LI FENG'S POV:
Deep within the jungle, the air hung heavy with humidity, and the scent of earth and wild vegetation filled the air. In the midst of this untamed wilderness stood a crude, weather-beaten hut—a hideout for a notorious band of bandits. The surroundings were wild and chaotic, much like the men who roamed these woods. Most of them were in various states of undress, their chiseled bodies reflecting the harsh life they led, scarred from years of struggle and battle. But there was one who stood out among them.
Li Feng was shorter than the others, his frame lean and wiry, lacking the bulk that defined the typical bandit warrior. Despite his lack of muscle, there was a certain aura about him. A mischievous grin always lingered on his lips, and the swagger with which he carried himself was unmatched. His clothes were tattered, the fabric worn and torn from the countless skirmishes he had been in.
'It’s been five days since I got transmigrated into this world,’ Li Feng thought, glancing around at the raucous camp. He has fully accepted his situation. ‘That ritual... worked out quite fine.Killing over a hundred people while chanting that strange mantra: Two souls, one world; consume hundreds to get along. What did that mean? Why the need to chant two souls? Did someone else transmigrate too?'
Li Feng’s thoughts were a whirlwind, but his reflection was cut short as a familiar noise reached his ears—a brawl had started in the middle of the camp. Two men were circling each other, fists raised, while the other bandits chanted, “Beat him!! Beat him!!”
The fight escalated quickly, with one of the men—a burly, muscle-bound brute—flinging his opponent to the ground. The fallen man skidded through the dirt, crashing toward Li Feng.
Li Feng looked down at him, eyes glinting with amusement. “What are you looking at?” the man grunted, struggling to push himself up.
Li Feng smirked, his lips curling into a cocky smile. “A loser.”
The bandit’s face reddened with rage, but before he could even attempt to retaliate, Li Feng moved with lightning speed. He planted his foot firmly on the man’s head, sending him hurtling through the air several meters away.
Li feng walked towards the guy and looked at into his eye and repeated the same word the guy uttered few moments ago ."What are you looking at?"
The guy stayed mute and couldn't speak as he was felling light headed from the kick.
The surrounding bandits fell silent for a moment, watching as Li Feng casually walked away, his back straight, exuding an air of command. The onlookers quickly dispersed, a mix of awe and fear in their eyes.
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Li Feng’s thoughts, however, were elsewhere. I don’t want to live my whole life as a bandit, he mused as he walked through the camp. Maybe I should try something else. I’ve heard rumors that a single disciple of a sect that wiped out a group of bandits recently. Maybe I should apply to join a sect,for the future of my martial arts. But how will I do that?
His eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities. I’m not sure a sect would accept someone like me... A grown bandit with no formal background. I’ll need a plan. Maybe there’s a way to use my knowledge from Earth. I’m sure I can figure it out...
At twenty-one years old, Li Feng was considered a Third-rate Warrior—not particularly impressive, but not entirely without potential. In a world where power ruled everything, he knew that finding a way into a sect was his best option for survival and advancement.
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ZHANG YAN'S POV:
High atop Mystic Mountain, Zhang Yan sat on a large stone at the edge of a cliff, basking in the warm rays of the morning sun. The view from here was breathtaking: the peaks of the mountain stretched into the clouds, while below, the lush green expanse of the Mystic Sect's grounds seemed endless.
My body is that of a First-rate Warrior, Zhang Yan thought, staring out over the horizon. But I don’t know any techniques, and I can’t even hold a sword properly. How am I supposed to survive in a sect where power is the measure of respect?
Zhang Yan clenched his fists, feeling frustration well up inside him. I don’t even know how to use this body properly. How can I survive in a world like this? He stood up and paced a few steps. The pressure here is enormous. I thought I’d find strength... but all I’ve found is doubt.
After a moment, Zhang Yan shook his head, trying to shake off the negativity. Maybe I should just leave the sect. Find a quiet place, live a peaceful life, and forget about all this bloodshed. It’s not like I’m cut out for the martial world.
Taking a deep breath, Zhang Yan started walking down the mountain toward the main hall. He knew the elders were expecting him.
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MAIN HALL - DECISION TIME
The Main Hall of the Mystic Sect was quiet, its grand interior lit by soft, warm sunlight streaming in through tall windows. The sect leader, Liang Huo, and the elder who taught the sword to the disciples, Xue Zhen, sat at the large wooden table, discussing matters of the sect.
When Zhang Yan entered, Liang Huo’s face brightened, but Xue Zhen’s stern expression softened slightly as he looked up.
“So, Zhang Yan,” Liang Huo said in a calm voice, “have you made up your mind?”
Zhang Yan stepped forward, his heart pounding. He had been thinking about this moment for days. It was time to take action.
“I have,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an underlying hesitation. “Sect Leader, Elder, I have made my decision.”
Liang Huo’s eyes softened with concern, and Xue Zhen’s expression grew curious. “What decision?” Xue Zhen asked.
Zhang Yan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Can I leave the sect?”