The AC worked hard, a steady sound fighting the heavy, hot air of Mumbai. In the Cool apartment, Karan was in his own personal heaven. It was the ideal Sunday. His parents were out at a relative's event, giving him the three perfect things for a teen: a house all to himself, complete command of the giant TV, and no one to nag him about "sitting properly to eat."
He was sunk deep into the soft cushions of the sofa, a happy sigh leaving his mouth. On the television, his favorite historical drama was on. Warriors in metal armor on horses fought with clashing swords, their moves like a powerful, graceful performance. A king, with a voice full of command, was making a passionate speech. "This earth is only for the powerful!" the king roared.
Karan let out a dismissive snort as he put a spicy, golden-brown potato snack into his mouth. "It's simple for you to talk like that," he muttered at the screen. "You don't have a pile of schoolwork waiting for you."
This was pure happiness. No stress, no interruptions. Only him, his television show, and the amazing collection of snacks he had gotten delivered. On the low table in front of him was a feast fit for a king: a stack of golden-brown, crispy samosas, their delicate, layered crust hiding a delicious filling of seasoned potatoes and peas, a small bowl of bright green coriander dipping sauce, and another of dark, sweet-and-sour tamarind chutney. This was the highest achievement of human comfort.
He was completely lost in the show. His body was in the modern world, but his mind was centuries away, living in the grand battles on the screen. He picked up a samosa, its triangle shape the perfect package for something so tasty. He took a big, enthusiastic bite. The crispy outer layer broke apart with a wonderful crunch. The rich tastes of roasted cumin, sharp chili, and soft potato burst in his mouth. It was flawless.
Right at that moment, on the television, the hero's serious right-hand man made a dry, clever joke during a very stressful military meeting. The timing was brilliant and it was extremely funny. Karan, with his mouth still full of food, couldn't stop himself and erupted in laughter.
It was a fatal mistake.
In that tiny moment of uncontrolled laughter,a hard, sharp piece of the fried samosa crust, which he was just going to swallow, got sucked into his airway. It flew down the wrong tube, jamming itself tightly in his throat.
The sound of his laugh was cut off in an instant, replaced by a sudden, frightening quiet. His eyes opened wide in alarm.
A single, choked gurgle came out—a wet, strained noise that was meant to be a cough but had no air behind it. His body shook, trying again by itself, but his throat was completely blocked. A cold feeling of shock rushed through him. This can't be real. I just have to cough and it will come out.
He tried to cough. Nothing happened. He tried again, harder! His body shook and struggled on its own, but his throat was completely blocked. He couldn't pull any air in. He couldn't push any air out.
The first feeling was a cold shock, like being splashed with ice water. Then, pure panic took over. It was a raw, icy, primal fear that gripped his whole body. He let the unfinished samosa fall, his hands shooting up to his throat, scratching and clawing at his own neck as if he could rip the blockage out with his bare hands.
He staggered to his feet,, his sight already blurring with black floating spots. The noises from the television—the ringing swords, the emperor's powerful speech—turned fuzzy and far away, like he was listening to them from the deepest part of a dark pit.
I'm choking! his mind screamed, a desperate, soundless chant. I'm really choking! This is impossible. This is ridiculous!
He stumbled towards the kitchen, his body screaming for oxygen that couldn't arrive. The sight of the fallen samosa on the floor, looking harmless and almost like it was making fun of him, burned into his dimming sight. His thinking turned into a confused mix of the grand TV show and his own terrifying situation.
The strong survive... I can't... breathe... Mom... Dad... a samosa...
The room spun, all the colors mixing into a dull, gray fog. The very last thing he felt was the spicy, earthy taste of the samosa in his mouth. After that, there was only darkness
.....
The aroma of soup and the chaotic noise of a busy street market hit him forcefully, even before his eyes could properly focus.
Lin Feng jolted awake,a harsh, gasping breath tearing into his lungs so fiercely he nearly choked a second time. His hand slapped to his neck, expecting to find the hard piece of samosa shell, but instead, he only felt the rough, scratchy cloth of a plain tunic.
This was not his apartment in Mumbai.
He was hunched over a scratched,old wooden counter. In front of him was a small, simple shop. A big cooking pot, cold and unused, rested on a silent stove. Out the open door, a lively, noisy world was on display.
The buildings looked just like those from his TV show: short structures made of wood with curved tile roofs, stalls offering hot food and cheap goods, and everyone dressed in old-fashioned tunics and robes. The air was heavy with the yells of sellers, the rumble of wooden wheels, and the scents of dirt, sweat, and street food.
"Wha...?" he muttered, his head pounding.
Then,it slammed into him. Not a hit from a fist, but a huge wave of remembrances. Two complete lives' worth of memories, smashing against each other inside his mind.
He remembered his life as Karan. It was a good life. School, friends, his parents' smiling faces. He could almost feel the cool TV remote in his hand and taste the delicious, crispy samosa that had killed him. The memory of choking, the panic, the darkness... it was all so real it made him shake.
At the same time, a whole new set of memories crashed into his mind. This was the life of a boy named Lin Feng. An orphan, with no one in the world. His only possession was a broken-down noodle shop. He remembered counting every single coin, trying to survive in a city that didn't care if he lived or died. He felt the gnawing hunger of empty nights and the heavy tiredness that never went away. It was a hard, painful life.
The two streams of consciousness merged, settled, and became one.
Lin Feng—the new Lin Feng, the one who was once Karan—stared at his calloused hands, then at the dusty, near-empty shop. The realization was a cold, heavy stone in his gut.
He looked at the silent cooking pot and spoke in a low voice. "So... I died. Because of a samosa?" The idea was so silly it felt like a bad joke. A part of him wanted to laugh, but another part wanted to cry. He thought of all the epic ways people died in stories, and then he thought of his own end—a piece of street food.
He was Lin Feng now. A poor orphan with a failing noodle shop in a strange, ancient world. His business was so bad, it could close any day. A deep, cold sadness started to fill him—a feeling he recognized from this body's own memories.
It was the violent shock of his death and rebirth that had done it. Dying from that samosa was so traumatic it shattered the wall between his two souls. His old self and this new one were now forcefully merged into one person.
Just as he felt he might break down, the air in front of him suddenly wavered like heat on a road.
A glowing blue screen appeared from nowhere, flickering like a broken TV. Words scrolled across it, and a panicked voice spoke directly into his brain.
~USER FOUND! SOUL: KARAN.
CONFIRMED!~
~CHECKING YOUR NEW WORLD...ERROR! ERROR!~
~A MISTAKE HAS BEEN MADE!~
The voice explained that his soul had been sent to the wrong world by a cosmic clerical error. They were very, very sorry.
~TO FIX THIS, WE OFFER ONE (1) APOLOGY GIFT PACKAGE!~
"Apology... package?" Lin Feng stammered, completely lost.
~YES! SENDING GIFTS NOW!~
Two pictures flashed on the screen.
GIFT ONE: [The Divya Kavach]
A picture of a shiny golden vest appeared.
What it does:Makes you completely unkillable. Once it's part of your soul, nothing can hurt you—not swords, poison, or even magic. All attacks will feel like a gentle breeze. It also freezes your age at 17 forever. You cannot die.
Lin Feng's mind went blank. Unkillable? Stay 17 forever? Was this a dream?
Before he could think, he saw the second gift.
GIFT TWO: [The Divine Bow]
He felt a warm,powerful feeling grow in his chest. In his mind, he saw a beautiful bow made of starlight and darkness.
What it does:This magic bow is tied to your soul. It doesn't need real arrows. Every time you get stronger and reach a new level of power, you will unlock one special magic arrow. Each arrow can do an amazing thing. For example: one arrow can erase anything it hits. Another can teleport someone far away. Another can make a new rule that everyone must follow. Be very careful—these arrows can change the world.
The screen started flickering even more wildly.
~THE GIFTS ARE YOURS!WE MUST GO NOW FOR SYSTEM REPAIRS AND TO PUNISH THE CLERK WHO MADE THIS MISTAKE! GOOD LUCK! YOU'LL PROBABLY NEED IT!~
Bzzt! The screen and the voice vanished. Lin Feng was left alone in the silent, dusty shop, his heart pounding.
The stool creaked as Lin Feng sat there, all by himself.The noisy street outside his shop suddenly felt distant and quiet. He looked down at his own hands—the thin, rough hands of a poor orphan. At the same time, he could feel the Divine bow sleeping deep inside his soul, a quiet but incredible power. And he knew, without a doubt, that the Divya kavach was now a part of him. A shield that nothing in this world could ever break. A strange, new confidence began to warm his cold despair.
He left his old self behind. He was no longer the boy who was weak and died eating a samosa. Now, he was different. He was unkillable. A invincible weapon was now a part of his very being. This world of martial artists, great dynasties, and Jianghu chaos was his new home. And he was no longer at the bottom. He was protected by a power no one here could understand
He began to smile. It was a slow, shaky smile at first, because he could hardly believe it. But the smile grew stronger and more sure.His old life ended because of bad luck. But this new life? It was starting with the strangest, most amazing piece of good luck imaginable
He picked up a dirty rag from the counter. He looked around his dusty, failing shop. Then he looked outside at the dangerous, exciting world. A world where warriors could jump over houses and break rocks with their hands.
He let out a soft laugh.It felt weird to laugh here.
"Well,"he said to the empty room. The memory of the samosa was finally gone. "I guess choking on my food is the last thing I need to worry about now."