"I died like an idiot, huh?"
Jin Mu opened his eyes to a blinding sun and a splitting headache.
The words echoed in his skull—shards of a memory that didn't belong in this world. Tires screeching. A horn blaring. The crunch of metal. Then… nothing but a cold, crushing silence.
Now, he found himself sprawled on rough stone, his limbs aching, his breath shallow. A thin, worn robe clung to a frail body—too light, too brittle, too unfamiliar. He blinked against the light and slowly sat up, groaning.
Tall pine trees towered above him, their needles whispering in the wind. Mist drifted along a mountain path, curling between ancient stones like lazy serpents. Far above, nestled in jagged cliffs, buildings rose—wooden halls with sweeping tiled roofs that jutted out like teeth from the mountainside.
He wasn't on Earth anymore.
Beside him lay a scroll. Faded silk. Golden ties.
With trembling fingers, he reached for it and unrolled the contents.
Welcome to Emerald Cloud Peak, Jin Mu.Age: 18
Status: Failed Successor Candidate, Heir of Former Peak Lord
Sect Rank: Outer Disciple (Probation)
Evaluation:Worthless.
He stared blankly at the words. His lips parted.
"What the hell…?"
And then it came—like a dam breaking. A tide of memories flooded his mind, overwhelming and chaotic. Sword forms. Disdainful glances. Painful silences. His "father," a once-revered Peak Lord, had died three years ago under suspicious circumstances. With him went any shred of respect or protection. His son had been left behind—a failure, a disgrace, a name cursed under hushed breaths.
He clutched his head, breathing hard.
And then—A voice.
[Initializing... "Sovereign Guidance System "...]
[Linking Host Soul... Complete.]
[Welcome, Jin Mu. Your journey begins now.]
Jin Mu froze.
"A… system?" he whispered. "I actually transmigrated into a xianxia world?"
[Main Objective: Cultivate the strongest generation of disciples.]
[Your strength will grow as your students ascend.]
[Choose your first disciple wisely.]
[Initial Skill Unlocked – "Thousand Meridian Insight":See through the potential, talents, and flaws of others at a glance.]
His breath caught in his throat.
A teacher?
Back on Earth, he'd been scraping by, tutoring spoiled kids for pennies, mocked for wasting his degree. Now this world expected him to teach monsters? Ascendants? Future gods?
He chuckled. Then laughed outright.
"Me? The trash of Emerald Cloud Peak?" he muttered. "Sure. Why not."
He rose slowly, every joint popping like brittle wood, and brushed dust off his robe. A wind swept through the trees, tugging at the tattered hem of his sleeves. In the distance, a bell tolled—long and solemn.
He turned toward it.
"If they think I'm worthless…" His eyes sharpened. "Then I'll let them think it."
A cruel smile touched his lips.
"I'll raise demons in the skin of saints. And when they kneel, they'll wonder how the fool did it."
Outer Disciple Trial Grounds – Sect Gate
The courtyard below the mountain bustled with hopefuls. New applicants, all desperate to earn a place in the sect, gathered beneath stone pillars etched with sacred patterns. Instructors walked among them, testing talents, recording results, and tossing failures aside like broken tools.
Li Yiran stood near the gate—clothes torn, feet muddy from the climb.
She said nothing. Her expression was still, unreadable. Yet in her bright green eyes, a quiet fury simmered beneath the surface like magma beneath ice.
A bald examiner, robes lined with authority, laughed as he held her evaluation stone to the light.
"No root affinity? Hah!" he barked. "You call this girl a cultivator?"
His voice carried. Snickers spread like wildfire. Some turned to whispers. Others didn't bother to hide their scorn.
"Look at that pretty face though. Maybe she should try marrying into the sect instead."
"Or become someone's bed-warmer. Trash might still have uses."
Yiran didn't react. Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white, but she didn't lift her head. She'd heard worse.
Then—
A voice rang out, lazy but clear.
"I'll take her."
Silence.
Dozens of heads turned.
A boy stepped forward through the crowd. Tall, grey-haired, crimson-eyed. His robes hung loose and worn, sleeves too long, but there was a strange confidence in his stride. His gaze was calm. Detached.
Jin Mu.
Someone in the crowd burst into laughter. "Isn't that the disgrace of Emerald Cloud Peak?"
"What, picking trash to match your style now?"
"Trash teaching trash! Gods, what a joke!"
Mockery exploded like thunder. But Jin Mu didn't flinch.
He walked up to Li Yiran and placed a steady hand on her shoulder.
"I don't care if she has no root," he said, voice quiet but cutting, like the edge of a hidden blade. "She'll be a dragon before you even learn to crawl."
He met the examiner's eyes. "I'm her teacher now. Got a problem?"
The bald man opened his mouth—then closed it. His expression twisted with contempt but no rebuttal came. No rule forbade it. And none wanted to waste breath on a boy doomed to fail.
For a heartbeat, the courtyard stood still.
Then someone scoffed.
"Let the trash bury each other."
Laughter resumed, harsher this time.
Jin Mu ignored it all. He turned and walked away, robes swaying, head held high.
Li Yiran hesitated a breath—then followed silently behind.
As they left the crowd behind, she finally spoke, her voice low.
"Why did you choose me?"
He didn't look back.
"Because they already gave up on you," he said. "And people like that… either break—"
He glanced at her then, a strange glint in his eyes.
"—or break the world."
Yiran said nothing, but her pace grew steadier. Her fingers, once clenched, now relaxed by her sides.
Behind them, the snickering voices faded into mist.