The thick scent lingered in the cave, metallic and raw, clinging to the damp stone walls like a stubborn stain.
A young man sat motionless in the gloom, his eyes closed, as still as a corpse. Then, without warning, they snapped open, revealing a depth darker than the cave itself.
In front of him was a stone basin with red liquid residue at the bottom. Its faint smell told him it was the blood of some beast, the reckless tool that the previous owner of this body had used in a desperate attempt to cultivate.
Xue Mo slowly touched his chest. His last memory was of a golden light piercing through him, his soul unraveling, and the shadow of countless enemies closing in. He had felt his existence end in that moment. Yet here he was. Alive, in another body.
For a moment his thoughts churned. Ling Chen's face appeared in his mind, the betrayal carved into his memory like a scar that would never heal.
"Did I reincarnate?" he wondered silently.
He raised his hand and studied it. The fingers were thinner than his own had been, the skin pale, the spiritual energy weak and barely flowing. This body was fragile, but it was undeniably alive. He could feel blood coursing through it, and the sluggish pulse of a soul that was no longer its original owner's.
As he sat cross-legged, his mind was suddenly struck by pain. A sharp flood of foreign memories poured into him like water crashing through a broken dam.
"Nghh…" A muffled grunt escaped his throat as his skull felt ready to split. The fragments of another life stabbed into his consciousness: the struggles of a nameless disciple, the oppressive rules of the Azure Sky Sect, the weight of being judged unworthy. The memory of swallowing beast blood in desperation and being consumed by its feral nature.
Xue Mo endured, his eyes narrowing until the storm of pain settled. These memories did not belong to him, yet they fused with his own. Slowly he understood.
The name of this body was Lin Feng. He had been an outer disciple of the Azure Sky Sect, one of countless nameless faces who struggled at the bottom rung of the righteous faction.
So that was it. He had reincarnated inside the body of a failed disciple.
His lips curled faintly. "How ironic."
The Azure Sky Sect's rules unraveled in his mind. Disciples had to reach specific realms within strict time limits. Those who failed would be expelled without hesitation. Even inner disciples were not free from this rule. Everyone was forced to cultivate diligently or risk being cast out.
For most disciples this seemed harsh. But to Xue Mo, who had grown up within the demonic faction where the weak were torn apart by their peers or slaughtered in brutal tests, the Azure Sky Sect felt almost merciful. Expulsion instead of death. Rules instead of endless slaughter. By comparison, this was not cruelty. It was kindness.
In the original Lin Feng's memories, he had been at the fourth level of Qi Cultivation after years of effort. His talent was poor, his resources limited, and his time was almost up. The sect had given him one month to reach the sixth level. If he failed, he would be expelled.
No wonder Lin Feng had gambled with beast blood. No wonder he had died.
Xue Mo slowly exhaled, his thoughts steady. One month. To most outer disciples this was a hopeless sentence. But to him it was not even a challenge.
The betrayal of Ling Chen lingered at the back of his mind, the memory sharp and bitter. He had been discarded once. That would never happen again.
His expression calmed, and his breathing slowed. Assimilating another person's life was dangerous, but his soul had endured the tempering of countless battles and ascensions to the Saint Realm. He had been known as the Blood Emperor in the demonic faction, a name that shook entire regions. Compared to that, merging with the weak memories of Lin Feng was effortless.
He finally pushed himself to stand, though his body trembled from weakness. His muscles ached and his joints cracked with every movement. The power he once wielded, capable of shattering mountains with a single palm strike, was gone. This body was fragile, clumsy, and almost pitiful. But it was alive.
"Tch." A sharp exhale slipped through his teeth. "This body is truly useless."
Even so, he had no intention of giving up. He walked unsteadily toward the cave's entrance, each step more stable than the last. Locking the entrance behind him, he emerged into the morning light.
The stale air of the cave gave way to the crisp chill of dawn. Sunlight filtered down through drifting clouds, forcing him to squint for a moment. Before him stretched the modest landscape of the Azure Sky Sect's outer grounds. Low stone courtyards clustered around training fields, with disciples scattered about. Some practiced their sword forms, others sat in meditation, and a few chatted idly in groups.
Xue Mo adjusted the simple white robes of an outer disciple. His first goal was clear. He needed strength, and quickly. Without cultivation, he was nothing. Without resources, he could not cultivate.
He recalled Lin Feng's memories. Outer sect disciples could obtain a low-tier Qi Gathering Pill each day, a basic resource to sustain their progress. For now, that was his first step.
He walked through the sect grounds, his gaze calm and unreadable. A few disciples glanced at him, most ignored him. Lin Feng's reputation had been poor. A failure who struggled at the fourth level for years, a disciple no one took seriously. Some eyes even carried mockery, but Xue Mo paid them no mind. He had endured worse.
With steady steps, he reached the Internal Affairs Hall. The building was bustling with disciples. Some came to collect their pills, others lined up to register for sect missions.
He silently joined the line. Memories surfaced again. All disciples were required to complete one mission every three months. The former Lin Feng had not yet completed his, but there was still time. His priority was not a mission. It was to break through to the sixth level within the month.
After waiting, he received a single Qi Gathering Pill. It rested cool and small in his palm. Such a weak thing compared to the treasures he had once consumed in his former life. But at this stage, it was valuable.
He left the hall without a word and returned to his cave.
...
Inside, he sat cross-legged on the cold floor, the faint glow of the pill resting between his fingers.
What mattered now was strength. Only strength would allow him to control his fate. Only strength would prevent betrayal.
He had been one of the strongest Saint Realm powerhouses. Now he was a weakling at the fourth stage of Qi Cultivation. The fall was immense, but he felt no despair. To climb again from the bottom was simply another path.
Cultivation techniques determined one's future. The higher the rank, the greater the achievements. In his previous life he had gathered countless skills, some at the Saint rank. Each one priceless, each one capable of making entire sects fight to the death.
Yet he did not intend to practice any of them. Even before his death, he had considered discarding them. Because there was another art.
The Blood Deity Art.
He had found it in an ancient ruin in his past life. Its origin was unknown, its potential terrifying. By his own estimation, it surpassed the Saint category, perhaps even reaching the Supreme. But at that time, he had already been a Saint. The only way to cultivate it was to restart entirely. He had not dared.
That regret had haunted him.
Now, with this new life, he had the chance to start again. He did not know why the Blood Deity Art had followed him into reincarnation. But it was here, resting in his soul like a seed waiting to sprout.
"This body may be weak," he murmured softly, "but I am not."
Without hesitation, he placed the Qi Gathering Pill into his mouth and swallowed.
Warmth spread through his stomach, then his meridians. The spiritual energy was faint, but steady. He closed his eyes and guided it carefully. With precision honed from centuries of cultivation, he directed the flow, refining it, forcing it into the proper circulation paths.
This body resisted, sluggish and frail, yet under his control it yielded. Sweat gathered on his forehead as he refined every drop of energy, weaving it into the foundation of his cultivation.
Hours passed.
When he opened his eyes, a faint glimmer flickered across them. His breathing was smoother, his circulation steadier. This was only the beginning, but it was progress.
He clenched his fists, feeling the weak strength coursing through him. It was far from enough, but he had taken his first step.
His gaze hardened. "Ling Chen. You took everything from me."
His voice was low, steady, and cold.
"This time, I will take everything from you."
The heavens had erred in granting him another chance. This time, he would not stop until his vengeance and ambition were fulfilled.
The cave fell silent, the faint light of dawn spilling through the cracks, as if bearing witness to the rebirth of the Blood Emperor.