In the bright, crisp morning light of Spring, Lin Xia stirred awake in a bed that felt far too soft. Silk sheets, warm sunlight, a faint scent of jasmine in the air—it should have been a perfect beginning to another ordinary day. And for a moment, it was.
He lay there listening to the hum of life beyond the window: birds chirping, bicycles rattling past, the neighbor's dog yapping like always. A quiet, pleasant life. No swords. No shouting. No cold-eyed masters whose approval felt like poisoned sugar.
Lin Xia's apartment was sleek, minimal. A single calligraphy scroll adorned the wall: 清心寡欲 – Keep a quiet heart, desire little. His foster parents had gifted it to him when he'd started university. He hadn't had the heart to take it down, even after they died last year.
He rose slowly, feeling the stretch of stiff joints and the dull ache that always lingered behind his temples. Last night's dream had been vivid—too vivid. He'd seen a bloodstained snowfield. A boy kneeling. A voice—his own, cruel and amused: "Do you still think someone like you can survive without me?"
He rubbed his face hard, trying to shake the remnants of that dream. Maybe it was the late-night binge of cultivation webnovels. Or maybe it was just stress. He was twenty-five, a top-tier medical student with a bright future and not a single human being who knew him beyond the mask.
He didn't miss the past. Not really. But sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still feel a sword in his hand.
After showering, he made coffee and sat down at his desk. His laptop still had the browser open to the novel he'd fallen asleep reading: "Blood Hand Asura's Rise." A dumb title. He'd clicked it out of boredom.
And now… now, the screen stared back at him with a chapter that shouldn't exist.
> [Author Note: Bonus POV – Frost Moon Sect's Scum Villain: Shen Jiu]
"I never meant to break him. I only wanted someone who looked at me the way I looked at Master."
Lin Xia stared.
No cultivation webnovel he'd ever read used his past life's name. Not as a side character. Not like this.
He clicked back. The descriptions were painfully familiar: Frost Moon Sect's gleaming mountain halls, the silver-robed disciples, the "timid and forgettable Luo Wen," and of course—"Senior Brother Shen Jiu, praised for his talent, feared for his cruelty."
His heart slowed.
He scrolled faster. A scene where Shen Jiu sneered, tipping a vial of Beast Blood over a junior disciple's bedding. Another where Luo Wen trembled in front of him, clutching the gift Shen Jiu had mockingly given—a broken sword shard, 'to reflect your talent.'
He remembered none of this. But he knew, with a clarity deeper than instinct, that it was all true.
Because he remembered the end. Being dragged from the Frost Moon Sect's sanctuary, his hands crushed, his golden core shattered. Luo Wen had stood before him then—not trembling, not weak. Just… quiet. Serene. Beautiful, in the way blood blooming on snow is beautiful.
"You taught me that love is a lie," Luo Wen had said.
Then he'd flayed him alive.
Lin Xia's stomach turned. He clutched the sides of the desk and forced his breathing to steady. It had to be a coincidence. There were thousands of cultivation stories. Some writer just got lucky guessing—
> [Chapter 297: Epilogue – The Scum Villain Dies Screaming]
"His last thoughts were not regret, but confusion. Why had the disciple he'd raised turned into such a monster?"
The last update had been uploaded at 3:00 a.m.
Today.
And the author… there was no name.
Only a string of numbers: 10053.
His birthday.
Lin Xia closed the laptop. Hard. His hands trembled. He rose and began pacing the apartment, trying not to think. But the thoughts came anyway.
Was this karma? A warning? Some unfinished business dragging at his soul?
He'd never believed in second chances. But if he had been Shen Jiu—if this wasn't just delusion—then maybe… maybe the universe was telling him something.
"I was a monster," he whispered aloud.
And the worst part? He hadn't even realized it.
He thought of the scared eyes in the text, Luo Wen's constant apologies, the way he'd followed Shen Jiu like a shadow. How Shen Jiu had taken that devotion and crushed it under his heel. And then acted surprised when the boy turned into a demon.
It made sense now. All of it.
He could remember the fear in Luo Wen's eyes… and worse, how he'd felt powerful because of it.
Lin Xia sat down heavily, pressing a hand to his chest.
How do you fix a life like that?
How do you make peace with the version of yourself who groomed someone into loving him, only to throw them away?
He couldn't.
But maybe, if he could go back… maybe he could undo it. Change something. Warn him. Teach him. Apologize.
He had no right to ask for forgiveness. But he wanted to give it.
He never heard the car tires screeching. Never saw the light. He only remembered standing to get water—and then the world burst into white.
---
In that moment between heartbeat and nothingness, time unraveled.
He fell.
Through snow and blood and silver halls and burnt paper and crying boys and echoing voices that screamed "Shixiong!"
And then—
He opened his eyes.
---
He was cold.
He lay in a stone bed. The ceiling was cracked wood. The walls were paper-thin. The air smelled of incense and spirit ash.
His body felt light. Younger. Weaker.
He sat up slowly, staring down at his hands.
Small. Pale. Familiar.
A knock at the paper door.
"Senior Brother Shen Jiu?" A timid voice. "You said to report when the punishment hall was ready."
Lin Xia—no. Shen Jiu—felt his breath leave him.
He stood.
Walked to the window.
Outside, white blossoms fell like snow.
And in the courtyard below stood Luo Wen, barely fifteen, cradling a bundle of robes far too big for him. Eyes wide. Face pale.
Just as he remembered.
And for the first time in both his lives, Shen Jiu was afraid.
---