The village lay in silence beneath the mountain fog.
Rotten fences leaned like drunkards. Cracked clay roofs sagged beneath melted snow. Smoke no longer rose from the hearths.
Only children moved—barefoot, hollow-eyed, chasing shadows rather than dreams.
Lin Xuan walked slowly behind Xiao Yan.
Each step drained him, but he kept going.
His senses were sharp, yet the energy within his body remained dormant. The boy's meridians had long since dried. This vessel—though now his—was closer to death than life.
Still, he observed.
And remembered.
Xiao Yan led him past the ruins of what might once have been a training hall.
Now, it was just a skeleton of wood and ash.
"This used to be where the village head taught us martial forms," she said. "But after he died… it collapsed."
"There's no spirit here anymore."
Her voice was calm. Almost used to it.
As if spirit energy had never belonged here in the first place.
They passed a woman crouched beside a fireless stove, lips moving silently in prayer.
An old man sat on a stool, sharpening a rusted farming blade with a rock.
He didn't look up.
None of them did.
"So this is what remains of those the world discards," Lin Xuan thought.
"Abandoned bloodlines. Failed cultivators. Bastards. Runaways."
"And a little girl… who still believes her brother will wake up one day."
They reached a dried-up well.
Xiao Yan lowered a cracked pot into the darkness.
But no splash came.
She pulled it back up—empty.
"The water's frozen again…"
Lin Xuan looked up at the mountains above.
He felt nothing from them. No spiritual flow. No divine pressure.
Just cold wind. And silence.
"Even the heavens pretend not to see this place."
Suddenly, a stone struck the side of his foot.
He turned.
A boy, no older than seven, glared at him from behind a tree.
"Why are you still alive?" the child hissed."You should've died like your mother."
Another voice joined in.A girl, half-starved, arms crossed tight across her chest.
"You and your sister… you bring nothing but bad luck."
"Go die in the woods, freak!"
Xiao Yan stepped in front of Lin Xuan, arms spread.
"Leave him alone!"
The others laughed.
But they didn't throw more stones. Not today.
They ran.
Lin Xuan remained silent.
He looked down at his own hands. Thin. Pale. Weak.
But they didn't tremble.
"If I were the Lin Xuan of old… I would have erased this village with a glance."
"But power without purpose is just destruction."
"I was born again not to burn… but to rise."
Xiao Yan sniffled beside him. "Don't listen to them…"
He shook his head.
"They're not wrong," he said softly."This body once brought death. But now…"
He lifted his gaze toward the fading sun.
"Now, it will bring reckoning."
Far above, a single ray of light pierced the clouds, striking the cliff face beyond the village.
The stone shimmered—barely visible—but enough for Lin Xuan's eyes to narrow.
A seal.
Old. Ancient.
Something… calling.
He closed his eyes.
And smiled.