The sun hung low over the Whispering Valleys, painting the sky in streaks of orange and gold. In a small courtyard tucked behind a modest wooden compound, Jian Ruochen sat cross-legged on a woven mat, his simple training robes catching the last rays of light. Bamboo stalks swayed gently around him, their leaves filtering the sun into dappled patterns that danced across his lean frame. At fifteen, he was wiry and agile, his sharp features a mirror of his new mother's delicate beauty, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that rarely smiled. His long black hair was tied back in a loose knot, a few strands escaping to frame his face. His eyes, though, told a different story: dark and deep, they held a weight no teenager should carry, a flicker of something ancient and unyielding that hinted at the soul within.
Ruochen tried to focus on his breathing, guiding qi through his meridians as he'd done countless times in his past life. The air smelled of earth and green leaves, a far cry from the blood-soaked courtyard of his execution. But his mind refused to settle. Memories clawed their way up, unbidden, pulling him back to those first moments of his rebirth. The shock of waking in a tiny, helpless body, his adult mind trapped in an infant's form. The frustration of trying to speak, only to hear babbling cries spill from his lips. It had taken years to piece together his new reality, each discovery a mix of wonder and dread.
He was born to a humble family in a remote village on the edge of the Whispering Valleys, a place so small it barely had a name. His new father, Jian Hao, was a low-level cultivator, barely scraping by at the early stages of Qi Condensation. He ran the Gentle Stream Clan, a ragtag group of local martial artists who practiced basic forms in a clearing by the river. It was less a sect than a community, a place for farmers and shopkeepers to learn self-defense without dreams of grandeur.
His mother, Lin Mei, had no cultivation talent at all, but her hands were skilled with herbs, and her heart was warm in a way that still caught Ruochen off guard. They were nothing like the cold, ambitious figures of his old life in the Azure Sky Sect, no politics, no hidden knives. Just love, simple and unassuming.
Ruochen had grown fast, too fast. His past life's knowledge gave him an edge, letting him cultivate in secret, pushing his body to the peak of the Body Tempering Realm by thirteen. He'd hidden it, of course, faking clumsiness in training sessions with his father, letting other kids outshine him in village sparring matches. Attention was dangerous; he'd learned that the hard way when his rapid rise in the Azure Sky Sect painted a target on his back. Still, the effort to hold back chafed. He'd expected something more after his deal with that shadowy figure in the void, some sign of the "unstoppable" power promised. Fifteen years, and nothing. No voice, no system, just silence. Was it a trick? A test? The uncertainty gnawed at him, feeding his impatience. He'd been reborn for revenge, not to play the dutiful son in a quiet village. Yet every time he looked at his parents' kind faces, a part of him wanted this life to last.
He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes as the bamboo shadows stretched long across the courtyard. The meditation wasn't working today. Too many thoughts, too much waiting. He stood, brushing dirt from his robes, and headed toward the house. The compound was small but cozy, its wooden walls weathered but sturdy, surrounded by neat rows of herb gardens that gave off a faint minty scent. Inside, the smell of steaming rice and roasted vegetables greeted him.
His mother, Lin Mei, stood at a low wooden table, her sleeves rolled up as she sliced bamboo shoots with quick, practiced cuts. Her dark hair was pinned back, a few strands loose from the day's work, and her smile lit up when she saw him.
"Chen'er, you're done early today," she said, her voice bright. "Come help me. These shoots won't chop themselves."
Ruochen grabbed a knife and joined her, falling into the familiar rhythm of slicing. The blade felt good in his hand, steady and precise, a small echo of the sword forms he practiced in secret at midnight. "What's the village talking about now?" he asked, keeping his tone light. Lin Mei loved gossip, and it was the easiest way to get her talking.
"Oh, the usual nonsense," she said, tossing sliced shoots into a clay pot. "Old Man Zhang swears his chickens are laying fewer eggs because of a fox spirit. And Widow Liu caught her son sneaking off with that merchant's daughter again." She chuckled, shaking her head. "But there's something new. Travelers passing through mentioned a big sect stirring things up nearby. Azure something-or-other. Sounds like trouble."
Ruochen's hand paused, the knife hovering mid-cut. His heart gave a sharp thud, but he forced his face to stay calm. "Azure Sky Sect?" he asked, voice carefully neutral.
"That's the one!" Lin Mei nodded, oblivious to the storm in his mind. "They're building some fancy hall a few valleys over. People say they're recruiting, offering spirit stones to anyone who joins. Sounds like they're trying to swallow up every little clan around here."
Ruochen resumed chopping, slower now, his thoughts racing. The Azure Sky Sect. The name burned like a brand. In his past life, they'd been a towering force when he joined as a teenager, already established with grand halls and ruthless elders. They'd framed him, executed him, and his very own mother had stood by as the sword fell. But here, now, they were new, just a fledgling power clawing for dominance. The realization hit like a thunderbolt: that shadowy figure hadn't just given him a new body, it had thrown him back in time, five or seven years before the sect's founding in his original timeline. Why? To give him a head start on his revenge? Or something else?
He pushed the thought aside as Lin Mei kept talking, her voice a soothing backdrop. "Your father's at a meeting with the other clan heads. He's worried, you know. He doesn't like how pushy these Azure Sky folks sound. But he'll figure it out. He always does."
Ruochen nodded absently, his mind still on the sect. He remembered every face from that execution courtyard, Elder Ren's sneer, Brother Wei's smirk, his mother's cold silence. If the Azure Sky Sect was just starting, some of those faces might not even be there yet. But they would be, in time. And he'd be ready.
The door slid open, and Jian Hao stepped inside, his broad shoulders slumped with fatigue. He was a middle-aged man with a gentle face, his hands callused from years of farming and teaching basic martial forms. His cultivation was stuck at early Qi Condensation, limited by the valley's thin spiritual energy and lack of resources, but his eyes held a quiet strength. He carried a bamboo scroll from the meeting, tossing it onto the table with a sigh.
"Rough day, Father?" Ruochen asked, setting down his knife to help Lin Mei carry bowls to the low dining table.
Jian Hao managed a tired smile, ruffling Ruochen's hair as he passed. "Rough enough, Chen'er. The village heads are all in a tizzy about this new sect. Azure Sky, they call themselves. They're spreading fast, claiming land and demanding loyalty from every little group like ours."
They sat around the table, steam rising from bowls of rice and fish stewed with herbs. Lin Mei served Jian Hao first, her brow creasing with concern. "What did they say at the meeting? Are they trouble?"
Jian Hao chewed slowly, his expression darkening. "Trouble's putting it lightly. Travelers say the Azure Sky Sect sent emissaries to villages upriver. They're offering 'protection' if clans like our Gentle Stream swear allegiance, hand over half our harvests, and send our best students to their ranks. If you say no…" He trailed off, poking at his rice. "Well, let's just say those who refuse tend to have bad luck. Bandit raids. Fires. People vanishing."
Ruochen's grip tightened on his chopsticks, wood creaking faintly. His mind flashed to his past life, the Azure Sky Sect's tactics clear as day: frame threats, eliminate rivals, consolidate power through fear. He'd been one of their victims, accused of crimes he didn't commit because his talent threatened their hierarchy. Now, they were starting the same game here, and his father, kind, honest Jian Hao, was in their path.
"That's not right," Lin Mei said, her voice sharp. "You've worked hard to keep the Gentle Stream Clan peaceful. It's just a place for locals to learn, not some army for hire. Why can't they leave us alone?"
Jian Hao sighed, rubbing his temples. "I wish it were that simple, Mei. I've seen enough fighting in my younger days to know how this goes. Big sects like these, they talk about unity, but it's just greed dressed up in fancy robes. They want our land, our people, our spirit stones. And I'm not sure we're strong enough to say no."
Ruochen stayed quiet, his food untouched. His father's words echoed what he already knew from history or his future. The Gentle Stream Clan had never appeared in the records of his past life. No stories, no legends, not even a whisper. That meant one of two things: either the clan folded under pressure and joined the Azure Sky Sect, or it was wiped out entirely. And Jian Hao, with his steady cultivation and hidden potential, Ruochen could sense it, even if his father didn't, was exactly the kind of threat the sect would eliminate. Just like they'd eliminated him.
He remembered his father's lessons over the years, patient and kind. When Ruochen was five, he'd "accidentally" executed a perfect Crane Kick during a training session, a move far beyond a child's skill. Jian Hao had laughed, praising his "natural talent," but never pushed him to show off or compete. Instead, he'd sat him down and talked about balance, about using strength to protect, not dominate. Another memory surfaced: a cold night when Ruochen, barely seven, had woken from nightmares of his execution. His mother's lullabies had calmed him, her voice soft as she stroked his hair. This family was everything his old one wasn't, genuine, warm, untainted by ambition. Losing them wasn't an option.
He pushed his bowl aside, meeting his father's eyes. "What are you going to do about it?"
Jian Hao leaned back, his face tired but resolute. "I'll meet with their emissary tomorrow. Hear them out. Maybe there's a way to negotiate, keep our independence without starting a fight we can't win." He paused, smiling faintly. "Don't worry, Chen'er. I've handled worse than pushy sect recruiters."
Ruochen nodded, but inside, his blood simmered. Negotiate? With the Azure Sky Sect? He knew how they operated, promises of partnership, followed by betrayal when you were no longer useful. His father's kindness, his refusal to see the worst in people, would be his downfall. And Ruochen wasn't about to let history repeat itself. In his past life, he'd been blind to the sect's schemes until it was too late. This time, he'd see the knife coming.
He stood abruptly, the wooden chair scraping against the floor, drawing a concerned glance from his mother. "I'm going to train for a bit," he said, keeping his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "Need to clear my head."
Lin Mei frowned, her hands pausing over the dishes. "Don't stay out too late, Chen'er. The nights are getting colder."
Jian Hao gave him a nod, his tired smile unwavering. "Go easy on the training dummies. We can't afford to replace them every week."
Ruochen forced a grin, but it felt tight, like a mask. He slid the door shut behind him and stepped into the night, the cool air hitting his face like a slap. The stars were sharp above the Whispering Valleys, scattered across a velvet sky, and the river's soft rush filled the silence. He walked past the herb gardens, their minty scent fading as he reached the training clearing, a patch of packed dirt where his father taught village kids basic punches and kicks. A few wooden dummies stood at the edge, scarred from years of practice. Ruochen ignored them, pacing instead, his boots scuffing the earth.
His mind churned. The Azure Sky Sect was moving faster than he'd expected, already strong-arming villages when they'd barely laid their foundations. In his past life, they'd been a titan by the time he joined, their halls gleaming with stolen wealth, their elders wielding power that crushed any rival. But now, they were vulnerable, still building, still hungry. He could hit them early, sneak into their territory, steal their resources, maybe even find out who was pulling the strings. Names from his execution flashed through his head: Elder Ren, Brother Wei, the sect master with his cold hawk eyes. Were they there yet? Or were they still nobodies, scheming their way to power?
He stopped pacing, fists clenched so tight his knuckles ached. His father's face kept surfacing, those callused hands teaching him forms, that gentle laugh when Ruochen "accidentally" landed a perfect kick as a kid. Jian Hao was the kindest man he'd ever known, the kind who'd give his last spirit stone to a beggar or spend hours helping a clumsy student master a stance. In his old life, Ruochen's mother had been all ambition, pushing him toward greatness until she turned her back at his execution. Jian Hao was different. He didn't deserve to be crushed under the sect's boot. And Ruochen knew the pattern: the Azure Sky Sect would see his father's quiet strength, his untapped potential, as a threat. Just like they'd seen Ruochen's talent and framed him for it.
"I won't let it happen," he whispered, his voice low and fierce under the stars. "Not to him. Not to this family."
He kicked at a stone, sending it skittering into the river. The splash echoed, and he imagined it was the sound of bones breaking, Azure Sky bones. He'd start small, scout their new halls, maybe a day's journey from here. Find out their numbers, their defenses. If he could sabotage their supplies or scare off their recruits, it might slow them down, give his father's Gentle Stream Clan a chance to survive. His mind ticked through plans, each one colder, sharper. He wasn't the naive disciple anymore, trusting in loyalty and banners. He was a blade, forged in betrayal, and he'd cut first this time.
A sudden chill stabbed through him, sharp and deep, like plunging into an icy river. He froze, breath catching, as the air around him seemed to thicken. It wasn't the night's cold; it was the same bone-deep void he'd felt after his execution, when he'd fallen through layers of darkness to meet the shadowy figure. His heart pounded, loud in his ears. "What's this?" he muttered, glancing around the empty clearing. The river still flowed, the stars still shone, but the world felt... off, like it was holding its breath.
A voice rumbled in his head, deep and smooth, like distant thunder rolling over mountains. "The fire stirs at last. Betrayal's scent lingers, doesn't it?"
Ruochen spun, his hand instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't there. The clearing was empty, the dummies silent under the moonlight. But the voice was inside him, unmistakable, the same one from fifteen years ago, when he'd stood before that throne of blackened bones and crimson chains. "You," he said, voice low, eyes darting to the shadows. "Where have you been? Fifteen years, and not a single word. I thought you forgot me."
A low chuckle echoed in his mind, rich and knowing, with a hint of amusement. "Forgotten? No, mortal. I've watched you, letting your soul take root in this new life. A blade must be tempered before it cuts. Your anger, your resolve, it's ready now."
Ruochen's jaw tightened. "Ready for what? You promised power, a chance to make them pay. I've been waiting, stuck in this village, hiding who I am. What's the point of this deal if you leave me hanging?"
"Patience," the voice said, its tone carrying a weight that pressed against his mind. "The debts call, and you will answer. You feel it, don't you? The stirrings of those who wronged you, rising again in this time. The Azure Sky Sect carries the first marks."
Ruochen's breath hitched. "You knew? About them?"
"I know many things," the voice replied, smooth as silk but edged with iron.
"Their greed, their schemes, they echo the betrayals that bound me here. Serve me, Jian Ruochen, and become the blade that collects their blood debts. In return, power beyond your old life will be yours."
Before he could respond, a faint glow sparked in his vision, like a lantern flickering to life in his mind. A translucent screen materialized, its edges sharp and cold, words forming as if written in dripping blood.
[Initializing... Blood Debt System Online]
[Host: Jian Ruochen.]
[Required Hunts: Pending.]
[Optional Hunts: Pending.]
[Blood Points: 0]
[Debt Fragments: 0]
He staggered, the words searing into his thoughts. A rush of dark energy surged in his dantian, warm and heavy, like liquid fire pooling in his core. It wasn't qi, not exactly, but something sharper, hungrier. His senses sharpened, the night air suddenly alive with faint pulses, like distant heartbeats. Blood Sense, a whisper in his mind named it, unbidden. He could feel it: a tingling awareness, as if he could track a predator, or prey, by the echo of their life force.
"What is this?" he whispered, staring at the glowing screen in his mind. It pulsed, waiting, like a living thing.
"The Blood Debt System," the voice answered, its tone laced with satisfaction. "Your tool, your strength. It will mark those who owe blood to you, to me. Complete the hunts, and you'll unlock the Blood Path, a power no mortal sect can match. Your first mark will come soon. Feed me their debt, and rise."
Ruochen's heart raced, a mix of excitement and dread. This was it, the power he'd been promised, the key to his revenge. But the voice's words echoed with a weight he couldn't ignore. Feed me. What did that mean? Was he a partner in this deal, or just a pawn? He pushed the thought down, focusing on the screen. Required Hunts: Pending. The system was alive, and so was his purpose.
He looked out at the river, its surface glinting under the stars. The Azure Sky Sect was out there, growing, scheming, threatening everything he'd come to love. His father's gentle smile, his mother's warm hands, they wouldn't be taken from him again. He'd make sure of it, whatever the cost.
His lips curled into a grim smile, eyes blazing with a fire that matched the system's glow.
"I'm definitely going to do something about it," he said, voice steady and cold.
The Blood Debt System hummed in his mind, ready to guide his hand. The Azure Sky Sect had no idea what was coming.