A mortal fisherman was rowing his small, weathered boat as usual when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shiny glinting far away on the water.
An instinct he couldn't explain urged him to see what the mysterious shimmer was, as if it were calling him. Heart quickening, he rowed faster, the oars slicing through the gentle waves, eager to reach it.
And what he saw shocked him beyond belief.
This man was not fated to be a cultivator, yet he was once a direct descendant of an immortal clan. But because his fate was to live only as a mortal incapable of cultivation, he had been cast into the lower realm by his own clan.
Still, his origins left him with knowledge far beyond ordinary mortals. He could recognize and understand spirit herbs in ways no one in the lower realm could, a skill carried from the upper realm where he once belonged.
And now, the shiny object floating before him in this ordinary river was nothing short of a legend. A heaven-defying spiritual herb.
Samsara Rebirth Lotus.
A legendary spiritual medicine said to come from the fabled domain of the River of Netherworld, a place only souls were allowed to enter.
And it was floating right there, in front of him.
He immediately picked it up carefully and, without thinking, consumed it, eating it raw as if it were the most delicious food in the whole world. The taste was strange yet intoxicating, like the essence of life itself swirling on his tongue.
This moment meant everything to him. A new life, a new path, a new fate, and maybe… finally, a chance to cultivate and aim for the top! The river around him seemed to hush, as if the world itself was holding its breath with him.
Just the way he had always been wishing for.
And true to its name, the Samsara Rebirth Lotus, after being consumed… his body began to glow. A soft, golden light seeped from his chest, spreading outward like morning sunlight brushing over still waters. It was not dazzling or violent, but warm, alive, and undeniably real.
Nothing ordinary, exactly as the book had described. Every fiber of his being seemed to stir, as if awakening from a deep, eternal sleep. Rebirth had begun.
Then, suddenly, a violent force tore his soul from his body! The sensation was hellish, unbearable, a pain so intense it made him wish he could die. It felt as if every fiber of his being was being ripped apart and remolded, as if his soul itself was being forced to fit into a new vessel.
The agony repeated, over and over, until finally his soul settled into a body that matched it perfectly—a seventeen-year-old man.
He gasped violently, choking on bile, and vomited the moment he fully entered the body, collapsing to the floor, every nerve screaming from the ordeal.
But before he could even process what was happening, his eyes flicked to the mirror beside him—and froze.
A wave of cold dread slammed into him, making his chest tighten and his stomach churn. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and a strangled gasp caught in his throat.
"T-this…"
FENG YAO!!!
The name left his lips like a whisper of horror. He knew this face far too well. Everyone in both the lower and higher realms knew it.
A mistake of heaven. A demon straight from hell. The worst person alive. A true villain.
Panic clawed at his mind. His heart pounded like a war drum, every instinct screaming that this was impossible, that this could not be happening. And yet… he was him now.
"FUCK!!! FUCK!!!! FUCKKKKK!!!!!"
Panic surged through his entire body, every nerve screaming, every muscle trembling uncontrollably. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and his mind raced in a chaotic spiral.
According to what his elder had told him, this man had died an excruciating death, ambushed by all the immortals. The thought clawed at him, making his stomach twist and his chest tighten. Fear wrapped around him like a suffocating shroud, threatening to drown him in sheer terror.
He forced himself to take a shaky breath, trying to anchor his mind. "At least… this man is said to be a genius…" he muttered, desperate to cling to something, to find a spark of hope amidst the horror. He tried to see the brighter side, to calm the storm raging in him.
And then he noticed. Seventeen years old. That was it. This man… had only just reached seventeen. According to the records, he had died at eight hundred. He hadn't realized it before because the posters of Feng Yao in his previous clan had looked exactly like this. He hadn't aged a single day in eight hundred years.
A manic, wild laughter burst from him. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I CAN JUST CHANGE MY FATE THEN!"