The Rana Clan possessed more land and resources than any other clan in the county. Its territory covered approximately 7.69 million square kilometers, stretching nearly 2,200 kilometers from east to west along the Himalayan mountain range and over 1,000 kilometers from north to south, its borders marked in places by glaciers that had never once, in living memory, fully melted.
From birth, every person awakened with a talent ranging from one to nine stars. To be born with even two stars was considered nothing short of a miracle. Such individuals were so rare that most people would never meet one in their entire lives, the number itself passed down more as legend than expectation.
The villagers worshipped Shree Yan as a child blessed by the heavens, mothers pointing him out to their children in the street as an example of what fortune, properly earned, could look like.
Only Shree Yan knew the truth. In his previous life, he had believed himself to be the greatest genius under heaven. That illusion shattered after he encountered true monsters, individuals whose talent and strength dwarfed his own, figures who made his own considerable gifts look, in hindsight, almost pedestrian. Compared to them, he had been nothing more than an ant staring at the sky from the bottom of a well, a truth that had cost him decades to fully accept.
In the Rana world, the true source of power was the Mystical Worms.
They were not ordinary insects but spiritual beasts born from the essence of heaven and earth. Although uncommon, they could be found deep within ancient forests and forgotten mountains, in places most cultivators would never think to search. Each Mystical Worm possessed a unique ability. Some could merge with their masters, some transformed the body, while others granted extraordinary powers.
To form a bond with a Mystical Worm, one had to offer a drop of blood. Once the bond was formed, the worm and its master shared a spiritual connection. If the master died, the worm would simply escape and seek a new owner.
The master, however, could never survive the loss of the worm.
Because of this risk, many people feared forming contracts with Mystical Worms, the danger enough to keep most cultivators content with lesser, safer paths to power.
Some worms fed on sunlight. Others fed on blood.
*The worm I possess is called Rana,* Shree Yan thought, standing quietly at the edge of the ceremonial hall while the murmur of the gathering crowd rose steadily behind him. It is a Blood-Attribute Mystical Worm capable of gathering information. After merging with my eyes, it lets me perceive the hidden properties of people, beasts, treasures, and artifacts. My current cultivation is only One-Star Late Stage, so its vision is limited for now. But Rana is no ordinary worm. It ranks among the Ten Supreme Mystical Worms.
Shree Yan stepped forward without the slightest change in expression, his footsteps unhurried against the polished stone floor of the hall.
Slowly, he raised his right hand, feeling the cool, ancient stone rise to meet his palm, and placed it upon the awakening stone.
The stone trembled, a faint vibration traveling up through his wrist and into his arm.
A brilliant radiance erupted from its surface, flooding the hall with dazzling golden light bright enough to force several onlookers to shield their eyes. Ancient energy surged through every carved rune as the entire stone pulsed with overwhelming power, the runes themselves seeming to breathe with each new pulse of brightness.
The hall fell silent, the earlier murmur dying instantly.
Everyone stared in disbelief.
Blue.
Purple.
Violet.
Yellow.
Gold.
The colors shifted one after another before finally settling into a magnificent golden glow, steady and unshifting, as though the stone itself had finally found what it was searching for.
Shree Yan's pupils contracted.
"What... just happened?" he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
In his previous life, the awakening stone had stopped at purple.
This time, everything had changed.
His gaze fell, almost without his willing it, upon the Rana worm hidden within him, some quiet recalculation already beginning behind his composed expression.
So. It was because of you.
The Rana worm was, in truth, a four-star rank worm. The elders had never been able to sense it. Because Shree Yan couldn't yet draw on its full power, its presence stayed hidden even from those who might have looked directly for it. Even if they had tried to search inside his body, they would have found nothing. He had already sealed it behind a barrier in his previous life, layered deep enough that even seasoned elders would find nothing but ordinary flesh and blood.
He hadn't wanted the worm falling into anyone else's hands back then, and fate, unexpectedly, had given him one more chance at it now. Was this the heavens' true choice? Or were the heavens simply amusing themselves with his life once again?
An hour passed. Everyone in the hall stood frozen, mouths hanging open, breath forgotten in throats too stunned to remember how to swallow.
"Miracle!"
A young man roared, the single word cracking loud enough to finally break the hall's silence.
"Miracle! He is a miracle, he is a genius!" Others quickly took up the cry around him.
This moment, for every young disciple and elder alike, felt like something rare and brilliant: witnessing, in their own era, the future of the clan taking shape before their eyes. To have been born into this era at all suddenly felt, to many watching, like its own kind of fortune.
Stars were the essence of the Rana world, and of the universe itself. Where there was a star, there was essence. Where the stars vanished, the universe began to wither.
Shree Yan had finished his awakening. He turned and walked forward, calm as water, his expression betraying nothing of the calculations still turning quietly behind his eyes.
"Brother Shree Yan, please become my husband!"
He is so handsome.
He is so attractive.
"Brother Shree Yan, please marry me!" Young women called out from the crowd, several pressing forward against the line of guards holding the onlookers back.
"Brother He Meng, look at him," Hu Meng said, leaning close enough to be heard over the growing noise. "He's calm. He didn't show a flicker of emotion even after achieving that. People wait a thousand years just to imagine achieving something like it."
"Yes, this boy is too impressive. No visible emotion, no attitude about any of it. Interesting," He Meng replied, watching Shree Yan's retreating back with narrowed, calculating eyes.
A young girl entered the ceremony hall, calling for her mother, her small voice carrying clear and sharp across the noise, ringing all the way into the awakening hall's inner chamber.
The moment the word "Mother" reached him, Shree Yan collapsed, his knees buckling without warning, the golden light of his triumph forgotten entirely in an instant.
Elders, youngsters, the Metal Brothers, Elder Tanzeng, all of them shocked and confused, several rising abruptly from their seats. The examination elder immediately called for security, urgency cutting sharp through his usually measured tone. "Quickly, send him home and call the healers!"
Darkness. Darkness.
*Mother... Mother, where are you?*
*I'm scared, Mother. Why is there so much darkness here?*
*Mother... what should I do now?*
*Mother, I'm hungry...*
*I'm trying to talk to you, but I can't.*
*Mother... I can't move my body.*
*I miss you so much...*
*Mother, am I deaf? Why can't I hear your voice?*
*Mother... my whole body hurts so much, but I can't reach you.*
*Mother...*
*Please... pat my hair like you used to.*
*Just like before...*
He was surrounded by darkness, trapped in the smallest room, the walls pressing close enough that even in the dream he could feel their suffocating nearness against his skin. His mother wasn't there, had never been there with him in that room. It was only his imagination. Even knowing that changed nothing; some desperate, childlike part of his mind still believed she was with him and refused to let the fiction go.
He could not speak, could not hear, could not move, could not see anything at all. He could only think, and speak only inside his own mind, the silence total and absolute in every direction.
"Aaaaargh!" He woke from the dream of his previous, modern life, gasping, the sheets tangled and damp around his legs. His breath came fast, chest heaving as though he'd just surfaced from beneath deep water.
Breath. Breath. Breath.
At the sound of his cry, a new servant came rushing in, sandals slapping hurriedly against the floor outside. She looked about seventeen, the same age as Shree Yan, her medium-length hair slightly disheveled, as though she'd washed it recently and hadn't fully dried it before rushing to his side. Her name was Ying Ner.
"Young master, young master, are you okay?" she asked, kneeling quickly beside the bed, her expression frightened, her hands hovering uncertainly near his shoulder.
"Please, take this," she said, holding out a small, pale pill cradled carefully in her palm.
Shree Yan raised his hand, still trembling faintly, and took it from her.
"Young master, are you feeling better now?" There was real concern in her eyes, unguarded in a way few in this house ever allowed themselves to be around him.
Shree Yan's eyes slowly cleared, the last fog of the dream finally releasing its grip. He looked at her and said, "Ying Ner..."