A faint twitch.
Then another.
Qing Chen—now inhabiting Chen Ying's body—felt the numbness retreat from his limbs as warmth slowly crept through his veins. The black, cursed markings that once marred his skin dissolved like ink in water, vanishing into nothingness. His chest burned for a brief moment before a phantom glow erupted—a projection of a lotus, delicate yet ethereal, blooming across his chest before merging seamlessly into his body.
His eyes snapped open.
A sharp breath filled his lungs, and he bolted upright, gripping his head as a wave of dizziness struck him. The unfamiliar weight of his new form settled in. His fingers brushed against the fabric draping his body—thick, ceremonial, burial clothes. The air was damp with incense, the scent of death still clinging to him.
Exhaling, he forced himself to focus. He needed to process his surroundings first.
His gaze drifted across the dimly lit chamber, catching sight of a nearby mirror. He pushed himself off the bedding, his movements slow yet controlled, and approached it. His reflection greeted him with an unfamiliar yet strangely alluring visage—sharp yet refined features, deep-set eyes with a melancholic air, and skin as pale as moonlight. He blinked.
"This is Chen Ying's appearance…" He muttered, reaching out to touch his face, tracing the smooth contours of his cheek. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Quite the beautiful man. Perhaps even more handsome than I was."
But beneath the striking features lay something far more unusual—a body of contradictions. The Yin energy within him swirled unnaturally, clashing against the very nature of his vessel. This body was meant for a woman, yet it housed a man's Yang essence, creating an imbalance that had likely cursed Chen Ying's health since birth.
A deep sigh left him. "Born under an unlucky star… No wonder this body suffered so much."
Shaking his head, he turned away from the mirror and stretched out his hand. A swirl of energy flickered weakly at his fingertips before quickly dissipating. His spiritual power was faint—unstable. He wouldn't be able to use any of his abilities for now.
"I need that pill immediately… I must rebuild my cultivation before this fragile body collapses."
With a wave of his hand, an array of books materialized before him—his old records, techniques, and treasures he had carried in his soul's essence before death. He swiftly sifted through them, separating what was useful, before dismissing the rest with another flick of his fingers. His energy was running low, and he needed to conserve what little he had left.
His gaze wandered toward a nearby drawer. He strode over, pulled it open, and carefully placed the cultivation records inside. As he closed it, his attention was drawn to the corner of the chamber where several paintings rested against the wall.
Chen Ying loved paintings.
A flicker of nostalgia surfaced.
"…He reminds me of Ling'er." His heart clenched at the thought of his past. "Speaking of Ling'er… I need to find her."
Steeling himself, he approached the table, where an unfinished painting remained—an elegant landscape, left incomplete by a hand that would never return. He reached for the brush, intending to complete it out of respect.
Then—
The doors burst open.
A servant entered, only to freeze in place as her eyes landed on him. Her face paled, her lips parted in a silent scream. The color drained from her features as she stumbled backward, nearly tripping over herself.
"A-AHHHHHH!"
Her piercing shriek shattered the silence, sending ripples of panic through the household.
Footsteps thundered through the halls. Voices rose in alarm.
The entire Chen residence was about to descend into chaos.
And Qing Chen—no, Chen Ying—sighed, rubbing his temples.
"…Well, that's one way to announce my resurrection."
Under the cold embrace of the moonlight, Yan Mei stood in solemn silence, her mourning Hanfu billowing gently in the night breeze. Her delicate fingers clutched a jade pendant—Chen Ying's parting gift. A lone tear traced her pale cheek before dropping onto the pendant. The moment the tear touched the jade, a sudden frost spread across it, encasing half of the pendant in ice. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, unmoving, as if the world itself had paused in grief with her.
The night's silence was shattered by a distant explosion, followed by hurried footsteps and frantic voices. Yan Mei's sharp eyes flickered as she turned toward the approaching servant, who nearly stumbled in her rush.
"My Lady… My Lady…!" The servant's breath hitched, fear stark in her widened eyes.
Yan Mei narrowed her gaze. "What's going on?" Her voice, usually calm, carried a rare urgency as she stepped forward.
The servant hesitated, then blurted out the impossible. "My Lady, it's Chen Ying… He's alive!"
Yan Mei's world tilted. Her breath hitched, her pupils contracting in disbelief. The weight of those words struck her like a thunderbolt, and her knees buckled, hitting the cold wooden floor.
"Impossible… But how?!" Her mind raced, yet there was no time for hesitation. With a sharp inhale, she forced herself to stand, the fabric of her Hanfu swirling around her as she turned on her heel. "Take me to him. Now!"
---
Chen Family Hall
Lanterns cast flickering shadows along the grand hall as elders whispered among themselves, the heavy atmosphere thick with uncertainty. Chen Ying lay on a silk-covered bed, his pulse being examined by a physician. The physician's brows furrowed in deep concentration before his eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He abruptly stepped back, lowering his head, his fingers twitching with unease.
"Patriarch… Chen elders… He's alive and well. Heaven has favored you." The physician's voice wavered. "He needs rest, but his meridians… they are completely restored."
A murmur spread through the room like wildfire. Chen Ying, now sitting upright, surveyed the room with sharp eyes. His expression remained impassive, but deep within, a storm brewed. He noted two conspicuous absences—Chen Xin and Chen Jin—as well as the one person who should have arrived first.
"Yan Mei isn't here…" His lips pressed into a thin line as memories surfaced. Before his original self's death, he had scolded her for preventing him from drinking wine. "What a troublesome child… Now I have two problems to deal with." He shook his head, exhaling in frustration.
The Patriarch's voice sliced through the murmurs. "What of the Jade Yin Lotus Constitution? He was unable to cultivate before. What should be done now?"
The physician hesitated, his hands trembling. Noticing this, the Patriarch's gaze darkened. "Speak."
The physician suddenly fell to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the ground. His voice trembled as he uttered, "Patriarch! The Jade Yin Lotus Constitution… it can cultivate! His meridians are no longer bound by Yin energy. It's transformed… into a Celestial Lotus Jade Constitution. His body is overflowing with spiritual energy!"
Silence gripped the hall before a collective gasp erupted. Elders exchanged bewildered glances, their murmurs gaining volume.
"What?! How is that possible? A transition from Yin to Celestial? That has never been recorded in history!"
"Didn't he die from the venom of the Beaded Centipede—a creature unseen for five hundred years?"
Chen Ying's sharp eyes flickered with understanding. "Beaded Centipede… the Soul Parasite Centipede from five hundred years ago?" His fingers tapped against his knee as his thoughts aligned. "Whoever poisoned Chen Ying knew exactly what they were doing. That centipede doesn't just kill—it invades, leeches lifespan, and destroys cultivation. They ensured he could never recover."
His gaze flicked to the elders, noting the way some of them avoided his piercing stare.
A seasoned physician finally spoke. "From my years of study, I can confirm—his constitution has transformed. The Yin energy that once bound him has vanished."
The room buzzed with theories and disbelief. Chen Ying, deep in thought, recalled something crucial.
"The Soul Refining Pill… It must have purged the Yin energy, but not completely. Instead, it altered his very foundation, creating a dual constitution." He studied the physician carefully. "This man… he's no ordinary doctor."
The hall fell deathly silent as a commanding voice rang out.
"Celestial Jade Lotus Constitution?!"
Yan Mei's voice echoed like a bell of fate. She burst into the hall, her breath labored, her eyes darting frantically.
Chen Ying barely had time to react before she closed the distance between them, her hands flying to his shoulders, gripping him firmly. Her fingers, cold from the night air, brushed against his skin as she tilted his head, scanning him like a ghost returned from the dead.
"No black veins… No signs of poisoning…" she whispered, her hands hovering just above his skin before pressing against his chest, feeling for any irregularities.
Her movements were frantic yet precise, her brows knitted in confusion and desperation. She circled him, tugging at his sleeves, pressing her fingers along his pulse points, her disbelief manifesting in her restless examination.
Chen Ying watched her with an unreadable expression, a flicker of amusement surfacing beneath his calm exterior.
Yan Mei stilled, her fingers tightening. "How did you survive?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
Qing Chen's mind stirred as he analyzed his new identity. "This must be Yan Mei... the core disciple of the Ice Palace and Chen Ying's... Ahem, I mean my wife... What a difficult life... At least I still have Ling'er..." he mused, his expression unreadable.
As Yan Mei reached out to touch his forehead, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. Without a word, he turned away, straightened his posture, and placed his hands together in a respectful bow. Then, without another glance, he strode past her, his robes billowing slightly with each measured step. Yan Mei stood frozen, her lips parting slightly, yet she said nothing, only watching his retreating figure.
"Ying'er, stop."
The Patriarch's commanding voice cut through the murmurs of the hall. Chen Ying halted mid-step, turning slowly to face him. The Patriarch approached, his sharp gaze locked onto the young man as he firmly grasped Chen Ying's wrist. He was checking his pulse. A flicker of shock passed through the elder's eyes, but he quickly masked it behind a stoic expression. However, Qing Chen, now inhabiting Chen Ying's body, caught the subtle change. He said nothing, merely observing.
"Ying'er, how did you survive the Soul Parasite Centipede?" The Patriarch's voice was calm but laced with curiosity.
Chen Ying remained silent, his gaze drifting away as if the question were beneath him.
The Patriarch studied him for a moment before sighing. "Everyone has their secrets. If you choose not to share yours, that is understandable." He released Chen Ying's wrist and turned away, his long robes flowing as he walked.
He stopped abruptly. "Search for the best sect and the finest educational resources for Ying'er. Anyone who disobeys this order will be punished severely. And find the person responsible for poisoning him!" His voice was like thunder, sending a chill through the hall. The guards immediately acknowledged his command in unison.
"Take Ying'er to rest," the Patriarch added, his voice softer but still firm.
The guards stepped forward, surrounding Chen Ying as they led him toward his chambers. Yan Mei, standing still, bowed her head in respect to the Patriarch before instinctively following them. However, just as she was about to continue, the Patriarch's voice halted her.
"Yan Mei… let him rest. He is exhausted."
Yan Mei clenched her fingers slightly before nodding. "Yes, Patriarch," she responded, her voice calm yet tinged with reluctance. She turned away, her steps slow, as the echoes of hushed whispers about Chen Ying's newfound ability to cultivate filled the air once more.