Two years, like grains of sand through the hourglass of eternity, had now passed since the echoes of those previous, world-altering incidents faded into the tapestry of memory.
***
The Celestial Dragon Millennial Calendar now marked the 890th Year of the Lunar Dragon's 9th Cycle, with a mere, ominous decade remaining before the final, prophesied Chaos Dragon Cycle was to descend upon the mortal realm like a guillotine.
In the deepest, most profound hours of the night, when the veil between the world of the living and the realms of shadow is at its thinnest, within the dilapidated, skeletal confines of an ancient, abandoned courtyard, a solitary one-story structure stood in defiant ruin against the encroaching, hungry darkness.
A young man lay coiled like a question mark upon the cold, packed earthen floor, his limbs drawn taut against his torso in a posture of profound, instinctual vulnerability.
He was a vessel of average design in all respects—neither strikingly handsome enough to capture the eye of a goddess nor particularly plain enough to be forgotten—his countenance was one that would pass unnoticed and unremarked in the harsh light of day.
Yet now, bathed in the ethereal, ghostly veil of moonlight that sliced through a fractured window and a perforated roof like a celestial blade, his features took on the haunted, hunted aspect of one who flees from gods or demons.
His black hair, matted with the cold sweat of a nightmare and coated in the dust of ages, clung to his temples and the nape of his neck like grasping tendrils of shadow. His considerable height, measuring 1.76 meters, seemed to have folded in upon itself in an act of self-effacement, his knees drawn sharply toward his chest, his spine curved like a tensed, waiting bowstring.
Yet, for reasons that defied the logic of the mortal coil, in that very moment, the boy's form jolted with a violence that seemed to tear him from a deeper reality, and he awakened with a soul-shaking start.
A question, primordial and profound, as old as consciousness itself, echoed in the nascent, silent chambers of his awareness: 'Who am I?'
Blinking his eyes to dispel the encroaching, phantom-like shadows and gazing at his utterly unfamiliar surroundings, he posed another, equally profound question to the suffocating silence.
'Where am I?'
'Why does my head ache with such an agonizing, soul-splitting intensity?'
'Damn it! This pain… I cannot tolerate this violation of my being.'
A strangled, desperate cry tore from his lips as his world dissolved into a vortex of blinding whiteness and then absolute blackness, and he succumbed to the overwhelming, merciless pain that sought to extinguish his very consciousness.
Two hours later, as the first fragile, blood-red vestiges of dawn painted the eastern sky, consciousness returned to the vessel.
The boy jolted awake once more, but this time his mind possessed a fragile, crystalline clarity, as if his spirit were emerging from the abyssal depths of a lucid, prophetic dream.
His breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, a frantic, storm-like panting that filled the silent, hallowed air.
A sudden, earth-shattering revelation struck the boy with the concussive force of a physical, spiritual blow.
'Is this a second life, a second scroll of fate granted by the heavens, and have I, for some inexplicable reason, suddenly awakened the dormant memories of a past existence? Or have I been wholly and violently transmigrated into a new vessel, one that coincidentally bears the same mortal name as my own...'
After a few moments of strained, agonizing contemplation, he began the perilous task of sifting through the chaotic, raging torrent of memories he could presently recall from the storm in his mind.
'Now, I possess a greater, more terrifying clarity; this must be a transmigration, for my very thought processes and the core of my personality are still irrevocably rooted in my former life on a distant, world called Earth...'
'Hmm, and yet, perhaps not! What a confounding, maddening dilemma this is.'
'The memories of Earth feel akin to a lucid dream, a vibrant yet ephemeral vision that I am slowly, inexorably, and terrifyingly forgetting, whereas the memories of this world are somehow utterly clear and feel irrevocably permanent, as if carved into the jade of my very soul.
Yet I am certain that my cognitive patterns and fundamental thoughts align perfectly with the more than twenty years of my Earthly existence.'
'Furthermore, if this were merely a reincarnation with a sudden awakening of past-life memories, how could a twenty-year existence, a life of sorrow and struggle, manifest as a single, fleeting, night-long lucid dream?'
'Even in a world of wonders such as this, if such a thing were possible, it would surely be the handiwork of a supremely powerful, heaven-defying immortal being.
But a greater problem arises even with that theory, for I cannot be certain that even a being of such legendary, mythical power could accomplish such a soul-altering feat.'
'And most pivotally, this world, this foreign body, and these complete yet noble memories still feel utterly alien to my core being; therefore, I am reasonably certain that despite the haziness of my fading Earthly recollections, I have indeed been transmigrated across the sea of stars.'
Thus, the one now called Lu Shang began the vital, dangerous process of carefully compartmentalizing the two warring sets of memories, lest their violent confluence drive him to the very brink of spiritual and mental madness.
He reminisced about the world known as Earth, a memory that was already beginning to feel like a distant legend.
*
'On Earth, I lived a life of ignoble, soul-crushing toil, akin to a beast of burden chained to a millstone, but what choice did I have in the face of destiny? I possessed no significant backing or heaven-sent advantage, and my family's circumstances deteriorated day by day under the crushing, mountainous weight of immense debt.'
'Eventually, I abandoned my collegiate studies, a dream turned to ash, and shackled myself as a corporate slave to a soul-devouring private company—this was my undeniable, damnable truth.
I existed as a soulless, walking husk, utterly bereft of any ambition or greater purpose to ignite my spirit.
Thus, each day upon returning from my thankless labors, I would immerse myself in digital games or lose myself in the scrolls of novels late into the night, seeking a desperate escape from a harsh reality and indulging in a fantasy world, imagining myself a heaven-defying protagonist… Ahh!'
'Therefore, this Transmigration is a veritable, paradoxical godsend for me, yet the most perplexing part is that if this is truly a second life, I cannot recall the moment of my death in my previous world, nor what sacred or profane act I was performing at the moment of my demise...'
'Arg…?!'
A sharp, lancing pain, like a divine needle, shot through his skull!
Lu Shang felt the agonizing headache return with twice its former intensity as he tried to grasp his deeper, fading memories of Earth, the sensation akin to some invisible god directly probing the sanctum of his brain with their fingers.
Though he was already aware that many memories were fading like mist in the morning sun, he now found that the mere act of trying to deeply access them triggered this searing, unbearable pain.
For a full, torturous half-hour, Lu Shang persevered, attempting to recall various memories from his time on Earth and conducting agonizing mental experiments upon their fading forms.
What he discovered was that he could, with absolute, soul-tearing focus, recall nearly all the memories of his life on Earth, with the conspicuous, terrifying exception of his death or the circumstances of his arrival in this new, alien world.
However, the greatest side effect, the terrible price demanded for this recollection, was an unbearable, mind-splitting, sanity-shredding headache.
'If I can but endure this soul-flaying agony,' he mused with a grimace, 'I can even recall the web novels I consumed in my past life, chapter by precise, sacred chapter.'
Hahaha…haaah.
'This was a truly astonishing, heaven-shaking discovery, for despite the immense pain it caused, I am now one hundred percent certain that my past world was not a mere, fleeting dream; it was real, as real as the pain that now wracks my being.'
'And the nature of this memory lapse was such that my recollections were slowly receding into the deepest, starless abyss of my mind, rather than being erased entirely by some divine hand; with every passing moment, it feels as though I am forgetting something vital, as if some unseen, inexorable force is actively suppressing my ability to remember.
This is precisely why, whenever I attempt to forcefully recall something of profound significance, a sudden, sharp, punishing pain lances through my skull.'
Unexpectedly, a sheen of hot, sorrowful moisture welled up in his eyes, a testament to a loss he was only now beginning to comprehend.
'Focus! I must focus!' he commanded the warring factions of his mind.'
Lu Shang strained to remember with an even greater, more desperate force, though his head throbbed with a violent, thunderous rhythm; yet this physical torment was dwarfed by the sudden, acute, and chilling ache that blossomed like a winter rose in his heart.
He drew a sharp, shuddering breath that felt like swallowing shards of ice.
When Lu Shang exerted the full might of his will, he clearly recalled the visages of all of his family members: the loving, careworn faces of his parents, the bright, innocent affection of his younger sister—all of it seems to float before his very eyes even now, a gallery of ghosts in his mind.
Lu Shang can't help but feel a profound, soul-deep remorse.
'Though this transmigration was, in a strange sense, a wish fulfilled from a thousand lonely nights, in reality, it is utterly devoid of flavor, a feast of ashes without my loved ones by my side.
However, if the memories I have gained from this sudden Transmigration or Reincarnation are accurate, then this is a world of cultivation, a world where mortals can seize the power of gods; therefore, if I can attain sufficient, heaven-shaking power in the future, perhaps an opportunity will arise to tear open the veil between worlds and return to my former home, though I still do not know if I shall ever be able to see my family again in the river of time.
Thus, I must become powerful enough to shatter stars—whether I am called an immortal or a god, I care not—I simply require the strength to traverse the void between worlds, to return to my previous home and bring happiness and peace to the parents who toiled so relentlessly and sacrificed so much for my sake.
And if it is already too late for that, then I must attain such world-shaking, reality-bending power that I can reverse the very river of time itself to meet my parents once more and fulfill the dreams they laid at my shoulder...
This shall be my ultimate, sacred, and primary goal in this world, my one true Dao. Therefore, to achieve this final, monumental goal, I must advance with unwavering firmness and the extreme caution of a mortal walking among gods, making only the most correct, most precise decisions.
Because regardless of the circumstances, this must be my second chance at life, a new scroll of fate. I shall navigate this life with meticulous, painstaking care, leaving no room for a single stain of regret upon its surface.
And the memories of this current life are not obscured by a fading mist; they are perfectly, lucidly, and terrifyingly clear.'
In the web novels of my past, reading about the glories of cultivation and the path to immortality was a deeply satisfying balm to my wounded soul. The thousands of times I dreamed of being a heaven-defying Xuanhuan protagonist should now, in this new reality, find their ultimate, bloody fulfillment...
Since this cultivation world is a primordial domain where the law of the jungle prevails, a dog-eat-dog world where the strong prey upon the weak without mercy or remorse. There are absolutely no rules and regulations here akin to the fragile laws of Earth.
That is precisely why cultivation novels were so gratifying to the spirit; when the protagonist grew powerful, he would slay any who dared to obstruct his path and ascend to new, unimaginable heights of power.
Then again, when the protagonist ventured to a new, higher realm, he would first cultivate himself and grow stronger, then repeat the same sacred cycle of slaughter and ascension until he attained absolute, unrivaled, omnipotent power...'
'Hmmm…
Have I perhaps gotten a little carried away by the echoes of old dreams?
Because this is not a web novel I am reading in the safety of my room; for me, this is the real, unforgiving world, and a damnable, terrifying reality check for my previously aimless, wasted life.'
'But even so, this remains the ultimate wish-fulfillment scenario, the sacred dream for every otaku of the cultivation novel genre.'
'What in the name of the nine heavens?'
As Lu Shang's thoughts dwelled upon this brutal world of cultivation, fragments of memory from his second birth, sharp as daggers, suddenly flashed through Lu Shang's mind.
'Hold on... if I recall the memories of this body's original owner correctly, a chronicle of sorrow and tragedy, then I should not be celebrating so prematurely. Because this boy's life—or rather, this second life of mine—began from a starting point that was a veritable, inescapable hell when compared to my past, mundane existence.'
*