Chapter 1 — Reincarnation
It happened.
On that day, Feng Han was studying for his final year university exams. He sat at his desk, buried beneath piles of papers and books riddled with markings. He sat for hours as his fingers raced against time, giving occasional nods and foolish smiles as though he were finally understanding something.
The sun rose and set. From dawn to dusk, he had taken breaks only to eat and refresh himself. Surprisingly, his focus never wavered. It was as if his life depended on it.
Finally, past midnight, a soft tap sounded as he set his pen down. He let out a sigh of relief, stretched his arms, and stood up. He slid open the glass balcony door and stepped outside.
The balcony was not very large — barely 3×5 ft. But it was enough for Feng Han's lean figure to stretch.
A cold wind blew in, carrying frozen droplets with it. The potted plants in the corner swayed as if they might freeze overnight.
A warm breath misted from Feng Han's mouth as beads of sweat lined his forehead. He took in deep lungfuls of fresh air and his dull eyes began to shine with renewed life.
He leaned against the railing and looked up at the clear night sky — a full moon, a scattering of stars.
One day.
Just one more day.
After that, I will be free... My last day at university... The last exam will be over by the afternoon and soon... I will have my freedom...
I will be able to go away and find my... happiness...
The cold wind continued to caress his body as he closed his eyes to finally rest. The world seemed to hold its breath, as if unwilling to disturb him... But something was off.
It was...
Too quiet.
That night was exceptionally dark despite the cloudless sky. Moonlight spilled across the world, yet shadows seemed to lurk just behind the light.
At that moment, who could have known it was the awakening of something terrible?
Even those who knew — who would believe it? Who would prepare?... Could they even prepare?
Night fell.
A new day began.
★ — ★ — ★
The entrance to the exam hall buzzed with students. Some chattered nervously. Some chewed their nails. Some looked relaxed. Some looked confident and proud. Some held a book in one hand and their notes in the other. Some debated the future. Some bribed the hall workers. Some were quietly rehearsing backup plans to cheat...
All in all, it looked very lively.
Ring~
The bell rang. Students filed into the hall one by one, each checked for unfair means at the entrance.
The exam began.
Students sat in their designated seats with gloomy expressions — not because the paper was too difficult, but because of a certain presence playing a game of cat and mouse with them.
One who held dominion over one of the most philosophical concepts in the world.
The ruler of time... The Clock!
What? You thought it was that Chronos fellow?
Bah! That old relic belongs to the past.
This is my era!
All Hail The Clock!
Hail Clock Supremacy!
The clock grinned, moving agonizingly slow during lectures but blurring faster than light the moment exams began — leaving students cursing under their breath.
No matter how the throne of the Time Ruler changed hands, there was no escaping. Even in hopeless struggle, they had to give their all. So they struggled, and dragged themselves forward, just to see the end of it.
At last.
4:30 p.m.... Students burst out of the hall and tore open the notes and exam papers that had weighed on them.
"HAHAHA. Screw you, Clock."
"Heh. Clock Supremacy? Tsk."
"Everyone! Say it with me."
"1... 2... 3... 4..."
"Screw Clock Supremacy!"
The clock, which had been grinning for the past eight hours, now sat perfectly still and expressionless — as if nothing in the world could touch it.
Just one round...
Don't fly too high, my little fledglings. I fear you've forgotten how to land.
"We will fly! Fly so high you won't even see our backs!"
"Yeah!"
Like a monk suddenly possessed, the clock's expression shifted — a slow, wicked grin spreading across its face.
I hope you fly so high that no one can reach you... so that when you fall, not even your pieces remain... My little fledglings.
As if struck by cold water, the students shuddered and grasped the hidden meaning.
Everything — literally everything — depended on time. Take something simple: you agree to a date with someone you like, at a certain hour. Being late once could be forgiven. But more than once? It wouldn't stop there either. Their every schedule, the very rhythm of their lives, would begin to unravel...
A chill ran through the students. They hurriedly began softening their tone toward the Clock. Master Clock. But the Clock remained indifferent.
No one noticed, in that moment, a certain individual quietly slipping away from the crowd.
His pace was unhurried at first. But the moment he rounded the corner and was out of sight... he sprinted. He moved with such speed that passersby were left blinking in his wake.
Yet what no one knew was that the person causing all that bewilderment wore an expression far more shocked and terrified than any of them.
★ — ★ — ★
At the dorms.
Feng Han's room.
The door was yanked open and shut with precision.
Clack~
Feng Han locked it immediately. But he didn't stop there. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something heavy enough to serve as a barricade.
He shoved his bag aside and wrestled with the nearby wooden desk, straining to drag it against the door.
A few minutes later, with the desk firmly in place, Feng Han sank to the floor, head down.
His pale face had turned red from the sudden rush, and his breathing was ragged. His hands and feet trembled as though drained of blood.
His eyes were wet. Tears streaked his face. But he forced himself not to scream.
Only after a long while — once his breathing steadied and his tears dried — did he manage a single word in a hollow voice.
"What the..."
Since when did clocks talk?!
And why were the other students in bizarre costumes? Even past that — why in the world would the examiner join a cosplay on exam day?! For the sake of all things sane, has the world gone mad? Or had he lost his mind from over-studying?
Even with his outward calm restored, Feng Han's inner storm raged on.
But before the rant could continue, he felt something wet beneath him — and froze. It wasn't that he had been scared beyond himself; his mental fortitude was simply higher than most. So what was that liquid, if it wasn't his?
Before he could think further, his mind went dark.
Just before the end, he felt a strange sensation wash over his entire body... as if being swallowed whole...
★ — ★ — ★
In a certain world.
In a certain pavilion.
A soft voice spoke, calm with quiet realization.
"So those were my last moments in my previous life, huh."
"I can't remember most of it. But I am almost certain I've been reincarnated. And as a coincidence — same name, same gender."
Feng Han said as he looked at himself in the mirror.
He was bare.
His body was that of a young boy, baby fat still clinging to certain spots. His eyes were clear and child-like, brimming with curiosity. Yet beneath that innocence, his black eyes held something deeper — like a still abyss.
"Young Master!"
"Young Master Han — you need to put your clothes on."
"If you don't dry off and dress after your bath, you'll catch a cold. And if that happens, we won't be able to answer to Madam."
A flurry of voices rang out in the corridor, followed by hurried footsteps. Four beautiful maids in white robes swept in and surrounded Feng Han in an instant.
"Young Master... why are you staring at your reflection?"
Feng Han blinked out of his thoughts and shook his head.
"Oh. It's nothing."
His gaze swept across the four maids and quickly landed on the one holding his clothes.
"Dress me. Today is a special day." He said it casually, unbothered by the stares at his bare self.
He had been through this countless times already. It wasn't a problem. He was only a child, after all.
The maids nodded without hesitation and set to work — towelling him dry, then dressing him with practiced efficiency. When they finished, they exchanged satisfied, proud little smiles.
Feng Han, dressed in golden-white robes with a single earring on his left ear, looked quite adorable. Like a young prince.
"Thank you." He offered the maids a polite nod and drifted out into the corridor.
As he walked, he turned over his memories — comparing what he recalled with the world now around him.
In my previous life, I was a university student chasing some kind of goal. For reasons I still can't fully grasp, I died. Now, in this second life, I've been reborn as the eldest son of the Feng family of the Luo Kingdom.
It's been nine years since I arrived in this world. Every night, I remember a fragment of my previous life in the form of a dream. Today, I finally reached the part where I died. I'm not certain how much of it is true or what really happened — nine years of fragments, pieced together loosely. But one thing I am certain of.
I have reincarnated.
Because this world has Immortal Cultivation!
Even if those memories were nothing but imagination, it wouldn't matter. That person is already gone.
I am Feng Han. The one who is alive.
★ — ★ — ★
Some time later.
Feng Han stepped into the courtyard and found a beautiful lady painting inside the pavilion, perched over the stream.
She frowned and smiled in turns with each stroke of her brush. She wore a yellow dress that flattered her graceful figure. Golden pupils shimmered beneath long black hair that cascaded down like a waterfall.
Feng Han ran up to her, beaming.
"Mom!"
Feng Qian had just finished her painting. She turned at the sound of her son's voice and met the brightness on his face with a warm smile of her own. She patted the seat beside her.
"Han'er, come. Look at my painting and tell me honestly how it is."
Feng Han didn't sit right away. He stepped closer and studied the painting first — quietly checking whether it fell within the range where honesty was safe. Confirming that it did, he exhaled internally and settled beside his mother.
"Mom, you have such incredible skill. You should become a painter. You could even auction these off."
"You think so too? Then it's decided!" Feng Qian said with delight.
"What's decided?" Feng Han blinked. He had only been flattering her — what exactly had just been decided?
"To the Jade Lotus Auction!" Feng Qian declared, rising to her feet.
Even as a child, Feng Han's thinking was sharpened by the experiences of his past life. And right now, those experiences were sending a very clear warning.
If the paintings were shown to the public... the newer ones, like the current piece, were still bearable. But the ones stored away in the back room — if anyone laid eyes on those, the results could be catastrophic.
"Shouldn't we keep them here, to decorate the house? Rather than giving them to strangers?" he tried carefully.
"Han'er. What has your mother always taught you? One should not hoard happiness. Happiness is like grass — the more you spread it, the more it grows. So let's share this art with the world." Feng Qian said as she swept Feng Han off his feet and lifted him into the air.
Watching her face, Feng Han knew he was already too late. Her mind was made up. Even her adorable son wouldn't shift it now.
"As you say, Mom."
He surrendered, though he quietly resolved to keep those storeroom paintings buried for as long as possible. The odds were dim, but hope remained.
Just then, a servant came rushing toward them and knelt a respectful distance below the pavilion.
"Madam. The Young Miss has returned. She is requesting to meet you."
Feng Qian glanced at the servant, then nodded.
"Han'er — Mother almost forgot, your elder sister was coming back today. Go on, welcome her." She set him down and turned to dictate a letter to the Jade Lotus Auction House.
Feng Han stood there a moment, watching the servant disappear.
... Disaster is inevitable.
With that quiet resignation, he shelved the thought entirely and broke into an eager run toward the gate.
It had been almost two years since he last saw his elder sister.
He could count their meetings on one hand — and yet every single one had left him genuinely happy.
On top of that, his elder sister was a core disciple of a sect!
Just barely past twenty, and already a core disciple!
He couldn't even begin to imagine what her future held.
With boundless enthusiasm, Feng Han sprinted to the courtyard gate and threw it open.
A crisp, clear voice rang out immediately.
"Han'er. You've grown so much since I last saw you."
"Now you can actually reach the door handles."
A fresh fragrance filled the air as a beautiful face appeared before him. A soft laugh drifted into his ears.
Feng Mei had long golden hair and golden eyes. She wore golden earrings and a long black dress over fair skin. She carried herself with a youthful energy threaded with a quiet maturity — delicate, refined, and unmistakably graceful.
"Elder Sister, you look so beautiful!" Feng Han said with open excitement.
"I know. But don't try your little tricks on me, kid." Feng Mei said without missing a beat.
"I..." Feng Han faltered. She was right. He had indeed been buttering her up — he wanted to enter a sect too.
"Mei'er. Won't you come greet me?" Feng Qian's voice floated over from the courtyard.
"Mom. Of course I came to see you both." Feng Mei said as she stepped through the gate.
Feng Han followed behind.
★ — ★ — ★
At the courtyard pavilion.
"Mei'er. How have you been? You haven't come home in so long. You know, Han'er even said he would go looking for you himself and drag you back." Feng Qian said, her voice thick with feeling.
"I'm doing well, Mom. There's no need to worry. As for Han'er coming to look for me... I doubt he'd make it back." Feng Mei said lightly, glancing at Feng Han who was quietly serving tea.
Feng Han offered no reaction. He had already accepted his fate for the day. His elder sister would tease him from start to finish — resisting only made it worse.
Sensing this, Feng Mei decided to let him off. Teasing was no fun without a response.
"Oh, right — Mei'er! Come, quickly. Take a look at this and tell me your honest opinion." Feng Qian said with a note of pride as she gestured toward her freshly completed painting.
"This..." Feng Mei hesitated, unsure where to begin. Then she noticed Feng Han making a series of frantic hand gestures from behind their mother.
She couldn't read minds, and Feng Han's signals were far from clear. But after years of navigating her peculiar little brother and their mother's particular quirks, it didn't take long to grasp the situation.
She could only sigh quietly for the bidders at the Jade Lotus Auction.
"It's a wonderful piece, Mom. Did you paint this yourself? I can see your signature style in it." Feng Mei said smoothly, steering clear of any fallout.
"Mei'er. You know me — once inspiration strikes, I can't rest until I've put it on paper. Hearing you say that fills me with so much joy. Thank you, truly." Feng Qian said, visibly moved.
Feng Mei and Feng Han exchanged a quick, secret thumbs-up.
And just like that, the reunion of the Feng family passed without incident.
★ — ★ — ★
Sunset.
At the dinner table.
A lavish feast was served hot by the maids. The dining hall was decorated extravagantly — the kind of spread prepared for royalty, yet laid out for only three people.
Just as everything was set, a small figure came trotting in from the far end of the hall, followed by two beautiful ladies in simple dresses.
"Han'er. Don't run — you'll bump into the maids." Feng Qian called out as her son nearly collided with one.
"Careful. The food is hot." Feng Mei said with a small smile.
She already knew he wouldn't listen. He never did — it only made him treat it as a challenge.
Thankfully, no accidents occurred. The three of them took their seats, one at each side of the table, facing each other.
Halfway through dinner, Feng Mei set down her chopsticks and looked at her mother.
"Mom. I have something to ask you."
"Mm?" Feng Qian nodded without looking up, eating with the poised grace of a noble lady.
"I've been thinking — Han'er is already past nine. Isn't it time for him to take the aptitude test?" Feng Mei said carefully.
"..." Feng Qian set down her chopsticks and went still.
"Children his age have already been taken in as disciples, Mom. If we wait much longer, that door will close for him." Feng Mei pressed gently.
It wasn't that Feng Han's flattery had swayed her — it was simply her love for her younger brother that made her speak up.
"Isn't it fine? He can do so much more with his life than joining that violent, arrogant bunch." Feng Qian said, her tone sharp with disdain.
"... Mom..." Feng Mei wanted to continue, but the words wouldn't come. She knew shifting their mother's mind on this would be near impossible.
"Mei'er, it's getting late. I'll retire for the night. Rest well, alright? Don't let it trouble you." Feng Qian rose from her seat and looked briefly at her son. "Han'er — don't worry. Mother only wants what's best for you."
Before leaving the hall, she instructed the servants to distribute what remained of her meal among the maids.
Feng Mei watched in silence and drew a quiet breath before returning to her food.
The person at the center of it all — Feng Han — continued eating without a care. The conversation had not touched him. Not visibly.
Watching him, Feng Mei felt a quiet ache. Her brother had already come to terms with it. He couldn't cultivate... and he had accepted that.
She made a silent decision then. If that door was truly closed to him, she would protect him herself.
★ — ★ — ★
That night was exceptionally calm.
In Feng Han's room.
A soft thud as the door closed. Feng Han dropped onto his bed.
After a full dinner and a full day, he was thoroughly relaxed and nearly asleep on his feet. He didn't linger — he simply fell.
But just before sleep claimed him, one eye cracked open and looked at the translucent panel hovering before him.
[ WELCOME TO IMMORTAL CULTIVATION SYSTEM!
Version: TAI – 23.13
Name: Feng Han
Age: 9
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Status: Normal
Special Status: Heavenly Curse – Unable to Cultivate | Saint's Mark – Unparalleled Cultivator
]
He remembered clearly the first time it had appeared — and how thoroughly baffled he had been.
From what he recalled of his previous life, this seemed to be a "system" — the kind that chose individuals and launched them toward greatness.
But the more he thought about it, the more it all seemed like a cruel joke.
Sure, he had the so-called system. But in nine years, he had found nothing special about himself whatsoever.
And another thing: why did "Unable to Cultivate" and "Unparalleled Cultivator" sit side by side in the same status? Was he some kind of unparalleled cultivator who could ironically not cultivate at all?
Buzz~
His mind overloaded. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep with one final, deeply tired thought:
Maybe... my delusions reincarnated along with me.
★ — ★ — ★
The next day.
Dawn.
Feng Han's room.
He was sprawled across the bed in a way that defied reasonable explanation — limbs at impossible angles, as if attempting yoga in his sleep. Thoroughly, blissfully unbothered.
The cool autumn morning breeze drifted in through the open window, carrying with it the soft chime of wind bells hung at the frame. The curtains swayed gently, as though welcoming the new day.
Then, a soft creak broke the quiet. The door eased open and an elegant figure stepped inside.
She smiled when she saw him — that carefree sprawl — and gently pressed her hand to his forehead.
She leaned close and murmured into his ear, voice laced with playful mischief.
"Han'er. Elder sister is going to the market. If you don't hurry up, I'll take your present back to the sect with me."
Like a switch had been flipped, both eyes snapped open.
Feng Han launched himself off the bed and landed in front of the window. Chin tilted slightly upward. Arms crossed. Expression set with the full weight of nine-year-old authority.
"Who said my present could be taken back?"
The wind blew and his clothes ruffled dramatically — as if offended on his behalf. The pose would have been genuinely imposing...
... if not for the teddy bear printed on his robes.
Feng Mei watched with a composed smile. She had seen this scene play out more than once over the years. Every time, without fail, she felt a small flash of genuine amazement at how swiftly her little brother could move when something truly mattered to him.
She wouldn't point out the teddy bear. That wasn't cruelty — it was care. But it was also one of the many things she quietly adored about her peculiar little brother.
If a child didn't do these ridiculous things, who would? Some stodgy old elder? A scheming courtier?
She put the thought away and turned toward the door.
"Get ready in half an hour. We're leaving."
Her voice was light and melodious as the door swung shut behind her.
★ — ★ — ★
Fifteen minutes later.
The door opened.
Feng Han stepped out in a fresh set of golden-white robes, golden earring catching the light, adorable face practically radiating smugness. He looked exactly like a prince who had just been informed of his own greatness.
His chest was puffed out. His nose was as high as it could go. He spotted his elder sister — leisurely meditating on the corridor couch — and walked toward her with the confident stride of someone who had absolutely, without question, achieved something remarkable.
"Sis. I made it in half the time you gave me. Aren't you proud to be my sister?"
Pure, unfiltered smugness. He looked up at her expectantly, waiting for the praise he was owed.
"I am proud." Feng Mei said, opening her eyes with a smile.
Of myself.
She kept that last part internal. She was long accustomed to her brother treating everything as a competition — probably hoping to quietly earn his way into her sect through accumulated wins. She understood the impulse. She even wanted him there, if she was honest. Having someone she trusted watching her back was worth more than any stranger. It was part of why she had tried to convince their mother. But that had gone nowhere.
She set the thought aside. The longer they lingered, the harder it would be to find the right present before the market filled up.
"If you're ready, let's go. The sun is almost up. Best to get there before the crowds." She rose from the couch and glanced at the faint glow brightening along the eastern horizon.
★ — ★ — ★
At the main gate of Feng Manor.
The heavy gates swung open with a groan of metal. The guards posted on either side — clad in light purple armor — dropped to one knee and bowed.
"Young Miss and Young Master — safe travels."
As their voices faded, a slender, fair leg stepped across the threshold. Then the other, half-hidden beneath a light pink skirt.
An elegant figure in a light pink dress with a flowing slit skirt stepped gracefully out of Feng Manor.
Behind her, a small figure came jogging to catch up. Golden-white robes. Golden earring. The look of a young prince — currently red in the face and slightly out of breath.
"S-Sis... you could at least wait for me... You know I have no cultivation..." Feng Han managed, looking on the verge of genuine betrayal.
"Good. You need the exercise. Look — you've gotten chubbier since I last saw you." Feng Mei said serenely, reaching over to pinch his cheek.
She seemed to enjoy it rather more than was strictly necessary.
"Hmph. Just you wait until I start cultivating." Feng Han grunted and wrenched his face free, stomping ahead without looking back.
If I don't tease you, who will?
Feng Mei smiled quietly and fell into step behind him.
But before she went any further, she glanced back at the guards and told them to rise and return to their posts.
With that settled, she caught up to the fuming little figure marching ahead and walked beside him down the path.