The scent of iron and damp earth hung heavy over the mountain pass. Song Hui stood among the fallen bandits, his breathing steady despite the shallow capacity of his new, malnourished lungs. He didn't look like a man who had just taken lives; he looked like a gardener who had finished a particularly tedious chore.
He glanced at the carriage. The wooden frame was splintered, and the fine silk curtains were dusted with the debris of the skirmish.
Inside, Xian Gu sat frozen. She was the Young Lady of the Gu Clan, a girl whose life was now inextricably linked to his by the writhing parasite in his chest. She stared at him—not at the servant who used to stutter and keep his head bowed, but at a man whose eyes now held the depth of a thousand-year-old glacier.
"Song Hui?" her voice trembled, barely a whisper. "What… what was that?"
Song Hui didn't answer immediately. He flicked the stolen blade, clearing the blood from the steel before sliding it into a discarded sheath. The memories of the previous Song Hui flickered—a desperate, pathetic devotion to this girl that bordered on worship. He suppressed the impulse with the cold iron of his original soul.
"The guards are dead, Young Lady," Song Hui said, his voice flat. "If we stay here, the scent of blood will draw more than just bandits."
"You… you killed them. All of them," she stammered, stepping out of the carriage. She looked at the bodies, then back at him, her face pale. "You've never even held a sword. How?"
Song Hui turned his gaze toward her. For a moment, Xian Gu felt the world around her go silent. The terror of the raid was replaced by a strange, tranquil resonance that made her heart settle. It was a fragment of the Verdant Sword Sovereign's presence—the man who once calmed entire galaxies with a thought.
"Survival is a potent teacher," he replied simply. "Get back in the carriage. I will drive."
The carriage creaked along the winding forest road. Song Hui sat on the driver's bench, the reins held loosely in his calloused hands. Internally, he was examining the wreckage of his new body.
'Clogged meridians, a fractured Dantian, and this... Heart Parasite,' he thought, feeling the subtle, rhythmic throb of the organism feeding on his heartbeat. 'How ironic. In my last life, I died as a shield for all living things. In this one, I am chained to a single life just to keep my own.'
He looked out at the rolling hills and the dimming sky.
'So this is the Mortal Realm,' he mused. 'A place where the air is thin and the Qi is stagnant. It is a far cry from the Sacred Realm, yet there is a certain... honesty in this fragility.'
The small window behind him slid open. Xian Gu's face appeared, her expression a mix of confusion and a newfound, hesitant respect.
"Song Hui," she started, her voice barely audible over the wheels. "When we reach the estate... my father and the Elders will ask questions. A servant slaying a dozen Crimson-Blade bandits is a miracle they won't believe."
"Then tell them the truth," Song Hui said without looking back. "Tell them the bandits were arrogant, and I was lucky."
"Luck doesn't shatter a man's windpipe with a finger-strike," she countered, her eyes narrowing. "You're different. You don't speak like you used to. You don't even look at me the same way."
Song Hui's grip on the reins tightened slightly. His Myriad Life Nerve, even in this weakened state, sensed her agitation. In his past life, he would have comforted her, offering a word of divine peace. But here, he had to be careful.
"Fear has a way of changing a man, Young Lady," he said, his voice cold and final. "Perhaps I simply decided I didn't want to die today."
Xian Gu went silent. She closed the window, but she couldn't stop watching his silhouette against the gathering twilight.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the fortified walls of the Gu Clan estate came into view. To the world, it was a seat of power. To the soul of a Sovereign, it looked like a cage built of wood and stone.
The heavy iron gates groaned open. Guards rushed forward, seeing the battered state of the carriage.
"Young Lady! What happened?" a senior disciple shouted, reaching for the door.
Song Hui jumped down from the bench. He didn't wait for permission. He didn't bow. He simply stood by as the chaos unfolded, his eyes scanning the courtyard. He felt the "malice" hidden beneath the polished floors—the greed of the Elders, the shallow arrogance of the disciples. It was the same rot he had seen in the Sacred Realm.
A man in ornate robes—Gu Jian, the head of the clan—marched into the courtyard. His eyes landed on his daughter, then shifted to the blood-stained servant standing near her.
"Explain this," Gu Jian commanded, his aura of a Mid-Tier Cultivator flaring to intimidate the help.
Song Hui didn't flinch. He didn't even acknowledge the pressure. He simply wiped a smudge of dried blood from his sleeve, his posture radiating a calm that shouldn't belong to a servant.
"The guards failed," Song Hui said, his voice ringing clearly through the silent courtyard. "The Young Lady is safe. Beyond that, I require a room and clean water."
The courtyard went silent. A servant had just made a demand of the Clan Head.
Song Hui felt the Heart Parasite twitch in his chest, a sharp reminder of his chains. He looked up at the stars, where the constellations were different from the ones he knew.
'The True Dao is a long road,' he thought, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. 'And I've only just taken the first step.'