In the mortal world, far away from the great heavens of cultivation, the city of Whispering Bamboo was busy and alive. Merchants shouted in the streets, selling silk, jade, and steaming food.
"Get your fresh jade here! Perfect for gifts!" "Silk is so soft, you won't believe it! Come see for yourself!" "Hot dumplings, just made! Grab a bite before they're all gone!"
Carriages rolled over stone roads, and people crowded the bridges over the canals. But inside one quiet part of the city, past a grove of bamboo, the Han Family's Black Wood Pavilion was filled with panic.
Servants rushed around like chickens without heads. Their faces were pale with fear.
"Young master! Young master, I brought a doctor!" Attendant Wu called out, pulling a man in gray robes into the chamber. "He'll cure you!"
On the bed lay a young man, hair messy, lips pale, and the strong smell of wine clinging to him. His chest hardly rose and fell, like he was already at death's door.
Then—
A low groan came from his throat.
Wei Ji's mind swam back from darkness. He felt dizzy, his tongue heavy, and a sour, bitter taste of alcohol burned his mouth. He frowned as his eyes opened.
"…Who?" he asked in annoyance.
His gaze darted around. The rafters above him, the black wooden pillars, the simple furniture—it all looked old, far more primitive than what he remembered.
Attendant Wu froze in shock. The doctor in ceremonial clothing was clueless. The other servants were all frozen as if they were seeing a ghost. Just moments ago, the young master had seemed dead. No pulse and not breathing a bit. But now he was awake, eyes still fierce like a predator.
"Young master…?" Wu stuttered, not believing it. "But… just now you weren't breathing. How… how are you fine now?"
Wei Ji's voice cut through the air. "Huh?"
Wu blinked, then suddenly laughed with relief. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched his chest. "Young Master Han! You're alive! I thought you had drunk yourself to death, hah! Hahaha!"
But Wei Ji's face darkened. "Get out."
The words were cold, as if leaving no room for them to question him.
Wu quickly dropped to his knees and bowed. "Yes, young master! Right away!" He hurried to wave everyone out, even forcing the doctor back through the door. "Out everyone, out!" Soon, the room fell silent again.
Wei Ji let out a slow breath. Now that he was alone, his eyes grew cold and sharp.
"So… it worked." His voice was low, heavy with disbelief. "My research on time tampering actually worked. I passed through the river of time and ended up in this body—one called 'Young Master Han.'"
"Haha! I thought I would perish," he added.
He looked at the scrolls on the wall, the carved b.eams, the old-fashioned furniture. "This looks like the ancient times of my home planet… Am I really back on Earth?"
Then he froze. A faint trace of spiritual energy drifted through the air. Weak, thin, barely there—but to him whose soul was a million years old, he could immediately tell the properties of this one.
His brow tightened. "No. This isn't Earth."
It was impossible. Earth spiritual energy was not connected to the above realm. Or else it won't go round. This faint qi felt just like the energy of the Middle Realm, only weaker. No, not just weaker but much much much weaker. But it means it was connected to the above realms.
"Don't tell me…" His eyes narrowed. "This is a mortal world at the Lower Realm." Mortal worlds were countless, like sand in a desert. He assumed he had fallen into one of them.
Suddenly, the smell of wine reached his nose again. Sweet at first, but with a bitter, sharp note that turned sour. Something's wrong. Sour? Is this alcohol sour? He narrowed his eyes and realized what made it sour. "Poison."
Wei Ji touched his stomach. The poison had probably killed the real owner of this body, but because of it, the body had been open for him to enter and occupy it.
Without hesitation, he tore open his robe. His chest was thin and faintly bruised. He shaped his hand like a blade, drawing a trace of the surrounding spiritual qi into his palm. Although it wasn't as strong as a proper use of spiritual qi compared to a normal cultivator, it was enough for him now.
Stab!
He struck his stomach hard, blood splattering across his robe. His body shook, coughing out thick, black blood clots that smelled of rot and wine. His chest heaved, but his eyes were steady.
"Whoever poisoned this body…" He spat blood on the floor. "…I should thank them. Now, this body is mine."
He sat cross-legged, blood dripping from his lips. His first thought was survival. He needed to cultivate. Without power, he would be nothing wherever he goes. That's his motto of life. To make sure he keeps surviving, he must seek strength first to fight back wherever he ends up.
Wei Ji closed his eyes, pulling at the weak energy in the air. Slowly, the thin strands of qi drifted toward him. But the moment they touched his body, they slipped away like sand through his fingers.
His eyes opened sharply.
"…No spiritual root?" His voice was cold. "This body has no talent at all?"
For most people, this would be the dead end. A hopeless situation. But Wei Ji was not like most people. He had led a great sect, fought across realms, and studied the deepest mysteries of cultivation.
"This is nothing."
He raised his hands, shaping them into blades again.
Bang!
He struck his own chest. Then again—Bang! Bang! His body rocked with each blow, blood spraying from his lips. He hammered his own meridians, breaking and reshaping them with sheer force.
"This mortal body… I'll remake it with my own hands."
The faint qi in the room quivered. Slowly, it began to flow into his wounds. He gritted his teeth, guiding it down into his dantian. It was weak and clumsy, but it moved smoothly.
Soon enough, the energy whirled inside him. First it was like a mist, then slowly pressing tighter until it shaped into the faint outline of a root. Not solid yet, but slowly started taking form.
Wei Ji's body spasmed. Because the energies he guided inside turned wild, rampaging inside him like a beast in chains tackling different directions.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He struck himself again, each blow locking the energy inside. His vision blurred. Blood poured from his nose, ears, even his eyes. Pain raked through every bone in his body. But he endured.
"This is the hardest part…" His breath came ragged. "…the birth of a root."
His body twisted as if it would tear apart. The energy inside tried to escape, ripping through his veins causing him to bite down hard that his gums started bleeding.
"Condense!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The chamber trembled. His body shook violently, then it went completely still.
Knock. Knock.
A voice came through the door. "Young master? Young master, I… I brought something for you," it was Attendant Wu.
Inside the room, Wei Ji's eyes opened.
"Leave it there," his rang out fiercely.. "And remember this—don't come back until I call for you. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, do not disturb me. I will seek you out when I am ready."
His tone carried a sharp edge, firm enough to make the man outside freeze. Wei Ji's gaze stayed locked on the door, his eyes were cold and steady, as though they could pierce through wood and see the attendant's nervous posture on the other side.
The shadow of the attendant bowed quickly, though his voice sounded unease. "Y-yes, young master." Yet even as he turned to leave, a whisper escaped his mouth, "Still angry over the marriage yesterday… sigh…"
The faint shuffle of retreating footsteps followed, fading into the distance.
Wei Ji sat unmoving, his head slightly tilted, listening carefully. Every word, every mutter, had reached his ears as if spoken directly beside him. His sharp hearing, honed in his previous life as a sect leader, had not dulled even in this weaker body.
"Marriage?" he murmured to himself, his brow knitting. "So this body was troubled by that before I took it over."