"Rest assured, my disciple," the voice said, its tone carrying a strange mix of pride and inevitability. "I will teach you everything I know and pass on to you my inheritance."
Scarlett did not immediately respond.
She remained where she was for several breaths longer, kneeling on damp grass beside the pond. Her body still trembled faintly, not from fear this time, but from exhaustion so deep it reached her bones. The water behind her was calm now, as if it had never tried to drown her under unbearable pressure.
"The whole continent trembles at the mention of my name," the voice continued, unabashed. "And one day, you will have that same fear and reverence attached to yours."
Scarlett felt her lips twitch before she could stop it.
Trembles, huh.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, mostly out of self-preservation. If this so-called master could crush her into paste with a thought, mocking her openly seemed unwise. Still, in her head, she couldn't help but sigh.
This woman really loved herself.
How many times had she mentioned continents trembling already? Twice? Three times? Scarlett had lost count somewhere between nearly dying and being forcibly remade from the inside out. If self-praise were a cultivation method, this master would already be standing at the peak of all realms.
And fear and reverence? That combination alone sounded exhausting.
Scarlett had met enough powerful people in her previous life to recognize the type. Those who truly carried weight rarely needed to announce it. Their presence spoke for them. Their reputation followed quietly, uninvited. Anyone who had to constantly remind others of how terrifying they were either enjoyed the drama… or had been alone for far too long.
Probably both.
Still, she couldn't deny one thing.
For all the arrogance, the results were undeniable. Whatever this woman had been in life—empress, tyrant, saint, or calamity—she had power. Real power. The kind that rewrote bodies, shattered limits, and treated death like an inconvenience.
Scarlett exhaled softly.
Fine. Let her boast.
If surviving this world meant inheriting the legacy of an egotistical, overpowered lunatic, then so be it.
At least narcissism was easier to deal with than incompetence.
Scarlett let out a slow breath and eased herself down until she was sitting on the grass, legs stretched forward. Her movements were careful, almost reverent toward her own body, as if she were testing a newly forged weapon she did not yet trust.
She felt… light.
Too light.
Not weak—no, that wasn't it. It was as if something heavy had been carved out of her, removed completely, leaving behind clarity instead of emptiness. Her breathing felt smoother. Her thoughts were sharper. Even her senses seemed cleaner, as though a fog she had lived with unknowingly had finally lifted.
She flexed her fingers, watching the way her skin caught the light.
So this was what purification felt like.
Her lips curved into a faint smile.
At least it was worth the pain, she thought dryly.
"You're feeling the aftereffects of the cleansing," the voice said, almost indulgent. "Impurities expelled. Body refined. Meridian paths reforged."
Scarlett leaned back slightly, resting her palms on the grass behind her. The ground felt real beneath her hands, solid and grounding—something she desperately needed after everything she had endured.
"So," she said, her voice hoarse but steady, "you tortured me, nearly killed me several times, and now you're saying it was all… housekeeping?"
The voice laughed. "When you put it that way, it sounds ungrateful."
She snorted quietly but did not argue.
There was a pause—short, but noticeable. When the voice spoke again, the mirth had faded, replaced by something sharper.
"Listen carefully, Scarlett," it said. "My divine power is running out."
That wiped the humor from her face instantly.
She straightened, instinctively alert.
"I will give you what information I can," the voice continued, slower now, more deliberate. "The rest, you will uncover on your own. Whether you survive long enough to do so will depend entirely on you."
Scarlett's fingers curled slightly into the grass.
Of course it would.
"I've repaired your bone marrow and rebuilt your meridians from the foundation up," the voice went on. "Your body is already absorbing ambient mana instinctively. Even now, you are cultivating without realizing it."
Scarlett closed her eyes briefly, focusing inward.
It was true.
There was a subtle pull inside her, like a quiet tide drawing energy toward her core. It wasn't aggressive or overwhelming—just persistent, natural, as if her body finally remembered how to breathe mana.
"Your previous mana core," the voice continued, "was beyond repair. Fire-aspected, mediocre grade, riddled with poison and damage. Your former cultivation has been completely destroyed."
Scarlett nodded slowly.
She had expected that.
"Which means," the voice said, and here it paused just long enough to be deliberate, "you will be starting from scratch."
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
That, too, was expected.
"But," the voice added, satisfaction clear even without a visible face, "this time, you will start properly."
Scarlett opened her eyes.
She didn't speak.
She had read enough stories—lived enough lives—to know when a turning point was coming. Interrupting now would only be a mistake.
The voice hummed, clearly pleased by her restraint.
"Cultivating from the beginning is not necessarily a disadvantage," it said. "Most cultivators cling desperately to what they already have, even when it limits them. In your case, starting anew is not merely beneficial—it is ideal."
Scarlett's gaze sharpened.
"I've examined your constitution," the voice continued. "Your body is… interesting. Rare, even by the standards of the First Continent."
Her heart skipped once.
Not fear.
Anticipation.
"Your mana core," the voice said slowly, savoring the moment, "is a five-color constitution."
The world seemed to tilt.
Scarlett sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop herself.
"Five?" she repeated, disbelief cutting through her usual composure.
Even in her borrowed memories, even in the scraps of cultivation knowledge Scarlett had absorbed, that number didn't make sense.
"Three is supposed to be the highest level of compatibility," she said, frowning. "Dual cores are rare. Triple affinity is considered monstrous talent."
She looked down at her hands.
"Five… shouldn't even be possible."
The voice scoffed loudly. "A frog in a well."
Scarlett stiffened.
"In this backward, low-quality continent you call home," the voice went on bluntly, "three affinities are considered heaven-defying. But in the First Continent? Five-color constitutions are uncommon, not impossible."
Cold sweat trickled down Scarlett's spine.
The First Continent.
The place this so-called Queen Venerated came from.
If five affinities were merely uncommon there…
"What exactly," Scarlett asked slowly, "have I gotten myself into?"
The voice chuckled.
"Hehehe… are you scared?"
Scarlett didn't answer immediately.
She stared at the pond, watching her reflection ripple across its surface. The girl staring back at her looked fragile—thin, young, still bearing the marks of suffering. Yet beneath that was something else now, something newly forged and unfamiliar.
Fear crept in, yes.
But it wasn't paralyzing.
It was… sharp.
Clarifying.
"I'd be stupid not to be," she said finally. "But fear doesn't mean regret."
The laughter softened, losing its edge.
"Good," the voice said. "Fear keeps you alive."
It paused.
"Now listen carefully."