I was certain… that I had died.
That was the first conclusion that formed in my mind when my consciousness returned. There was no light. No color. No shape. Only absolute darkness swallowing everything, like an endless black cloth covering my eyes—and perhaps my soul as well.
Yet, I could still feel.
Something warm surrounded me. Something soft, pulsing slowly, in rhythm with a heartbeat that felt unfamiliar yet comforting. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear—muffled sounds, distant and unclear, as if coming from beyond water.
The voices weren't in a language I knew.
And yet, somehow, I understood them.
"Are you sure everything will be okay?" a woman's voice asked anxiously.
"It will be. The doctor said this child is strong," a man replied, trying to sound calm.
I froze.
A child?
The word echoed in my mind, repeating over and over. Slowly, a terrifying realization crept in. I wasn't in heaven. I wasn't in hell. I wasn't a bodiless spirit drifting through nothingness.
I was… inside a womb.
That realization struck harder than death itself. I could feel the walls around me. Warm. Alive. That heartbeat—it wasn't mine. I was attached to it, dependent on it.
I had reincarnated.
Or maybe… I had never truly died.
Days passed without any clear sense of time. I couldn't open my eyes—or maybe I didn't even have eyes to open yet. But my hearing grew sharper. I recognized those voices. My mother's voice. My father's voice. I heard their laughter, their worries, their prayers, their hopes.
They didn't know.
That inside the womb, the consciousness of an adult man was already awake.
I couldn't do anything. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. All I could do was listen and feel. And in that endless darkness, I began to wonder… if this darkness was only temporary.
Then that day came.
An overwhelming pressure crushed my body. The sounds became chaotic. Screams, heavy breathing, and finally—light that never came.
I was born into a world that was still dark.
Crying erupted all around me. I could feel it—the cold air touching my skin for the first time. Hands lifted my small body. I opened my eyes… or at least tried to.
There was nothing.
No light.
No color.
No world.
"He… he's not crying?" someone said hesitantly.
"No… he's breathing," my mother sobbed.
I wanted to say that I was fine. That I was conscious. That I was alive. But from that tiny mouth, no words came out—only the weak cry of a newborn.
That cry made someone let out a relieved sigh.
"Thank goodness… he's alive."
I heard fabric rustle as my small body was held tighter.
"What's his name?" someone asked.
Silence followed for quite a while. I could hear deep, heavy breathing, as if someone were weighing something important.
"Chu Haoyu," he finally said.
The name echoed inside my consciousness.
Chu… Haoyu.
"Haoyu means as vast as the sky," his voice was calm but firm. "May his heart be able to contain everything."
My mother sobbed again, then let out a small laugh through her tears.
"Welcome to the world, Chu Haoyu."
I couldn't see anything.
But for the first time since the darkness had surrounded me—
I knew… I had a name.
Days turned into months. Months turned into years.
And the world… remained dark.
At first, I thought it was normal. Maybe babies just couldn't see right away. I waited. I was patient. I listened as the world shaped itself around me through sound: my father's footsteps, wood crackling in the fireplace, the wind passing through the fields.
But one year passed.
Two years.
Three years.
And the darkness never left.
I realized it when other children started running around. When they pointed at things and laughed. When people talked about the color of the sky and the shape of clouds—things that, to me, were nothing more than empty concepts.
I was blind.
Not temporarily. Not near-sighted.
Completely blind.
This world was a world of sound, touch, and scent to me. I learned to walk by counting steps. I recognized people by their breathing. I knew directions from the echoes of my own footsteps.
I was alive. But I lived without ever seeing.
I didn't hate my parents. I didn't hate the world. I simply accepted reality… until the day it changed.
The day our small village was filled with screams.
I was sitting on the ground in our yard, feeling pieces of wood with my fingers, when it began. The first scream. Panic. Footsteps running in every direction.
Then… a roar.
The sound shook the air. Low. Heavy. Savage. Something inside my chest trembled, a primal instinct screaming danger.
"A tiger! A demon tiger!"
The villagers' cries overlapped one another. I could hear people running, falling, getting back up, running again. The ground trembled under the steps of a massive creature.
I didn't move.
I didn't know where to go.
Then a voice thundered from above, filled with confidence and power.
"Don't worry. I have arrived."
A strange pressure swept through the air, making the hairs on my neck stand up. That wasn't the voice of an ordinary person.
"Immortal sir! Please help us!" the villagers shouted, their voices mixed with hope and desperation.
I could only sit there and listen.
Explosions of power echoed in the distance. I could hear the wind being torn apart, the ground being struck, and the tiger's roar now filled with rage. The sound felt… different. Closer. More real.
And suddenly—
Something changed.
I opened my eyes.
For the first time in my life… I could see.
The world didn't appear all at once. Not completely. It was as if someone were slowly pulling back a curtain, revealing a world that had slowed down.
I saw.
A massive tiger with black and gold stripes, its body wrapped in a violent aura, claws raised, energy gathering around it. Facing it was a robed man—a cultivator—floating slightly above the ground, his face tense, his hands ready to control something.
Above them…
An eye.
Gigantic. Floating in the sky.
Colored deep red, pitch black, and burning orange, as if formed from fire and blood. Its gaze pierced through everything. The sky around it darkened, as though afraid to remain bright under its watch.
"What is that…" my voice trembled. Pure fear crawled through every inch of my body.
That eye… was watching.
Not just watching the world.
But watching me.
Then, without warning, the eye vanished.
Everything began moving normally again.
The cultivator let out a low growl and swung his arm. Twelve flying swords appeared in the air, shining with sharp light, then shot toward the tiger. The tiger roared, opened its mouth, and released a unique attack—a brutal wave of energy that tore through the air.
The attacks collided.
An explosion shook the village.
I saw the cultivator being forced backward, blood spraying from his mouth. The tiger's attack pierced through his defense and struck his body. He crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
The tiger laughed—or at least, the sound coming from its throat sounded like a rough, satisfied mockery. The vibrations traveled through the ground, up my legs, shaking my bones.
It stepped forward.
One step.
Two steps.
Each step created a heavy thud, as if the earth itself bowed beneath it. A savage aura wrapped around its massive body, making the air thicker, harder to breathe.
It glanced at me.
Just a glance.
That bestial gaze swept over me like a cold wind—no emotion, no intent. I wasn't a threat. I wasn't even prey worth noticing.
It turned away.
And that was when the slaughter began.
I saw them run.
Not hear—see.
Human bodies moved chaotically, tripping over one another, faces exposed in raw terror. Hope collapsed in an instant when the tiger vanished from my sight, only to reappear among the crowd at an impossible speed.
Screams erupted.
Then were cut short.
Blood sprayed, deep red splattering across the ground, staining dust and grass alike. Bodies fell one by one, no longer moving. The sharp smell of iron pierced my nose, making my stomach churn.
Death.
It was everywhere.
I remained seated on the ground.
My legs felt numb. I didn't know if I was too afraid to move… or if I had already accepted my end.
I knew.
When this was over—I would be the last one.
Then… something trembled inside my head.
Not pain.
Not fear.
But memory.
The tiger's attack—the brutal energy wave it had released earlier—suddenly felt close. Too close. As if I had seen it before… studied it… repeated it countless times.
Even though I was sure… this was the first time I had ever seen the world.
Yet the pattern was clear in my mind.
How the energy was gathered.How it was compressed, condensed, twisted.How a single push was enough to turn it into destruction.
Without realizing it, my breathing slowed.
My hand stretched forward.
I didn't make a decision.
My body moved on its own.
And the world… responded.
The air trembled. Invisible energy gathered in my palm, spinning wildly, condensing into a pattern that was identical. The pressure made my skin feel like it was burning from the inside, my bones creaking as they endured a burden that should have been impossible.
The same.
Exactly the same.
The tiger stopped.
Its massive body twisted sharply toward me, the ground splitting beneath its claws. Its golden eyes widened, pupils shrinking—not from anger, but from disbelief.
For the first time…
I was within its gaze.
But it was already too late.
The energy exploded from my palm.
There was no roar of resistance.No time to dodge.
The wave of power slammed into the tiger's body, tearing flesh, shattering bones, and ripping apart its savage aura as if it were nothing but thin mist.
In an instant—
The massive body collapsed.
Lifeless.
Silence enveloped the village.
I staggered to my feet, gasping for breath. The hand that had been extended now trembled violently, thin blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. The world around me spun, light and shadow colliding.
My legs lost their strength.
Darkness crept back in from the edges of my vision.
I fell to the ground.