The morning sun spilled over the jagged peak of the mountain in a calm, golden glow. The world looked clean, pure, untouched by violence. The wind brushed softly against the leaves. Birds soared lazily above the treetops, singing their morning songs. The silence gelt both gentle and sacred.
But to Adam, lying motionless at the top of that mountain, the peace was unbearable.
He stared at the sky, cold and hollow inside. This was the fourth time now. The fourth life. The fourth death.
He'd come back again… to the same place.
The same mountain, the same sun, the same gentle breeze.
But inside him, nothing was the same.
He didn't move. He didn't speak. His body lay sprawled on the damp stone, covered in dew and pine needles. But his mind was miles away—in a village reduced to cinders, with faces twisted in pain, fire consuming everything, and screams echoing in his ears.
He could still see them—Old Bai standing firm as the barrier of flames devoured everything; the young woman with silver hair desperately pushing her hand forward to hold the inferno at bay; and all the others… the villagers who had laughed with him, taught him, fed him, smiled at him.
Dead. All of them. Burned alive.
And he had done nothing.
Adam clenched his fists.
"I watched them die…" he whispered hoarsely, voice trembling with guilt. "And I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save any of them. I...I failed their trust, they helped me, welcomed me, provided me with a home and yet I could no nothing but watch them die a horrible death."
For several long minutes, he lay there, letting the sorrow weigh on him, pressing his chest down like a boulder. He saw their faces one by one— Old Bai who welcomed him with open arms when he was lost and hopless. Old Zhang who became his first connection in the village. Zhao yun, the first friend he made who encouraged on his journey to become a martial artist. Mei, the girl who had taught him how to gather herbs; Yan, the quiet old man who always brewed tea at dawn; the cheerful blacksmith who insisted Adam could become a first-grade martial artist in no time if he just persisted. And of course Lin Yao. So many names. So many memories. So much pain.
He bit his lip until it bled.
"I swear…" he whispered again, eyes narrowing as he sat up slowly, staring down at the green sea of treetops below him. "I will never watch people I care about die without doing anything again. Never."
His words echoed on the wind.
He sat cross-legged, letting the breeze cool his face as he tried to suppress the chaos inside him and think clearly. He needed to analyze everything—every detail from his fourth life. He couldn't afford to waste this chance. If this… whatever it was… this cycle, this curse, this rebirth, gave him another shot, he'd use it well.
First, Bai Village.
It had always felt odd—welcoming, but too strong, too unified, too skilled. At first, he had thought it was just a peaceful mountain settlement. But now? Now he realized how strange it truly was.
As far as the books he'd read and the things he'd been taught, the Grandmaster realm was the peak of martial arts in this world. But Bai Village by itself had three grandmasters! That alone was shocking. It had also housed dozens of masters, first-grade, second-grade, and even third-grade martial artists. Practically every adult in the village, aside from the children and elderly, was trained. Some had auras so powerful he couldn't even sense their depths.
Was this normal? No. Not even remotely.
That village wasn't just a hidden gem—it was a fortress.
And then there was Old Bai.
Adam's eyes narrowed as he recalled the old man's final moments. His eyes had turned gold. He'd flown through the sky as if walking on air. He had fought on equal footing with beings who summoned fire with a gesture.
That wasn't martial arts. That was something else.
Old Bai had power that defied everything Adam thought he knew.
And those who attacked…
The young man clad in flames, and the silver-haired girl wielding ice… They weren't martial artists either, not by conventional standards. They moved too fast, their blows shattered reality itself. Their duel had stilled the air. Every cultivator—no, every person below had frozen, afraid to even breathe too loudly. And most importantly, they weren't using dark matter like Old Bai.
They were monsters of a different league.
Then came the four others—the ones who had trapped the girl and burned the village alive. They used strange hand signs, incantations that Adam could not understand, and summoned fire that didn't obey the laws of nature. He had seen enough to know: they weren't just strong. They were beyond human.
Beings like them didn't belong in the world of martial arts he had studied. They were something more.
Something terrifying.
He needed something just as terrifying to have a shot of fighting against those monsters.
Adam pressed his hand to his chest.
It was still there.
The darkness. That same strange substance that leaked out from his body every time he died. That inky, cold, unnatural darkness absorbed every time he killed a living being.
He could feel it now, pulsing faintly beneath his skin. It wasn't just a dream or an illusion.
It's real.
It had followed him back.
This time, he wasn't afraid of it. Not anymore.
Instead, he focused. He tried to sense it more clearly. Unlike energy, which flowed gently through his meridians, this darkness curled and pulsed like a living thing. It responded to his thoughts, albeit weakly. A twitch. A flicker.
This time, he would learn what it was—and how to use it.
He closed his eyes and slowed his breath. For now, he didn't dare attempt anything drastic. But he had time. He would figure it out step by step.
Then he stood up and stared down the mountainside.
He knew where to go.
He wasn't lost anymore. This was the outermost peak of the Hantian Mountains—a place feared by many. A natural barrier. Forbidden to most. But he had lived and died here. He knew its dangers. He knew the paths.
And more importantly, he knew his purpose now.
He would find Bai Village again—not just to relive what happened, but to investigate it. To uncover its secrets. To understand why it was so special. Why it had so many martial artists. Why beings beyond comprehension had come to destroy it.
And this time, he wouldn't be a passive observer.
This time, he would protect them.
Every single one.
But first, he had to grow stronger. Much, much stronger.
Adam took a deep breath. The air smelled of pine and damp soil. The sun had climbed higher now, spreading warmth over the stones. The forest below beckoned.
He stepped forward.
Each footstep felt more certain than the last. The weight of his grief didn't vanish—but it became fuel. A resolve formed in his chest, hard and unyielding.
This life wouldn't be wasted.
And if he had to die again? So be it.
He would die with his fists clenched, fighting to protect those presseace to him.