– I can’t believe the Ten Major Sects have gathered here! Hahaha!
The young man laughed loudly. Suddenly, several more people appeared before him. None of them concealed their battle intent; it was clear they were ganging up on the weak.
An old monk silently stepped forward, bowing slightly and respectfully:
– I am Thích Không, Sect Master of Bamboo Mountain Temple! I have come to recruit you, fellow daoist!
– I am Ngô Xương of the Gate of Shattered Peace! I’ve come to kill you, old devil!
– I am Ni Thủy of the Immortal Bell Sect! I’ve also come to join the fun!
Several more people stepped forward, cupping their fists in greeting, but after introducing themselves, each unleashed a burst of energy towards the young man before them.
The young man clutched his face in pain. What he feared was not those paltry bursts of energy, but the discomfort emanating from his dantian. Indeed, from his dantian, a wisp of black mist continuously swirled and wreaked havoc.
Another young man spoke arrogantly:
– Great Devil, Trần Ngạo Thiên, out of fear of death, you destroyed countless ruins and mountain ranges! Even worse, you stole the sect-guarding treasures of various sects! What do you have to say for yourself?
The young man, Trần Ngạo Thiên, stood up. He cast a strange gaze towards a beautiful female figure faintly visible at the back, but then he looked at the one who had just spoken, challenging:
– Where’s the proof?
The middle-aged man named Ngô Xương, who had been hiding in the back until now, spoke up in a loud voice.
– What are you trying to salvage here? You’re trying to avoid what your dao companion has admitted, ridiculous! This could only happen between you and your spouse.
The young man from earlier immediately drew his sword and pointed it straight at Trần Ngạo Thiên’s throat, transmitting his voice:
– You only need to hand over all the cultivation techniques and martial skills you’ve hidden, and I promise to set you free, along with your dao companion!
Trần Ngạo Thiên burst into laughter, and ignoring the blade, he advanced straight towards the young man.
Thwack...
The sword pierced his throat, and blood gushed out. Although he had spiritual energy to support him, he was already very weak. He knew that even if he resisted, he couldn’t last more than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. Moreover, his heart had already collapsed completely.
He maintained that laugh, and rasped:
– You... you... Mặc... Siêu... You... only... want... those... cultivation... techniques! I... won't... even... in death... Arghhh!
The young man, Mặc Siêu, coldly withdrew his sword. Trần Ngạo Thiên staggered backward, his eyes filled with hatred as he glared at those sneering before him, his eyes continuously turning bloodshot, finally resting on the beautiful young woman from earlier, his dao companion.
He tried to clench his hand, regretfully:
– Kim... Tử!
His vision faded, and he officially died, ending the life of a powerful expert. His divine consciousness, as if losing its anchor, plummeted.
Images flashed through his mind.
He, Trần Ngạo Thiên,
The youngest person on the continent to reach the Immortal Emperor realm.
Using his own understanding, he created nearly five hundred cultivation techniques, and was hailed as the Martial God.
Yet, today, it all ended here.
No! He refused to accept it. How could he descend to the Yellow Springs without clearing his name?
– No...ooooo!
His divine consciousness cried out in despair.
Suddenly, a golden light erupted from his body, shooting straight into the sky. Mặc Siêu saw it and immediately recoiled several steps; this golden light was truly astonishing.
Suddenly, a voice rang out, sending all of them flying backward. Mặc Siêu was no exception.
– I’m still too late, tsk tsk, it seems none of you will be spared death today!
The golden light continued to soar upwards, his divine consciousness coiling within it. Looking down at Vũ Sơn, where he once cultivated in seclusion, now gathered with over a thousand people, his heart filled with extreme indignation, he roared:
– Ahhhhhh! I, Chen Aotian, will return and slaughter all of you!
……
Jiuxiao Continent – one thousand years later.
A young man lay on a clump of reeds, his entire body covered in blood, a clear sign of his severe injuries.
-A!
Suddenly, he awoke with a start, clutching his head in pain. He blurted out countless questions:
– Where am I? Why am I here?
Within his sea of consciousness, he inadvertently received a series of strange images. As an intelligent person, he quickly grasped the situation.
– So this is the body of the Chen Family’s Ninth Young Master, which means I... ha ha ha... have been reborn!
– I never expected to have this opportunity. Thank you, predecessor!
He quickly stood up, but just as quickly discovered he was suffering from severe internal injuries. He silently cursed his predecessor; a mere Mortal, yet he dared to challenge a demonic beast. Wasn't that just seeking death?
He immediately forced himself into a cross-legged position to heal his injuries. However, just as he began to sense a trace of spiritual energy, his body seemed to undergo a change, and he spat out a large mouthful of blood. He was stunned:
– No way, even my spirit root is half-damaged like this? How am I supposed to cultivate?
But then he realized it made sense. This young man was already thirteen or fourteen years old, yet he was still languishing in the Mortal realm. With an already damaged spirit root, what else could be expected?
– Ah! Heart Grass!
He suddenly rejoiced upon seeing a strangely shaped plant beside him. He quickly bit into it and swallowed. Heart Grass was a type of herb that could temporarily treat internal injuries for cultivators. For him, at this moment, it was extremely precious.
In his previous life, he never bothered with the path of alchemy; he only focused on the martial path. He thought that was only natural. Jin Zi, his dao companion, was an Earth-tier alchemist with boundless prospects. Why would he ever lack elixirs? But now he realized, if it hadn't been for the elixir Jin Zi gave him that day, he wouldn't have been reborn; instead, he might have lived a few more years at the peak of the world.
He stretched, rotating his arms. Feeling somewhat better, he immediately sought a way to escape the forest. Dusk was falling, and this was a semi-mountain range. If he encountered a demonic beast or even a wild animal, it would be enough to send him to his grave, and they were far more active at night.
Rustle... rustle...
Chen Aotian emerged from a thick bush. He looked down towards the foot of the mountain; a somewhat familiar town appeared before his eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. He quietly entered the town. It seemed everyone was already home; the streets were now largely deserted.
He stood before a grand manor gate. On it, the two characters 'Chen Family' were clearly inscribed. As soon as he arrived, several gate guards snorted coldly, a clear indication of how lowly his predecessor's status was within the Chen Family.
He silently stepped inside. Behind him, the guards began to whisper and gossip. He paid them little mind, and quickly made his way towards the back courtyard.
Within the vast Chen Family manor, the appearance of such a small, dilapidated tent was truly unbelievable. He sighed softly and entered the tent. It was indescribably messy. Aside from a small bed, there was almost nothing else. He sat on the bed, sifting through his predecessor's memories.
His predecessor was also named Chen Aotian. He was the Chen Family's Ninth Young Master, but that title was lost when he suffered a blow from his fiancée, his spirit root completely destroyed, returning him to the status of an ordinary Mortal.
He clenched his fists. He never expected to be reborn into the body of a cripple. He felt it was an insult to the pride of a mighty expert.
But he had to accept his fate. He once again sat cross-legged, and entered his sea of consciousness.
He delved deeper, and a stream of light startled him again—or rather, two streams: one platinum, the other golden. He reached out and lightly touched the platinum stream, only to be immediately thrown back by a powerful force. But then he discovered the golden stream was much gentler, and to his surprise, his spirit root was gradually recovering.
He chuckled softly to himself. Wasn't he holding a treasure right within his mind sea? Before he could even fully revel in his joy, he was immediately pulled out of his subconscious by a familiar voice calling out:
"Thiên Nhi, you're back?"