Lin Mo woke up with his face pressed into dirt.
Not pavement.
Not stone.
Dirt. Cold. Damp. Packed hard enough that it didn't give when he tried to breathe.
He stayed still.
Moving without knowing where you were was a good way to die twice.
Voices drifted in from somewhere close.
"…still breathing?"
"So what. If he's pretending, we cut him anyway."
Lin Mo opened his eyes a fraction.
Night sky.
Two moons.
Wrong.
He was lying in a shallow clearing. Trees ringed the space, tall and dark, their leaves whispering softly. Not wind. Something else. Three figures stood nearby, their outlines broken by torchlight.
People.
Pain detonated behind his eyes before he could think further.
Memories poured in.
Not his.
A name surfaced first.
Xu Liang.
Eighteen. Outer sect disciple. Black Mountain Sect. Qi Refining—third layer, barely holding together. Hated chores. Afraid of night patrols. Owed spirit stones he didn't have to people he shouldn't have owed.
Lin Mo let the memories settle without reacting.
A familiar pressure brushed his awareness.
[Descent Successful]
Host Body: Stable
Identity Synchronization: 58%
Warning: Low Compatibility
Low compatibility.
That explained the headache.
It didn't matter. Not yet.
A boot nudged his ribs.
"Hey. Wake up."
Lin Mo let his eyelids flutter open. Slow. Confused. Not too confused. He kept his breathing shallow, uneven, the way a frightened teenager's would be.
"Senior…" he muttered. "…brothers?"
The man holding the torch relaxed a little.
"Tch. He just fainted again," he said. "I told you his cultivation was trash."
Good. That was useful.
Lin Mo remembered everything now.
Three of them. Two at the fourth layer. One at the fifth. Armed. Loose posture. They weren't expecting trouble.
They weren't here to help him.
"Get up," the fifth-layer disciple said. "You still owe us."
Of course he did.
Lin Mo pushed himself upright slowly. He let his knees shake. Let his hands tremble. Inside, he tested the body.
Qi responded.
Sluggish. Thin. Uneven.
Worse than his real body back on Earth, which said more than he liked.
"You really thought you could dodge us forever?" one of them sneered.
Lin Mo lowered his head.
"I'll pay," he said quietly. "Just… give me some time."
The fifth-layer disciple laughed. "With what? Your corpse?"
Torchlight flickered.
Something tugged faintly at Lin Mo's chest.
The mirror.
Not visible. Not solid.
But there.
Options ran through his mind and died just as quickly.
Run? No.
Talk? Useless.
Fight?
He could kill one. Maybe two.
Not all three.
Unless—
The fifth-layer disciple stepped closer.
Lin Mo moved.
He lunged forward without warning, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting—not hard enough to break it, just enough to pull him off balance. At the same time, he snapped his head backward.
Bone cracked.
The torch hit the ground.
Fire scattered.
Lin Mo dropped, scooped up a dagger, and drove it into the nearest man's thigh. Deep. Ugly. He aimed low. He wanted screaming, not death.
A fist slammed into his jaw.
White sparks filled his vision.
The third man drew his sword.
Too slow.
Lin Mo rushed him, ignoring the blade tearing into his side, and buried the dagger under the man's ribs. Hot blood spilled over his hands.
The fifth-layer disciple roared.
Qi exploded outward.
Lin Mo was lifted off his feet and thrown into a tree.
The trunk split.
Pain drowned everything.
This was it.
He wasn't walking away from this body.
Lin Mo laughed.
The sound came out wrong—wet, broken.
"What's wrong with him?" someone shouted.
Lin Mo looked at the fifth-layer disciple.
Then he stopped resisting.
Let go.
The blade slid into his throat.
Clean enough.
Darkness folded inward.
—
Earth.
Lin Mo convulsed on his apartment floor, fingers clawing at nothing as pain ripped through his soul. This death was worse. Not sharper. Longer. Like something had been torn out slowly.
He lay there shaking until the pain dulled into something survivable.
[Return Complete]
Soul Integrity: 92%
Death Classification: Prolonged Physical
Penalty Applied
Lin Mo stared at the ceiling.
He breathed.
Then he sat up.
The mirror rested against the wall, dull and unremarkable.
"One item," he murmured.
He chose spirit stones.
The mirror pulsed.
Several low-grade stones clattered onto the floor.
Not many.
Enough.
For now.
Lin Mo stood, steady despite the ache gnawing at the back of his soul.
"So," he said softly, looking at the mirror, "this world rewards aggression."
The mirror stayed silent.
Lin Mo wiped the blood from his nose.
"Fine."
He activated it again.
Next time, he wouldn't wake up owing anyone anything.