Li Wei woke up to pain.
Not the dull ache of sore muscles, but the sharp, lingering kind that sank into his bones and refused to let go. His ribs throbbed with every breath. His head felt heavy, as if it had been split open and crudely stitched back together.
He stared at the cracked wooden ceiling for a long time before blinking.
"This again…"
Two weeks.
It had been two weeks since he woke up in this body.
Two weeks since he died on Earth.
He remembered it clearly.
A late night. A truck. Headlights cutting through the rain. The brief, weightless moment before everything went dark.
Then—pain.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer on Earth. He was lying in a shabby room inside a cultivation sect, memories that didn't belong to him flooding his mind like a broken dam.
This body was also named Li Wei.
A nobody.
A Qi Gathering cultivator—barely.
And worst of all, a punching bag.
Li Wei slowly sat up, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his side. His cultivation was weak—Qi Gathering Level Two—but even that felt… wrong.
Empty.
Like something was blocking it.
He closed his eyes and tried to circulate qi.
Nothing.
Not even a trace responded.
A familiar, cold sensation surfaced in his mind.
[System Notification]
[Cultivation sealed due to failed combat condition.]
Li Wei's expression darkened.
"Again…"
Every time.
It was always like this.
The memories surfaced uninvited.
Two weeks ago, shortly after he arrived in this world, the original owner of this body had been dragged into the outer courtyard of the sect.
By a bully.
Zhao Yuan.
A disciple from a slightly better background, slightly stronger cultivation, and infinitely more arrogance. Someone who enjoyed stepping on weaker disciples to remind himself that he existed.
The original Li Wei had tried to resist.
Just once.
He had clenched his fists. Circulated qi. Tried to fight back.
And the moment hostility formed—
His cultivation had vanished.
Sealed completely.
He had been beaten until his breathing stopped.
That was how Li Wei inherited this body.
The door creaked open.
A girl stepped in quietly, carrying a bowl of steaming medicinal soup. She froze when she saw him sitting up.
"You're awake!"
Her voice was soft, relieved.
She hurried over, almost tripping on the uneven floor. She wasn't powerful—her cultivation was weak, barely Qi Gathering herself—but her movements were gentle, careful.
This was Su Qing.
An outer disciple like him. Poor background. No talent worth mentioning.
But kind. Unreasonably kind.
She had been the one to secretly carry him back after Zhao Yuan left him bleeding in the dirt.
She had taken care of him ever since.
"You shouldn't be moving," she scolded lightly, placing the bowl down. "Your injuries haven't healed yet."
Li Wei looked at her and felt something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.
In two weeks, she had never once asked him for anything. Never complained. Never looked down on him.
In a world ruled by strength, that made her rare.
"I'm fine," Li Wei said quietly. "Thank you… again."
She smiled, embarrassed. "It's nothing. Just… drink this. It'll help."
As she helped him drink the bitter soup, Li Wei's gaze drifted to the window.
Outside, he could hear laughter.
Zhao Yuan's voice.
Arrogant. Carefree.
Alive.
The System's cold voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
[New Mission Issued]
[Objective:• Reach Qi Gathering Level 7]
[• Kill Zhao Yuan within one second]
[Reward:]
[• Unlock Fate Execution]
[• Cultivation Seal Immunity (Conditional)]
[• Lifespan Ledger]
[Failure:Permanent suppression risk]
Li Wei's fingers tightened.
Qi Gathering Level Seven.
In this body, even reaching Level Three would normally take years.
And killing Zhao Yuan in one second?
Head-on?
Right now, that was impossible.
But the System did not care.
It never did.
That night, after Su Qing left, Li Wei sat cross-legged on the hard bed.
He didn't sleep.
He cultivated.
Slowly. Carefully.
He did not dare generate killing intent. Did not dare imagine fighting. He focused only on breathing, circulation, control.
Bit by bit, faint threads of qi responded.
Pain stabbed through his meridians.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
But Li Wei didn't stop.
"I can't afford enemies," he whispered to himself.
"I can't afford mistakes."
"And I definitely can't afford to hesitate."
Outside, the moon rose high.
Somewhere in the sect, Zhao Yuan laughed again—unaware that for the first time, the man he thought he had beaten to death was calmly calculating the exact second of his demise.