Within a quiet forest lay a small, ordinary village. Flowers bloomed, birds sang, and dogs barked from time to time—not to disturb the peace, but as though gently waking someone from a dream.
Though the village housed few people, they lived with mutual respect and harmony. Life here was simple and at times difficult, yet smiles adorned every face, and the fertile fields yielded steady crops.
In one corner of the village stood a modest house with a small courtyard. Humble though it was, anyone who looked upon it would feel its warmth and comfort. By the gate grew a few stalks of golden hairtail grass, swaying gently in the spring breeze.
Within the yard lay a neat pile of firewood. Beside it stood several wooden chairs and a low table, upon which rested a teapot and a few porcelain cups.
At this moment, a little girl of six sat on one of the chairs, swinging her legs as she sipped tea. Her innocent smile carried the carefree joy of childhood.
"Xiaoyu, have you finished the embroidery task your mother gave you?"
A gentle voice spoke. A middle-aged man entered the courtyard, a bundle of firewood on his back. His eyes softened as they fell on the girl, and he greeted her with a smile.
Startled by her father's sudden question, the little girl shifted her gaze and stammered, "Father, I… I already finished it. I was just taking a break. I'll show Mother later."
Noticing her guilty look, the corner of the middle-aged man's eyes curved into a smile. "Is that so? Then I'll just call your mother over to check. I'm sure she would love to see her daughter's embroidery and hear her thoughts."
"Ah—Father, please don't!" The girl panicked, shaking her head anxiously. "I haven't finished yet, so please don't call Mother!"
The man put on a stern look, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed his act. "Lass, to think you would lie to your father. Best finish it quickly, or else… your mother is already on her way."
"I understand…" The girl pouted, lips curling into a reluctant line, before finally picking up her work again. Under her breath, she muttered complaints about how dull her mother's embroidery task was.
She lifted the silver needle from the table and pressed it into the fabric. But as soon as she did, her small hand froze. For a moment, she couldn't even recall what pattern she was supposed to be stitching.
"I heard from Aunt Yin that you're still planning to head into the forest tomorrow? Haven't we gathered enough firewood to last through winter?"
Just as she sat in thought, a gentle female voice drifted from ahead, startling her into stillness once more.
The middle-aged man nodded and turned toward the entrance, where a woman carrying a basket of fresh vegetables stepped into the courtyard. He quickly walked over, took the basket from her hands, and spoke with a calm smile, his voice carrying reassurance.
"The firewood is enough, but the meat isn't. Rest assured, I won't go alone—I'll be going with the other group. It's not just our family facing this problem; most of the village is. That's why the men are heading deeper into the forest to hunt."
The woman opened her mouth, wanting to object, but in the end, she only sighed softly and shook her head in silence. Walking over to her daughter, she looked down at the embroidery in her hands.
When she noticed that not a single new stitch had been added since she left, her brows furrowed. She reached out and tugged her daughter's ear, scolding her with sharp words. The little girl yelped in pain and quickly begged her father to help her.
And so, the days passed in this simple, peaceful rhythm. The father continued to return with his hunts, and before long, winter arrived. As always, the villagers busied themselves indoors, huddling close to the warmth of their hearths.
But in the heart of that winter, something happened that shattered the peace.
Without warning, several figures plummeted from the sky, crashing into the center of the village. Startled cries rang out as men rushed from their homes, staring in alarm at the scene before them.
Xiu!
Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, sharp gales swept across the village. More figures descended from above, their silhouettes standing proudly in midair, suspended in the sky.
The figures who had crashed into the village were bloodied and barely able to stand. Yet the hatred in their eyes burned so fiercely that their glare alone was enough to chill the heart.
High above, their enemies only responded with disdainful laughter. One man swung his sleeve, and countless swords manifested, filling the heavens with a chilling sharpness. The sky above the small village was drowned in blades.
With a flick of his finger, the rain of swords descended. In that instant, a barrier flared into existence, spreading to shield the village. It was formed by the very people who had fallen here, but it was clear their strength was waning—the barrier quivered and cracked under the onslaught.
The little girl's parents understood at once. These people intended to slaughter not only their enemies but the entire village.
With heavy hearts and resolute eyes, the mother and father carried their daughter into the basement, where food and water had been stored. Placing her inside, they shut the heavy door. The girl cried and pleaded desperately, pounding against it, but her parents only sat before the entrance, unmoving.
Moments later, the barrier shattered. A merciless storm of blades swept down, cutting apart the bloodied figures who had brought this calamity, and the innocent villagers were not spared.
The girl's parents remained seated before the basement door, their bodies pierced through, blood splattering across the ground. Yet even in death, their figures did not topple, and the faint smiles on their faces did not fade—as if their very lives had become a shield to protect their daughter from the cruel rain of swords.
After several moments, the storm of blades finally ceased. With a disdainful laugh, the figures in the sky turned away, vanishing back to where they came from.
Weeks slipped by in silence. At last, the little girl pushed open the basement door and rushed outside.
What greeted her eyes made her heart collapse—her father and mother's corpses, riddled with swords from head to toe.
"Father! Mother! Why… why!"
She threw herself onto their bodies, hugging them tightly. She wept until no more tears would fall, screamed until no sound could escape her throat. She remained there, trembling in grief, refusing to let go.
Then, suddenly, a strange suction force appeared, pulling her away.
As her body was dragged back, her gaze fell upon the embroidery she had once worked on. There was no pattern upon it—only a tangle of colored threads, the random work of a child at play.
Before her eyes, the threads loosened and unraveled, leaving behind a blank sheet.
When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined village. She had returned—to that moment when she sat before the table, reluctant to complete the embroidery her mother had given her.
"So, this is how it is…" the little girl murmured, clarity flickering within her eyes as her memories returned.
Her gaze swept across the familiar house as she whispered in deep thought, "Each time the threads unravel, it marks another cycle of life. And the cycles are countless. In every life, they leave me in the same way—the same way they left me before this…"
This was her obsession—the knot bound within her heart. The embroidery itself was nothing but a mirror of her heart, and the tangled, aimless patterns she stitched were the reflection of that knot.
It was not hatred, nor was it a grudge against those who slew her parents. What weighed upon her was sorrow and regret—the regret of not cherishing the time she had with her father and mother.
"If I count them… this is the fifty-fourth time. Very well… let me unravel this knot."
…
Xiao Hua, Li Mei, Ming Cheng, Xin Yu, Mei Ling, and Wei Jie watched the little girl with satisfied smiles. Their expressions revealed clear approval. Naturally, this little girl was none other than the black-haired young lady who had drawn their attention.
Though she had endured fifty-four cycles of rewinds, only half an hour had passed outside since she first entered the second trial.
"This little girl is remarkable! Spearmanship, flame and lightning affinities within her Dou Qi. Though it is a pity she cannot tread the path of alchemy, she is still an excellent disciple for you, Hua'er!" Mei Ling exclaimed with genuine admiration.
Everyone nodded in agreement. They all knew this trial served another purpose—an opportunity for Xiao Hua to choose a disciple. Though they had half-forced him into it, none expected such a good seedling to emerge.
Xiao Hua gave no direct reply, but even he could not help but nod lightly. Clearly, she had met his standards.
That single acknowledgment sent another wave of shock rippling through the onlookers. Faces darkened with envy, for they knew all too well what it meant. Xiao Hua was counted among the three most powerful experts in the world—perhaps even the foremost, for he had already defeated one of them. To be chosen as his disciple… was an opportunity that defied the heavens themselves.
Unbothered by the murmurs around him, Xiao Hua's eyes narrowed as he stared at the young girl, deep in thought.
"Her physical body has already experienced a nirvana. Now, she undergoes reincarnation. Once she leaves this place, she will be completely transformed." Xiao Hua murmured softly, a faint smile curving his lips.
"Reincarnation?" Wei Jie raised his brows, confusion flashing in his eyes. He turned to Xiao Hua and asked, "How can she undergo reincarnation while still alive?"
Naturally, everyone present—including the Ancestor of the Pill Tower—had heard Xiao Hua's words. The same question stirred in all their hearts.
Why was he speaking in such a manner?
"The so-called reincarnation is merely a brief experience—it does not always demand the full cycle of life and death, nor the opening of a second world." Xiao Hua's tone was calm, his gaze steady, as though stating a truth that lay beyond mortal comprehension.
As one who had endured countless cycles beneath the Bodhisattva Ancient Tree, and as one who had even reincarnated from another reality into this world of novels, Xiao Hua's understanding of reincarnation ran deeper than anyone present.
Xin Yu's eyes shifted toward the little girl. She asked softly, "Is that so? She has only walked through a span of time within a spiritual realm. Can such a fleeting experience truly be called reincarnation?"
"Reincarnation does not heed the length of time," Xiao Hua replied, his voice even. "There are cycles that span thousands of eras… and there are rebirths that bloom in but a single instant."
Silence fell. No one dared to breathe too loudly, afraid to miss even a single word exchanged.
"A flash of realization—this too is reincarnation." Xiao Hua's voice was quiet, unshaken, as though he were simply pointing out the way the heavens had always turned.
Xiao Hua's gaze never wavered from the young lady. His words flowed with calm precision, yet each syllable resounded like a Dao edict.
"She has lived through fifty-four lives of sorrow, each one unraveling the knot bound within her heart. That torment carved away the dust of hesitation and polished her soul into clarity. Such a trial is harsher than death itself."
"For death is an end. But this… this is rebirth while shouldering every memory of suffering. To endure it without breaking—her will is no longer that of a mere mortal. It is a will that dares to defy the heavens."
The crowd fell into silence. Even the Ancestor of the Pill Tower's eyes flickered with solemn light. What they had dismissed as an illusion revealed itself to be a tribulation that tempered Dao heart and spirit alike.
Xiao Hua's expression remained restrained, though a faint glimmer of approval flashed within his eyes.
According to his words, reincarnation need not mean life and death in full. To deviate from one's original course of life and set foot upon another path—this, too, was reincarnation.
A flash of realization, a change in destiny, a nirvana that transforms one's essence—these were also reincarnation.
Li Mei's eyes narrowed as she added thoughtfully, "There are those who vanish into ancient ruins, experiencing strange things before returning. Could that not also be counted as a form of reincarnation?"
"Indeed," Xiao Hua replied calmly. "Even a brief detour, even a period of being lost, is still reincarnation. A week in isolation, where a single instant feels like a thousand years—this too is reincarnation."
Everyone was stupefied. Xiao Hua's words struck something familiar within them. Many had experienced long closed-door seclusions. Sitting in silence, letting the mind wander, sometimes losing all sense of self—was that not also a kind of reincarnation?
When cultivating, one could encounter the seven emotions, the six desires, countless visions of life, the movements of nature, even the allure of power and Dao itself. Were these simply the heart's illusions… or the soul leaving the body, walking through reincarnation?
The thought left them shaken, their minds blank as though turned to stone.
For ordinary people, such wandering thoughts would be dismissed as dreams. But for cultivators like them—who endured centuries in seclusion, their spirits roaming heaven and earth—what they saw in that state could not be dismissed so easily.
Could this too be reincarnation?
One by one, their gazes turned toward Xiao Hua. The young man sat quietly, his face calm and handsome, his heterochromia eyes—crimson on the left, cyan on the right—shimmering with a profound light. He seemed aloof, yet when he spoke, his words carried the weight of ages, forcing those older than him to fall into deep thought.
Despite his youth, his insights were so vast and ancient that they began to wonder—was this truly a young man, or an old monster hidden in disguise?
Finally, Ming Cheng broke the silence. His voice was steady, but beneath it lingered uncertainty.
"Xiao Hua… is there truly such a thing as life-and-death reincarnation in this world? I do not mean sudden enlightenment, nor revival after a near-death. I mean… the so-called rebirth of a previous life."
Xiao Hua's gaze swept across the crowd, his expression calm yet unyielding. His voice carried no hesitation, every word striking like iron against stone.
"Life and death reincarnation exists."
"The cycle does not ask for belief, nor does it wait for comprehension. Whether mortal or cultivator, all who walk under heaven are bound by it. The only difference lies in awareness. Most live and die without ever knowing they have stepped upon the wheel. A few, through chance or fate, awaken to fragments of their former lives. And fewer still can seize it, shatter it, and walk free."
If not, how could his existence—or Xiao Yan's—be explained? Both had died, yet returned, not through simple transmigration, but by stepping into different worlds, times, and faith.
His crimson and cyan eyes gleamed with unfathomable depth, like twin worlds revolving.
"Do not mistake fleeting illusions for true reincarnation. Seclusion, visions, inheritances—these are but shadows cast along the path of cultivation. Beyond those shadows lies the eternal cycle, a law that neither gods nor devils can erase. That is reincarnation."
His words fell, and silence pressed upon the hall like a mountain. Even the old demons felt their hearts tremble, for his tone left no room for doubt—only submission before an unshakable truth.
Xiao Hua's gaze shifted toward the Pill Tower's group. There he spotted familiar faces—Xuan Kong Zi, Cao Ying, and others he had only heard of: the graceful Xuan Yi and the fierce Tian Lei Zi, both standing at the same rank as Xuan Kong Zi.
Since they were allies, Xiao Hua chose to speak once more, this time drawing upon alchemy.
Xiao Hua's voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of an undeniable truth.
"A Tier 8 medicinal pill already holds spirituality. It breathes, it senses—it carries a life force of its own. From that moment, it is no longer merely medicine, but a living existence. When it advances to Tier 9, its spirit can even take form, imitating other beings. Given enough time, it may gather flesh and walk this world like any creature."
His gaze deepened, sweeping over the stunned crowd.
"Why is there a tribulation at that stage? Because the birth of new life defies the heavens. The pill, once dead matter, becomes a living being. That is nothing less than reincarnation."
He paused briefly, his heterochromatic eyes glinting like twin flames of truth.
"Alchemy is the forging of life. Reincarnation is the same. A soul steps beyond its original path, sheds its old vessel, and takes on a new one. Whether it be pill or person, the essence is no different. From death, or from transformation, life is reborn—and tribulation will always follow."
The city fell utterly silent. For the Pill Tower's group, and especially their ancestor, these words pierced deeper than any sermon.
Bang!
Suddenly, many felt something within them burst open. One after another, they sat cross-legged, entering deep cultivation. Bottlenecks loosened, comprehension broadened, and especially the alchemists—whose alchemy had been struck at its core—fell into profound meditation, absorbing every fragment of Xiao Hua's revelation.
His gaze shifted to the other side, falling upon his sworn brothers and sisters. To his surprise, they too had entered deep meditation. A moment later, their eyes opened, and the aura around them surged—they had all experienced breakthroughs.
Though they might not walk the same path as Xiao Hua, this exchange had granted them enlightenment of their own. Their eyes softened as they looked at him, faint laughter escaping their lips in quiet joy.
Not long after, the others in the city also emerged from meditation. Their cultivation had clearly advanced, strength rising like waves within their bodies. Joy and excitement flickered in their eyes as they stood, cupped their hands, and bowed slightly toward Xiao Hua.
Their gratitude was sincere. He had not intended to guide them, yet his words had pushed them forward. This was especially true for the Pill Tower's group—their alchemy Dao had deepened tremendously, far beyond what they had ever expected.
Exchanging brief glances with Flame and Thunder, Xiao Hua's gaze finally returned to the little girl, who was still immersed in her own reincarnation. Though her path differed from theirs, he could see she was nearing completion. A faint smile curled on his lips.
…
While everyone was still shaken by their own gains, the little girl finally stepped out from the house. It was the first time she had walked beyond the courtyard.
On her first step, she was still a child. On her second, she became a teenager. On her third, she transformed into a young woman.
Her long black hair drifted despite the still air, and a black-red robe adorned her slender figure as she walked forward, step by step, out of the village. Behind her trailed countless embroidered quilts, each one a fragment of the life she had lived within.
From the humble village, to the smiling faces of its people, to the old couple holding the little girl—all of it was woven together into a completed tapestry.
"Without at least a hundred cycles, how can one seek progress on the cultivation path? Without a thousand years, how could one grasp the insights of heaven and earth? This heart trial… is truly remarkable."
The young woman's black eyes shone with quiet peace. The trial had wrought a mysterious change within her, one she concealed so well that even those watching closely would find it hard to discern.
Her eyes lifted toward the sky, now clearer than ever before.
In her heart, she wondered how someone as young as Xiao Hua could possess such profound comprehension. Was he not only a few years younger than herself?
Yet instead of doubt and discouragement, the thought only ignited a burning desire—an unshakable longing to become his disciple.
After leaving the village, she turned back. Cupping her hands, she bowed deeply toward the village that had nurtured her, gratitude shining in her gaze. In response, tens of thousands of rays of light gathered, weaving together into an oval-shaped ring before her.
Her lips curved into a smile. That devastatingly beautiful face now carried both allure and unshakable determination. If the first two trials had already been so extraordinary, how much more exhilarating would the next be?
Without a trace of hesitation or fear, she stepped into the radiant oval ring, her faint smile lingering as she vanished within.
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