Chapter 1: Awakening in the Wrong World
The last thing the original Mo Bei felt was cold. Not the winter chill of Qing Mao Mountain, but the absolute zero of a primeval stone shattering inside his aperture during a botched cultivation session. His meridians froze, then burst. The academy healers found him three hours later, already stiff.
I inherited those final moments. The memory sits in my skull like a shard of ice.
My eyes stay shut. The morning light pressing against my eyelids tells me it's dawn, but I don't move. My breathing stays measured—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Four counts each. The body I'm wearing has muscle memory; it knows how to meditate even if the previous owner killed himself trying to advance too quickly.
Stupid. Greedy. Dead.
The thought arrives in my voice, but it's not entirely mine. Something else speaks in my head now.
"Host consciousness transfer confirmed. Spiritual density analysis: 94.7% match with recorded Reverend Insanity source material. World designation: Gu World. Threat level: Extreme."
The voice has no inflection. Pure data, delivered with mechanical precision. I don't flinch. My hands, resting on my knees in meditation posture, don't shake.
"Identify yourself," I think.
"Designation: Great Sage. Function: Analytical computation and strategic optimization. Current accuracy baseline: 52%. Void Stability: 100%. Warning: Host knowledge of world mechanics classified as meta-narrative advantage. Recommend immediate operational security protocols."
Great Sage. One of three powers I absorbed during my time in the Void—that endless gray space between worlds where I spent what felt like years but might have been seconds. The Void doesn't care about time. It cares about breaking you down until you're nothing, or hardening you into something new.
I got the latter. Barely.
"Run full diagnostic," I think. "Confirm location, date, and host body status."
"Processing. Location: Gu Yue Clan Academy, Eastern Dormitory, Third Floor. Current date: Three months before Flower Wine Monk inheritance opens. Host body: Gu Yue Mo Bei, age sixteen, C-grade talent. Cultivation: Rank 1, 43% essence capacity. Physical condition: Recovered from meridian damage, permanent cultivation speed reduction by 15%. Social standing: Unremarkable. Family expectations: Low."
The data streams through my mind without overwhelming it. Great Sage isn't just an AI; it's woven into my soul now. Every calculation it runs, I understand. Every probability it generates, I feel the logic behind.
Three hours pass.
I track time by the changing light against my eyelids and the sounds filtering through the dormitory. Footsteps in the hallway. Someone coughing two rooms over. The morning bell hasn't rung yet, which means I have maybe twenty minutes before I have to interact with anyone.
"Recommendation: Open eyes. Begin identity confirmation process. Current inaction extends risk window."
Great Sage is right, but I needed the time. Needed to feel this body, understand its limits. The original Mo Bei was desperate—average talent in a world where talent means everything, family that saw him as a failed investment, no resources to change his trajectory. So he tried to force a breakthrough using a technique beyond his comprehension.
The primeval stone detonation didn't just kill him. It left me with a body that will always cultivate slower than it should.
Perfect camouflage, I think. No one expects a cripple to matter.
I open my eyes.
The dormitory is small. Six sleeping mats arranged along the walls, basic Gu storage boxes at the foot of each. Mine is in the corner—worst position, furthest from the window. The mat is old, patched in three places. The storage box has a clan mark burned into the wood, but the lock is cheap iron instead of a formation.
Everything here screams "expendable."
I stand. My legs cooperate without trembling. The original Mo Bei was fit enough; he wasn't lazy, just limited. I cross to the small mirror mounted on the wall—polished bronze, barely reflective.
The face looking back is mine now. Sixteen, average features, the kind you'd forget five minutes after meeting. Black hair pulled into a simple tail. Eyes that could be called intense if anyone bothered to look, but they won't. In this world, you need power or beauty to be noticed. I have neither.
"Cataloging dormitory contents," Great Sage announces. "Gu storage box contains: Moonlight Gu (Rank 1, common, 87% vitality), Liquor Worm (Rank 1, consumed—empty shell), two primeval stones (low grade). Correspondence from family located in storage—seven letters, none opened. Cultivation mat shows wear pattern consistent with disciplined but ineffective training."
I don't touch the letters. Whatever the original Mo Bei's family wrote, it won't help me now. Instead, I open the storage box and examine the Moonlight Gu.
It's a small worm, pale white, glowing faintly. Sluggish. The original Mo Bei barely fed it—primeval stones are expensive when you're poor, and this Gu is nearly useless for combat. It provides weak illumination and slightly enhances night vision. That's it.
But it's alive. That means I can use it.
"Shadow Clone technique ready for first deployment?" I think.
"Negative. Recommend 48-hour delay. Host essence reserves at 57% after overnight recovery. Clone creation requires 65% minimum for safe deployment. Additionally, host should establish baseline behavioral patterns before introducing anomalous activities. Risk of detection increases proportionally with unexplained capabilities."
Smart. I need to be the same mediocre student everyone expects for at least a few days. Build a mask before I start using the powers that could get me killed.
The morning bell rings. Seven sharp strikes of bronze against bronze, echoing across the academy grounds.
My dormitory mates start stirring. I close the storage box and sit back on my mat, adopting the posture of someone who's been meditating since before dawn. It's not entirely a lie.
Four others share this room. I know their names from the original Mo Bei's memories, but none of them matter. Three are similar to me—mediocre talent, modest families, destined for minor clan positions if they survive their twenties. The fourth, Gu Yue Chen Bo, has B-grade talent and won't shut up about it.
"Still wasting time on meditation?" Chen Bo stretches, his joints popping. "You'd advance faster if you focused on practical Gu techniques instead of sitting like a statue."
I don't respond. The original Mo Bei would have argued. I let the silence do the work.
"Suit yourself." He pulls on his academy robes—nicer than mine, better material. "Don't blame me when you're still Rank 1 at twenty."
He leaves. The others follow. I wait until the dormitory is empty, then change into my own academy robes. They're worn at the elbows and hem, but clean. The original Mo Bei had some pride left.
The academy grounds sprawl across three li of Qing Mao Mountain's eastern slope. Stone buildings arranged in careful hierarchy—elders' halls at the peak, student dormitories at the base. Everything built to remind you of your place.
I join the stream of students heading toward the main assembly hall. Morning announcements are mandatory, which means this is where I'll see him.
Fang Yuan.
"Target detected. Distance: forty-seven meters. Identity confirmed: Fang Yuan, age sixteen, stated cultivation Rank 1. Warning: Behavioral patterns inconsistent with background data. Footwork analysis suggests minimum three years advanced combat experience. Probability of meta-narrative knowledge: 67.3%. Threat assessment: MAXIMUM. Recommend observation priority increase to absolute."
My stomach drops, but my face doesn't change.
He's walking through the crowd twenty meters ahead. Not pushing, not rushing, just... moving. Everyone parts for him without realizing it. His eyes—ancient eyes in a young face—sweep across the students like he's cataloging assets and threats.
Those eyes pass over me. One second. Less.
He sees nothing worth noting.
Good.
The assembly hall fills. Five hundred students, arranged by talent rank. I end up in the back third, surrounded by other C-grades and failures. Fang Yuan stands in the front with the A-grades and prodigies, but he doesn't participate in their posturing. He just waits.
An elder drones through announcements. New Gu available for merit exchange. Upcoming monthly competition. Reminder about curfew violations. I don't listen to the words. I watch Fang Yuan.
"Behavioral analysis: Subject demonstrates micro-expressions inconsistent with stated emotional state. When elder mentions Flower Wine Monk inheritance, subject's pupils dilate 2.3 millimeters. Heart rate estimated increase of 8-12 beats per minute based on neck pulse observation. Conclusion: Subject has pre-existing knowledge of inheritance value and is suppressing excitement."
He knows what's coming. Of course he does. The Spring Autumn Cicada gave him five hundred years of memories before sending him back to this point in time. He's done this all before—probably hundreds of times—and he's going to do it perfectly.
I'm an NPC in his story. A background student who doesn't even have a name in the original novel.
The assembly ends. Students disperse to morning classes. I have formation basics in thirty minutes, which means I have time to find a quiet corner and think.
The academy library is always empty this early. I claim a table in the back and pull random texts on Gu theory, making it look like I'm studying. Great Sage catalogs the information automatically, but my real focus is internal.
"Strategic assessment," I think. "Survival probability given current parameters."
"Calculating. Variables: Host meta-knowledge of canon events, three Void powers with unknown upper limits, Fang Yuan's presence as primary threat and timeline anchor. Baseline survival past six months: 34.7%. Contributing factors to mortality: Clan war with Bai Clan (87% casualty rate), inheritance ground dangers (73% fatality rate for unprepared students), Fang Yuan's ruthless elimination of variables (12% probability host becomes threat worth removing)."
Thirty-four percent. Better than I expected, worse than I hoped.
"How do I improve that?"
"Recommendation hierarchy: One, maintain unremarkable status to avoid Fang Yuan's attention. Two, develop clone network for intelligence gathering without personal risk. Three, leverage Return by Death for information advantage while minimizing Void Stability loss. Four, identify and acquire resources Fang Yuan will overlook. Five, evacuate before clan destruction event."
Five steps. Sounds simple when Great Sage lists it like a grocery run.
"Display current power status."
"Great Sage: Baseline accuracy 52%, improving with data accumulation. Current functions: Probability calculation, pattern recognition, memory storage. Limitation: Cannot reliably predict Fang Yuan due to insufficient variable data. Shadow Clone: One clone possible at host's current cultivation. Duration: 2-3 hours. Essence cost: 65%. Clone capability: 60% of host baseline. Warning: Clone death results in 15% Void Stability penalty and intense phantom pain. Return by Death: Activates automatically upon host death. Reset point: 1-3 days prior to death, unconsciously determined. Cost: 25% Void Stability per death. Critical: Dying twice in same reset cycle risks permanent soul damage."
Three powers that could save my life or destroy it. I need to test them carefully, systematically. But first, I need to survive today.
The formation class is exactly as boring as expected. Instructor Mo Chen demonstrates basic defensive formations while students copy the patterns onto practice stones. I complete mine adequately—not impressive, not failing. Just... there.
Fang Yuan sits three rows ahead. His formation is perfect in half the time everyone else needs, but he waits until the average student finishes before submitting his work. Making sure he's good but not impossibly so.
He's hiding too, I realize. We're both pretending to be less than we are.
The difference is, his power is real and growing. Mine is borrowed from the Void and falling apart every time I use it.
After class, I return to the dormitory and lock the door. Time to test something.
I sit cross-legged and focus on my primeval essence. It responds sluggishly—the meridian damage makes everything harder—but it responds. I guide the energy according to the knowledge the Void gave me, feeling for the technique that should create a clone.
"Warning: Essence reserves at 58%. Clone creation requires 65% minimum. Attempting now risks cultivation deviation."
I stop. Great Sage is right. Pushing too hard got the original Mo Bei killed, and I won't make his mistakes.
Tomorrow. I'll try tomorrow after a full night's cultivation recovery.
The sun sets. Dormitory mates return, complaining about classes and bragging about Gu techniques. I lie on my mat and stare at the ceiling, letting their voices fade into background noise.
Somewhere out there, Fang Yuan is planning his path to immortality. He'll massacre clans, betray allies, and reshape the world to serve his ambition.
And I'm here, a background character with broken powers and thirty-four percent odds.
"Quest log updated," Great Sage announces. "Quest: Survive First Month. Progress: 1 of 30 days. Current survival probability: 34.7%. Recommendation: Rest and recover essence. Tomorrow begins operational phase."
I close my eyes. The darkness behind my eyelids is nothing like the Void, but it's close enough to remind me.
I died once already, in my old world. Transmigrated here with powers I barely understand. I'm going to die again—probably many times—before this is over.
But each death will teach me something. Each reset will make me sharper.
Fang Yuan has his five hundred years of experience.
I have something he doesn't: the ability to start over when I fail, and a mind that turns fear into data.
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