In ancient times, countless cultivators claimed to possess unparalleled power... Yet only one stood above all others.
Wang Xie Huang, the last sovereign of the Wang lineage, had attained boundless spiritual enlightenment and was on the verge of entering the realm of Nirvana.
Seated cross-legged upon the castle throne, he gazed at his companion beside him.
"I have a proposal," he said, fixing his gaze on Chen Hao, another Taoist hero.
Chen Hao furrowed his brow slightly. "Master... what do you mean?"
Wang Xiehuang's expression grew grave. "...Because of me, the balance of heaven and earth has already been tilted."
Chen Hao's heart jolted. His master, the Celestial Lord... was he really uttering such dire words?
"You are correct. Time is running out," Wang Xie Huang continued. "I sense the Earth's vital energy rapidly depleting. Without action, the world will perish within two days."
"Master... is there still a way?"
"I can restore balance through reincarnation," Wang Xie Huang said calmly. "But... you must kill me."
"Kill... you?" Chen Hao was speechless.
"It is the only way." Wang Xiehuang stepped closer, placing a hand on Chen Hao's shoulder. "Since you cannot harm me by conventional means, I'll infuse every ounce of my spiritual energy into your sword. Only then can you wound me."
Chen Hao gripped his long sword tightly, tears welling in his eyes. "If this is your wish... I shall grant it!"
Wang Xie Huang nodded. Whirlpools of spiritual energy enveloped the blade, glowing with an eerie light.
"Master, are you ready?"
"Strike!"
Chen Hao roared as he thrust his sword forward, the tip piercing Wang Xie Huang's chest. Blood gushed forth, yet Wang Xie Huang merely smiled.
"I promise... we will meet again in the future," he murmured softly.
Then... everything ended.
That year, 23 AD.
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
Thousands of years later, the world had changed beyond recognition. People lived ordinary, contented lives, utterly unaware of the ancient catastrophe that had once threatened Earth.
In an apartment on the outskirts of Cloudsea City, Lin Hua and Ling Wei gently rocked their infant.
"Look at him! Only four months old, yet so... extraordinary," Lin Hua murmured. "I thought marriage would be exhausting."
Ling Wei chuckled softly. "It certainly is, but I'm grateful to have married someone as beautiful as you~"
The infant Ling Xian opened his eyes—purple orbs sparkling with brilliance.
Today was his birthday.
Ling Wei grinned, revealing a sword. "I prepared a special gift for you—a limited edition dragon sword!"
"Really?" Lin Hua's eyes widened.
"I spent everything I had this year to get it, but it's for Ling Xian!"
Ling Xian, however, sensed something amiss. His violet eyes fluttered slightly—he perceived the truth. This sword was a fake.
Ignoring his parents' pride, he raised his small hand and flicked the blade. The sword shattered into a thousand pieces with a thunderous crash.
"I don't like it, Dad." His voice was clear and sharp.
Lin Hua and Ling Wei froze. "He... he spoke?"
Ling Wei's pride in acquiring the sword crumbled instantly. "I... I worked so hard for this sword!"
At just four months old, Ling Xian possessed astonishing spiritual power. Born with memories and strength from his past life, he mastered spells and cultivation techniques at an astonishing pace. By age six, his achievements far surpassed those of ordinary children.
To live a relatively ordinary life, Ling Xian cast a Double-Headed Needle Seal, locking away most of his power.
✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙
Time passed. At sixteen, Ling Xian gained admission to the prestigious Phoenix Ridge Cultivation Academy's Seventy-Second School—an institution with centuries of history renowned for its profound cultivation techniques.
On the first day of school, he surveyed the vast campus. Array formations shimmered in the sunlight, while a colossal statue of a legendary cultivation master stood at its center.
Students bustled about, preparing for entrance interviews. Ling Xian scanned the holographic bulletin board: Level 5 Class Divisions—Commoners Class, Apprentice Class, Proficiency Class, Genius Class (highest tier).
As he pondered the class assignments, a voice called out from behind.
"Hey! I'm lost... Can't find the interview room."
Turning, he saw a girl dressed in a pink blouse, black skirt, and knee-high socks, her posture as graceful as a model.
"The room number should be on the door," he replied curtly.
"Oh! Room 2001! Wait... we have the same interview location!" she exclaimed.
"Want to go together?" she asked.
Ling Xian remained silent. Yet his footsteps fell into step beside hers.
The modern world remained utterly unaware that a sovereign had already been reborn here.
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