Yang Haoxuan had chosen the Longevity Sutra not because it was impressive or famous—but precisely because it wasn't. Unlike most cultivation techniques that stored spiritual energy in the dantian, this one bypassed the dantian entirely, instead using spiritual energy to nourish the body directly. To anyone else, it was a flawed technique. But to Yang Haoxuan, whose dantian had been shattered and restructured by a mysterious system, this could be the perfect fit.
"Let everyone else mock it as trash," he muttered, hugging the ancient manual to his chest, "I'll show them what real trash can become."
He turned to leave the Gongfa Pavilion, eager to get home and test this bizarre sutra. But just as he stepped out into the courtyard, a group of people blocked his path.
The smile faded from his face.
At the head of the group stood a tall, sneering youth in luxurious robes—Yang Ying, the son of his fourth uncle. Yang Haoxuan immediately felt a wave of irritation. No need for introductions. They had never gotten along.
These weren't just any clan members—they were all direct descendants of the Yang family's main branch. Unlike outer branch disciples who feared Yang Haoxuan's notorious temper, these brats always thought themselves righteous, always quick to criticize and scorn him.
But today felt different. The air was thick with unspoken tension.
Yang Ying stepped forward with a mocking smile. "Well, well, Cousin Haoxuan," he drawled. "Heard your dantian's finally fixed, huh? But you're still stuck at the second level of the Martial Path? How pathetic."
Behind him, the others snickered. For years, they had mocked his shattered dantian. Now that he had "recovered," they could jeer at his weak cultivation instead.
Yang Haoxuan narrowed his eyes. With just a glance, he estimated Yang Ying's level—probably sixth layer of the Martial Path. Not unbeatable, but certainly stronger than him right now.
But strength wasn't everything. Especially not when you had a system.
"None of your damn business," he snapped. His voice was sharp, unapologetic.
The main branch disciples were bound by strict family rules—they couldn't raise a hand against him without just cause. So mockery was all they had. And Yang Haoxuan? He'd always given back what he got.
Yang Ying's face twitched, but he kept smiling. "Still as foul-mouthed as ever, I see. But don't get cocky. Next year, you'll be expelled from the family. When that happens... well, I look forward to settling some old scores."
"Who's getting kicked out? You?" Haoxuan scoffed coldly. "Don't count your chickens just yet."
"Hah!" Yang Ying laughed and turned to the others. "You hear that? Does he really think he can catch up in a year? From level two to level six? Beat all of us?"
The entire group burst into laughter.
They were all around seventeen—like him—and it had taken them years of hard work to reach level six. Yang Haoxuan? He'd need a miracle.
"Bastards," Yang Haoxuan clenched his fists, rage boiling inside him. He wasn't some enlightened sage. Being humiliated like this in public—he could feel his pride bleeding out. Still, he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm down.
"Fine," he growled. "One year from now. Let's see who's laughing then."
Yang Ying grinned. "I'll be waiting."
…
As he left the courtyard and walked down the stone path, Yang Haoxuan shook his head, trying to shake off the humiliation. Now he understood what those 'face-slapping moments' in novels truly felt like. He used to laugh at those characters—thought they were overreacting. But now?
Now he got it. This wasn't just cultivation. This was survival. In his past life, people mocked you for being poor. In this life, they mocked your weak cultivation. It was the same thing, just dressed differently.
He clenched his fists. "One year? Fine. Just wait till I level up. Then I'll beat the crap out of you!"
He stormed off, filled with determination, ready to dive into the Longevity Sutra—only to halt midway when two familiar faces appeared ahead.
A man and a woman.
His brows furrowed. Their outlines sharpened as they walked toward him. And then he remembered—the two who left him to die.
The girl was stunning. As she drew near, his breath hitched.
Skin like porcelain snow, delicate features wrapped in ethereal grace, and eyes like moonlit pools that seemed to steal your soul if you stared too long. She wore flowing white robes that shimmered in the light like celestial silk, and when she walked, her long legs seemed to float just above the ground.
"Damn…" Haoxuan blinked, murmuring under his breath, "I used to take liberties with someone this beautiful? What kind of scumbag was I?"
The man beside her was tall and broad-shouldered, handsome in a rugged way—but Yang Haoxuan didn't care enough to analyze him.
They had spotted him too. Their expressions instantly changed—fear, hesitation, guilt.
So you remember me after all. He smirked.
He hadn't reported them when he returned to the Yang family. He thought maybe they had panicked, made a mistake. But now that they stood before him? That old resentment flared again.
He strode forward, eyes locked on them. They froze.
"Look at you two," he said with a chilling smile. "So heartless it's almost impressive."
Their faces paled. Everyone knew the Yang family's rules were strict—especially concerning betrayal. If word got out that they had abandoned a clan member to die...
Yang Peng, the man, stepped forward, jaw tight. "So what if you know? Do whatever you want. I only regret that heaven let a monster like you survive!"
"Peng!" Yang Ruolan—his so-called fiancée—bit her lip and stepped forward. "It... it was my idea. Don't blame him."
Haoxuan blinked, stunned. Wasn't she supposed to apologize? Maybe downplay the incident and let it slide?
Instead, they were acting smug?
His temper exploded.
"You think I'm an idiot?" His voice was sharp as a blade. "Ruolan! You're my fiancée, yet you spend every waking moment with another man. And yesterday, you left me to die for him. You really think I won't tell my father? You know what happens to cheaters in our clan, right? Ever heard of a pig cage?"
The blood drained from their faces.
Everyone in the Yang family knew—Yang Haoxuan was vengeful and calculating. Push him too far, and he'd burn the whole house down.
Yang Peng snarled, "You dare talk? It's your own fault! You did things that—!"
"Shut up!" Ruolan snapped at him, then turned to Haoxuan. "Let's not pretend anymore. You didn't say anything yesterday so you could threaten me today, right? Fine. Do what you want with me. Just let Peng go."
That look in her eyes—pitying, defiant, disgusted.
It made his blood boil.
"You think the world revolves around you, huh?" he growled. "Think being pretty makes you untouchable? Well news flash—I'm not interested in you anymore."
He turned and stormed off.
His words echoed behind him. "I'm not interested in you…" Over and over in Yang Ruolan's ears.
Beside her, Yang Peng said coldly, "Don't worry, Ruolan. He's nothing but a weakling with a broken reputation. When he's kicked out next year, you'll break off the engagement, and we'll be free."
"…Okay," she murmured, dazed.
…
"Goddamn it!" Back in his room, Yang Haoxuan slammed the door shut. "What kind of messed-up people are these?! Not only do they not apologize, they bring up old crap to justify letting me die?"
But thinking back, he remembered what the old Yang Haoxuan had done to that girl. Maybe… he had it coming. Still, that didn't mean he'd forgive them.
He sat down at his desk and opened the Longevity Sutra.
The technique's core concept was simple yet profound—draw spiritual energy from nature and use it to refine the body, merging flesh with qi, until the body became one with the world: incorruptible, eternal, immortal.
Most people had dismissed the sutra as useless. Without channeling energy into the dantian, progress was slow to nonexistent. It was a waste of time for conventional cultivators.
But Yang Haoxuan was different. He had no dantian. And because of that, he had no restrictions.
"Let's see just how trash this 'Longevity Sutra' really is…"
He sat cross-legged on his bed, closed his eyes, and entered a deep meditative state. Spiritual energy in the air began to stir—then rush toward him like moths to a flame.
He wasn't just cultivating—he was devouring qi.
Without a dantian to worry about, there was no bottleneck. No blockage. The energy flowed freely into his body, merging with his muscles, bones, and blood. And it felt… amazing. Like leveling up in a game. A cool rush of power with every breath.
Could it be… this technique was meant for someone like me all along?
Eager to confirm, he opened his system interface.
His eyes widened.
His four core stats—Strength, Agility, Intelligence, and Spirit—were slowly rising. That wasn't supposed to happen. Stats only increased upon leveling up or spending attribute points. But now, they were climbing on their own, in real-time.
Strength and Agility were increasing fast, while Intelligence and Spirit rose slowly. Still—he was gaining experience far faster than he ever had fighting beasts.
This is insane…
Time slipped away unnoticed. Outside, night fell. Moonlight spilled into the room, bathing his still figure in silver light.
Gone was the cocky smirk. What remained was a young man in deep focus, his sharp features etched with purpose. His breathing became slower… deeper… every exhale longer than the last—a sign of rising cultivation.
By the time the rooster crowed the next morning, Yang Haoxuan still hadn't moved.
Then, slowly, he opened his eyes.
They were no longer dull and murky—but clear as crystal.
He checked his personal stats again.
And this time, he smiled.
For the first time since arriving in this world… he felt powerful.