Two figures were floating in the pitch-black place, suspended in an endless expanse of absolute nothingness. The darkness here was different from ordinary darkness—it was the absence of everything, a void so complete that even the concept of emptiness seemed inadequate to describe it.
The only source of light in this desolate place was the glowing golden wheel with a Yin-Yang symbol floating behind one of the figures. The wheel rotated slowly, majestically, casting an ethereal golden radiance that pushed back against the oppressive darkness. Its light pulsed rhythmically, like the heartbeat of the universe itself.
One of these two figures was a young man of mixed Asian and American blood in his twenties. His naked body was translucent and hazy because he was just a soul without a physical body. Without flesh to anchor him, his form flickered occasionally, like a candle flame in a gentle breeze. He could see through his own hands if he looked closely enough—a surreal, unsettling experience that he was still processing.
The other figure was an elder with long white hair that flowed down to his waist, moving as if caught in an invisible wind. His robes were in tatters as if he had just finished a fight—tears and burn marks covered the once-magnificent fabric, and there were still traces of what looked like golden ichor staining the edges.
This was clearly someone who had just survived a battle of unimaginable proportions.
"I am sorry, child. It seems that during my fight against a Malevolent Entity, our clash accidentally killed you," the old man began, his voice heavy with genuine regret. Each word seemed to carry weight, resonating through the void itself. "Your abnormal death got you kicked out of your universe. We are currently in the void between universes in the vast multiverse."
He gestured around them at the endless darkness.
"This place exists outside the normal flow of reality—a space between spaces, where the laws of physics as you knew them have no meaning."
"I see," the young man responded calmly.
He didn't freak out nor did he display other over-the-top reactions. No screaming, no panic attacks, no denial. His response was measured, accepting—perhaps surprisingly so for someone who had just learned of their own death.
But then again, his life had taught him that panic solved nothing.
He knew that the old man hadn't told him a lie. There was something in those ancient eyes, something in the way reality itself seemed to bend around the elder, that made deception feel impossible. He remembered that he was on his way home from his workplace when a flash of light suddenly robbed him of his sight and consciousness.
One moment he'd been walking down the familiar street, earbuds in, thinking about whether he had enough leftovers for dinner. The next moment—nothing. Just a brilliant, all-consuming light, and then darkness.
After that, he found himself in this place, face to face with a being that was clearly beyond mortal comprehension.
After pondering for a while, processing this impossible situation with a calmness that surprised even himself, the young man spoke up, "So, will you reincarnate me to another world?"
The question hung in the void between them. It was almost absurd how quickly he'd moved from 'I'm dead' to 'what's next?'—but what else was there to do? Cry about it? He'd learned long ago that life doesn't wait for you to be ready.
The old man shook his head, though there was a slight smile on his ancient features. "Why do you want to be reincarnated in another world? I can resurrect you in your world so that you can continue your life as if nothing has happened, you know."
He waved his hand, and images flickered in the air—glimpses of the young man's original world, his apartment, his workplace. "I could return you to the moment before impact. Your timeline would continue uninterrupted. No one would ever know you'd been gone."
"Please send me to another world," the young man insisted, his voice firm and resolute.
There was no hesitation in his tone, no uncertainty. He'd made his decision in that brief moment of contemplation, and he wasn't going to second-guess himself now.
The old man studied him carefully, those ancient eyes seeming to peer into the very essence of his soul. The silence stretched for several long moments as the elder contemplated.
"Are you sure?" he asked the young man, his voice carrying an undertone of something—curiosity, perhaps, or approval. "Once you step on this path, there will be no return. You will leave behind everything you knew."
"Yes." The young man nodded firmly, meeting the elder's gaze without flinching. "I'm absolutely sure."
His translucent form seemed to solidify slightly with the strength of his conviction.
"Alright, since you are insisting on being reincarnated in another world, I will grant your request," the old man said, nodding slowly. "Moreover, I will give you a boon so that you can live in another world."
The golden wheel behind him suddenly blazed brighter, its light intensifying until it was almost blinding. The Yin-Yang symbol at its center began to spin faster, and the air—if it could even be called air in this place—thrummed with power.
The elder raised his hand, and reality itself seemed to bend to his will.
"I grant you immortality—so long as even one person remembers you, you shall never truly perish."
The words echoed through the void like a divine decree, each syllable carrying weight beyond mere sound. The young man felt something fundamental shift within his soul, as if the very fabric of his existence was being rewritten.
Immortality.
Was this not the ultimate dream of all cultivators?
The young man felt excited after hearing the old man's words, his soul practically vibrating with barely contained euphoria. Immortality! True, genuine immortality—not the kind where you still die to plot-convenient poisons or jealous rivals, but real, lasting immortality tied to memory itself!
His plan was to get reincarnated as a Xianxia protagonist with a strong Plo—ahem, with a strong Fate.
He caught himself mid-thought, almost laughing at how transparent his desires were. But why hide it? This was his second chance at life—might as well be honest about what he wanted.
He's a fan of Xianxia stories. Sue him.
He'd spent countless hours reading web novels, manga, and watching anime about cultivation worlds. Stories of mortals defying heaven, gathering harems of jade beauties, and slapping the faces of arrogant young masters who didn't know their place. It was his escape from the mundane drudgery of his real life.
If he was reborn as one of those Xianxia protagonists with strong fates, he would let Fate carry him while trying to avoid the pitfalls. Don't be an arrogant young master yourself. Don't offend mysterious old beggars. Do help jade beauties in distress. He was certain that he could reach the apex of that universe with the plot armor of a main character backing him up.
"Anyway, let's start with your destination. Do you have any preference about your destination?" the old man said, his horsetail whisk swaying gently, leaving trails of golden light in the void. "There are countless worlds in the vast multiverse. Anything you imagine, even the most outrageous imagination, probably exists somewhere there."
The old man's words opened up a universe of possibilities. Infinite worlds, infinite opportunities. The young man's mind raced with scenarios from all the stories he'd consumed over the years.
The young man returned to his senses and nodded. Then, he contemplated for a moment before talking, organizing his thoughts and desires into a coherent request.
"Alright, I want to reincarnate as the main character of a cultivation world that is both vast and as the protagonist of that world and get his memories without being affected by his feelings."
The words came out clearly, firmly. He knew exactly what he was asking for, and he'd thought through the implications.
He knew that he would indirectly kill original Hero, but he didn't care.
If he gets an opportunity that forces him to sacrifice a stranger, he will always prioritize his own future over the lives of strangers. That was just reality—cold, harsh, and unforgiving. In the grand scheme of things, one life traded for another. He'd be taking over a body, stealing someone's destiny, but that someone was a stranger. A fictional character, really, or might as well be.
He wouldn't lose the flicker of his sleep if a stranger died next to him. He only cares about himself and those closest to him.
That's just who he was. No point in pretending to be some selfless hero when he'd been given a second chance.
He's not a saint. He is a selfish man who wants to have a fulfilling life.
And he'd stopped apologizing for that a long time ago. The world doesn't reward saints—it chews them up and spits them out. He'd learned that lesson watching his parents' "good karma" fail to save them from a drunk driver.
His life has taught him that he must take chances without hesitation. His life was full of ups and downs, and the downs had taught him more than the ups ever could.
He grew up with loving and supportive parents, but they unexpectedly died in a car crash when he was in the second semester of college.
The memory still stung, even now as a disembodied soul floating in the void. He could still remember the phone call, the police officer's carefully neutral voice, the way the world had seemed to tilt sideways. "I'm sorry for your loss" became the most hated phrase in his vocabulary.
Following that, he dived into the harsh reality unprepared. He worked as a laborer in a warehouse to support his life.
No time to grieve properly, no time to process. Bills didn't stop coming because you were sad. Rent didn't pay itself. He'd dropped out of college mid-semester, packed up his dorm room, and found the first job that would take him—manual labor, lifting boxes forty hours a week, sometimes more when they offered overtime.
It was a harsh, demanding, and unfulfilling life. At least, the hookers he rented occasionally and the internet made his life more bearable.
He wasn't proud of it, but he wasn't ashamed either. When your life consists of wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat, you take pleasure where you can find it. The internet gave him stories of other worlds, other possibilities. The women gave him a few hours where he could pretend someone cared, even if he was paying for the illusion.
His reason to get reincarnated in the world of Xianxia was that he'd like to binge-read the novels and was a avid fan of those.
Those stories had been his lifeline, his escape hatch from reality. Reading about protagonists who started from nothing and rose to become gods, who gathered beautiful companions and toppled evil sects, who lived exciting, meaningful lives full of adventure and purpose—it made his own life feel less suffocating.
His main priority was to have a fun, satisfying life. Not fixing the problem in that universe.
He wasn't looking to be a savior or a hero. He didn't care about saving the world or righting wrongs. He just wanted to live—really live, not just exist. Experience things. Feel things. Build something that mattered to him.
He wanted to get a harem!
And yes, he wanted beautiful women who actually wanted to be with him, not because he was paying them by the hour. Was that shallow? Maybe. Did he care? Not particularly. He'd spent his first life alone and miserable—his second life was going to be different.
The old man waved his horsetail whisk and sent a stream of light from his horsetail whisk towards the young man's forehead.
The golden light shot through the void like a comet, bridging the distance between them in an instant. When it made contact, the young man felt a surge of warmth—not physical warmth, since he had no body, but something deeper. Soul-deep.
Information began flooding into his consciousness. Memories that weren't his, knowledge of a world he'd never seen, understanding of cultivation techniques and sect hierarchies and—
Just as his soul was dissipating, gradually becoming more translucent as the reincarnation process began, "Thank you for granting my selfish requests." the young man lowered his head in gratitude.
Despite his earlier cynicism, despite his selfish motivations, he genuinely meant it. This being had no obligation to help him, could have just as easily let his soul dissipate into nothingness. Instead, he was being given not just a second chance, but a better chance.
"Don't be too polite. In the first place, your death is my mistake," the old man said, waving his hand dismissively, though there was warmth in his ancient eyes. "Anyway, I will send you to your destination."
The golden wheel behind the elder spun faster, its light growing more intense, more brilliant. The void itself seemed to tremble with the power being gathered.
"Okay. I'm ready."
The young man—or the soul that had been a young man—steeled himself for whatever came next. Excitement, nervousness, anticipation all swirled together into a potent cocktail of emotion that made his translucent form shimmer and pulse.
This was it. The end of one life and the beginning of another. A true fresh start in a world where anything was possible.
A light suddenly covered the young man, brilliant and warm and all-encompassing. Then, the light brought the young man somewhere, pulling him through dimensions and realities, leaving a trail of light like a comet blazing across the infinite darkness of the void.
He felt himself being pulled, stretched, compressed, reformed. Reality blurred around him as he crossed boundaries that weren't meant to be crossed, traveled distances that couldn't be measured in mere miles or light-years.
Left alone, the old man watched the young man until the light disappeared, becoming smaller and smaller until it was just a pinprick in the infinite darkness, and then finally vanishing completely as it pierced through to another universe entirely.
The elder stood in silence for a long moment, his tattered robes swaying in the windless void, the golden wheel still rotating slowly behind him.
A moment later, the old man also disappeared, fading away like morning mist under the sun, his presence withdrawing from this small corner of existence.
Stillness returned to this small part of the vast void of Multiverse.
The darkness reclaimed its domain, absolute and eternal. No light, no sound, no movement—just the infinite, patient emptiness that existed between all things, waiting for the next cosmic accident, the next impossible meeting, the next soul to pass through on its way to somewhere else.
And somewhere, in a cultivation world full of immortals and sects and ancient mysteries, a young man was about to wake up with memories of two lives and the gift of immortality.
His story was about to begin.