around that spark. No anger rose within him. No frustration. Only a quiet acceptance of reality and an understanding of what must be done. The path ahead would not be easy, but difficulty had never stopped him before.
A soft knock echoed from outside the door, gentle yet hesitant. It did not belong to a bully, nor to a Instructor searching for someone to scold. The sound belonged to someone who did not wish to disturb the silence. Lian Xuyin remained still, letting the body remember. Jiang Seryu had only one person who ever knocked like that—a timid classmate who rarely spoke but sometimes brought leftover bread when the boy skipped meals.
Lian Xuyin opened his eyes as the knock came again, slightly louder this time.
"...Seryu? Are you awake?"
The voice carried uncertainty, as if the speaker expected no answer.
Lian Xuyin rose from the bed and approached the door, the weak legs steadying with each step. He placed a hand on the handle and paused for a heartbeat, letting the forest chill fade from his thoughts.
Then he opened the door.
The door opened with a faint wooden creak, and the lantern light from the hallway revealed a thin figure standing outside. The young boy held a small cloth bundle close to his chest, his posture narrow, as if he feared being seen by anyone else. His eyes widened when he saw Lian Xuyin's steady gaze.
"...Seryu, I thought you were resting," the boy whispered. His voice trembled in the quiet hall, unsure whether he had come at the right time.
Lian Xuyin studied the visitor through Jong Seryu's memories. The boy's name surfaced slowly—Mu Jinhan, one of the few students who never mocked Seryu. He rarely spoke to others, but he shared fragments of kindness whenever he could, quietly leaving food when he noticed Seryu skipping meals.
Jinhan shifted his feet nervously. "The seniors were louder than usual tonight. I thought you might be hungry, so I saved something from the kitchen." He held out the cloth bundle with both hands, afraid it might fall.
Lian Xuyin accepted the bundle without rushing. As he loosened the cloth, the warm scent of steamed buns drifted out. The body reacted with a faint ache in the stomach, reminding him that Seryu had not eaten since afternoon. He nodded slightly, an acknowledgment that came naturally despite the new life.
"You always disappear during the evenings," Jinhan continued, glancing toward the dark hallway to make sure no one else had followed him. "The Instructor won't notice, but the older students get annoyed when they don't see you around the training grounds. I thought something happened again."
The concern in the boy's voice held no judgment, only quiet worry. It felt unfamiliar to Lian Xuyin, whose past had been filled with fear and obedience rather than gentle kindness. Yet Jiang Seryu had held those small moments close to his heart. Those memories flickered at the edge of his thoughts, showing a timid smile Seryu once gave when Jinhan offered food on a cold night.
"You shouldn't walk around this late," Lian Xuyin replied. His tone was calm, steady, and nothing like the soft voice Seryu once used. Jinhan blinked in surprise, but he did not step back. Instead, confusion crossed his expression as he searched for the reason behind the sudden firmness.
"I only came because you didn't return," he said quietly. "If I stayed in my room, I wouldn't feel right."
A cold breeze slipped through the open doorway, brushing against both of them. Lian Xuyin stepped aside and motioned for Jinhan to enter, allowing him to escape the chill. The boy hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Jinhan placed the second bun on the desk and looked around the small room. "Were you studying again? Your lamp wasn't lit, so I wasn't sure."
Lian Xuyin remained near the window, observing the dim academy lights outside. The sky carried the stillness that often settled before dawn, and the forest shadows stretched toward the courtyard. He considered the boy's question but decided not to speak about the ritual that had changed everything.
"I needed time alone," he answered. The words were simple yet honest enough.
Jinhan nodded, accepting the reason without doubt. "If anyone bothers you tomorrow, tell me," he said softly. "I know I'm not strong, but I can stay with you during the drills."
The body reacted again, this time with a dull warmth behind the chest. Jiang Seryu had longed for companionship, even if it came from someone who shared the same fears. The memory of that longing mixed with Lian Xuyin's own quiet thoughts, creating a strange balance between two lives.
"You have a kind heart," Lian Xuyin said. The comment surprised Juhan, who lowered his gaze shyly.
"I just don't like seeing someone alone," he murmured.
The room fell into gentle silence. Outside, the faint sound of a guard's footsteps echoed in the courtyard, slow and steady. The academy appeared peaceful on the surface, but Lian Xuyin sensed the hidden currents beneath it—rivalries, pride, ambition, and the quiet suffering of those left behind.
Jinhan gathered himself after a moment and stepped toward the door. "I should return before anyone notices I'm gone," he said. "If you need anything, knock on my door."
He opened the door, letting the lantern glow spill into the room once more. Before leaving, he gave one last glance, unsure why Seryu felt different tonight. Something had changed, but he could not name what it was.
"Good night, seryu," he whispered before walking down the hall.
The door closed gently behind him, leaving the room quiet once more.
Lian Xuyin stood alone, feeling the night deepen around him. The weak body carried the emotions of its former owner, while his own memories watched from the shadows of his mind. The two lives were slowly merging, not through force, but through moments like this—quiet, ordinary, and strangely human.
He looked at the steamed bun on the desk.
Then at the moon through the narrow window.
Then at the room that slept without knowing what had changed.
The night passed without haste, and the room held its silence as he prepared for the next step of this unfamiliar life.
The quiet in the room did not last. Heavy footsteps echoed from the lower hall and crept toward the dormitory stairs. Each step struck the boards with rough weight, spreading a harsh rhythm through the night. Lian Xuyin felt the body react before the sound reached his door. Jong Seryu had heard that pattern many times. It belonged to someone who enjoyed fear more than sleep.
The steps grew louder as they turned the corner. Laughter followed, low and cruel, as if the owner already tasted the thought of a weaker target. Lian Xuyin stood still beside the desk, the bun untouched, while the memory inside the body tightened his pulse. He did not move, yet the air grew colder with every beat of those approaching feet.
The door at the end of the hall slammed open. A voice rose, sharp and mocking, calling out for the boy who once hid from everyone. No answer came from the other rooms. Students knew the sound and kept silent, afraid to draw attention. The bully's voice moved closer, dragging shadows with it as he stomped along the hall.
"Where is that useless brat," the voice growled. "He should be here. He always hides like a rat."
Lian Xuyin stepped away from the window. He did not fear the man outside. The memory of his past life stood behind him like a shadow with a blade. Yet the body he held had trembled under this voice long before he arrived, and those old fears tried to rise again. He pushed them down, steady and firm.
The footsteps stopped right outside his door. A fist pounded against the wood with rough force. Dust shook from the frame, and the hinges groaned under the impact. The bully struck again, louder than before, as if he wanted the whole hall to hear.
"Seryu," he shouted, "open the door before I break it."
Lian Xuyin reached for the handle with calm control. The body felt weak, but the soul behind it did not bend. He opened the door with slow movement, revealing a tall figure leaning forward with a crooked grin on his face. The bully's eyes carried the same arrogance that once made Jong Seryu flinch. That arrogance died the moment he saw the expression staring back at him.
Jiang Seryu's old eyes had always avoided direct contact. Tonight, they held a different presence. Dark, steady and cold enough to freeze the words on the bully's tongue. The corridor seemed to narrow under that gaze, and the lantern light behind the man flickered as if touched by an unseen wind.
The bully straightened his posture. His grin tried to return, but it faltered when the silence did not break. No fear leaked from the boy in front of him. No shame either. Only a quiet stillness that felt deeper than the night.
"You did not answer earlier," the bully said, voice dropping. "Did you forget how to greet someone who stands above you?"
Lian Xuyin stepped out of the doorway. The light behind him revealed the faint bruises left on this body by past beatings. Those marks did not shape his posture anymore. He met the bully's eyes without a hint of retreat.
"What do you want," he asked. His tone was even, strong in its simplicity, and nothing like the voice Jiang Seryu once used. It carried weight, and that weight pushed against the bully's pride.
The man blinked, confused by the shift. "You sound bold," he muttered. "Did someone teach you to speak like that while you were crawling in the forest?"
Lian Xuyin did not answer. His silence pressed deeper than words. The bully stepped closer, trying to reclaim control, but the air felt heavy now, as if the corridor itself watched.
"Maybe I should remind you of your place," the man said. "Kneel, or—"
He did not finish the threat.
The lantern above them flickered again, and the shadows along the walls stretched behind Lian Xuyin like dark smoke. For a brief moment, the bully felt something cold travel along his spine, a chill that did not belong in the warm hallway. It felt like a warning from something unseen, something old, something dangerous.
Lian Xuyin's voice cut through the silence with quiet force.
"Whatever power you had over me, ends here!," he said.
The bully opened his mouth to speak, but no sound escaped. His throat tightened as if the darkness behind the boy had reached out and wrapped around him. His eyes darted left and right, searching for the weakness he expected, but he could not find it. Instead, he saw a presence that did not belong to someone weak.
"How… how dare you talk like that," he stammered.
Lian Xuyin stepped closer, slow and controlled. The weak body should have wavered, yet his posture stayed firm. The bully backed up without meaning to, his boots scraping against the wooden floor.
"You will not raise your hand in this hall again," Lian Xuyin said. "Not against me. Not against anyone who cannot fight back."
The bully swallowed hard. The hall felt tighter with every breath. The boy he used to torment no longer looked like prey. Something far older stood in his place.
The door beside them opened slightly. A sleepy student peeked out and froze when he sensed the tension. He quickly shut the door again, not wanting to be part of whatever stood in the corridor.
The bully stepped back another pace. His voice cracked as he tried to regain pride. "Tomorrow… we will see who stands above who."
He turned sharply, nearly tripping as he hurried down the hall. His steps no longer echoed with confidence. They carried fear.
Lian Xuyin watched him leave, calm and silent.
The night around him did not soften.