Sylvan was dying.

It was a hard truth to swallow for a man at the peak of creation, but time caught up to all, even quasi-immortals. His hair fluttered in the celestial winds that carried the natural laws as his eyes gazed into the swirling abyss below.

He may have lived for as many years as there were stars in the cosmos and seen the rise and fall of divine kingdoms, but his soul had long eroded away.

His eyes were dull and unfocused, his thoughts distant, and his memories fragmented and forgotten. Strangely, only his memories of a world called Earth, which he had lived on for a few decades before he was whisked away to a realm of cultivation and immortals, remained in his fractured mind.

Sylvan sighed. He had only ascended this far in hopes of gaining enough power to cross the primordial sea and return to Earth, but his human body, without any bloodline, had failed him. He was unable to advance further with this vessel. He may stand as a body of flesh and golden blood, and one of his thousands of descendants may seize his hand and feel the warmth of human flesh. But he simply wasn't there. He was a shadow of his former self—a soulless husk.

"Today is as pleasant as any to die," Sylvan said dryly as he gazed at the many floating islands over the abyss. Home to the other immortal families that resided in this perfect realm, where everything was always beautiful, pleasant... and so tiresome.

Up here, the cultivators would spend centuries sitting in place, comprehending the heavenly laws. The few fleeting moments they dared to spend away from their meditation, they wasted on extravagant parties where the youth of the immortal families would duel it out to honor their Elders.

Sylvan was tired of it all. After failing to reach the Pinnacle of Eternity, his soul was forever crippled. Knowing his death was inevitable, he had slowly lost his way.

He put one foot forward, off the side. It dangled there, with only the celestial winds between him and being ripped apart by the abyss that separated the realms.

Of course, as a being in the Transcendent Immortal Realm, he should be able to phase through the abyss whenever he pleased, but that was in the distant past. With his soul so eroded, his Qi was dormant and unmoving. His strengthened flesh would serve as his only defense against the void.

If he took another step, he would perish. That much was certain.

With his foot still dangling over the void, he reached over to his right hand and slowly pulled a rather unassuming golden ring free from his gnarled fingers.

Compared to the other rings that adorned his fingers, which were expensive relics, defensive artifacts, or spatial rings studded with jewels from mystical realms, the golden ring was dented and cheap-looking.

It was the one thing that he had kept from Earth. Everything, including the clothes on his back, had been stripped during the transmigration, but this golden ring left to him by his mother before he was even born was all that had remained.

He had spent centuries cultivating while holding the ring, desperately searching for answers. Why had he been stripped away from his family and life on Earth and sent to this land of crazed young masters and immortals? Was there some evil god he had angered in a past life? If so, was there a way he could apologize and be freed from this nightmare?

Living forever sounded fun at first, but after centuries of sitting in dusty caves and comprehending heaven's whispers, all he wished was to return to live a shorter but more interesting life on Earth.

"Ancestor!"

Sylvan pocketed the golden ring and slowly turned his head to see an ethereal beauty. Her red hair flowed like living flames down her back, and her fiery eyes widened as she noticed his dangling foot.

"What is it—" Sylvan paused and frowned when he came up short. The name of this person escaped him.

She was most certainly one of his descendants. However, with everyone looking to be around their mid-twenties, it was almost impossible to remember this woman's name or even what generation she belonged to. Of course, if his memory was still intact, identification might have been a little easier.

The woman in question seemed unperturbed as she strode up the small hillside and hugged him from behind with such force that he almost lost his balance and fell into the abyss. A few loose rocks on the cliff face weren't so lucky and tumbled into the darkness below.

"Ancestor, how could you forget my name? I'm your daughter..." She was a head shorter than Sylvan, so her words were muffled as she buried her face into his back, "It's me, Aria."

Sylvan searched his fractured mind but drew a blank. There was simply nothing there. His mind felt as empty as the void below.

"I'm sorry, Aria, my memory has gone," Sylvan said wistfully, "I do not remember you, or anyone for that matter. Only the memories of my distant past remain."

There was a muffled sob as Aria cried into his robes.

Sylvan debated turning and hugging the woman who was no better than a stranger to him but became confused when Aria's sobs turned to laughter.

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"Aria? Why do you laugh at this old man's misfortune—" A sudden searing pain shot through his body, making him gasp and cough blood.

Sylvan looked down at the blood-tipped sword poking out of his chest in total shock and stumbled back as the blade was ruthlessly pulled out. His pristine white robes began to dye gold—he reached up and felt the dampness of the rob as his body turned cold.

"Aria... why?" Sylvan gasped out as he turned around while grasping his hand over the bloodied wound—Aria kneed him in the stomach, sending him flying back and off the edge—she caught him. Their hands interlocked as she gripped his wrist.

"Ancestor, with all due respect, the other families mock us behind closed doors. They say we are led by a blind and deaf fool on King Yama's doorstep." Aria grinned, "The other Elders are too busy squabbling about other useless things to see the root of the issue—you. So, I will do something about it. It's about time you moved on Ancestor—for the good of our family."

Sylvan's eyes widened as Aria swung her sword upwards so fast the shimmering blade was nothing but a blur and cleanly sliced through his cultivated flesh and freed his hand from his arm.

Golden blood splashed on Aria's cheek. She looked at him with a hint of disgust as she held his detached hand.

"Foolish child, to strike down your own Ansestor goes against the heavenly laws!" Sylvan roared as his lungs filled with blood, and he fell into the abyss below, "You will be punished in a way you could never expect! Karma comes for us all!"

He had planned to depart from this life on his own terms, but his own descendant—blinded by greed—had slain the Ancestor… for what?

Sylvan soon got his answer as the celestial winds ran through his hair, and he plummeted to his demise. He saw Aria tearing off the many rings he wore that contained enough wealth to fund a divine kingdom. She then tossed his hand off the side like trash and walked away.

Gritting his teeth, Sylvan twisted his body to look down at the void encompassing his entire vision like an endless sea of swirling darkness. Sylvan clutched the golden ring in his pocket and wished to return to Earth with all his heart, and to his surprise, the heavens seemed to answer his prayer...

As if.

Something titanic in size emerged from the void. Hundreds of tentacles of darkness shot out toward him, and a thousand island-sized eyes watched him with hunger.

He was nothing but a speck of dust compared to the tentacles, but he still tried to slap them away—his arm shattered into a million pieces on contact, and his body became overwhelmed with the searing heat of a dying sun and the chilling frost of the void.

While screaming in pain, his eyes widened as one of the tentacles smashed down, caving in his chest and sending him plummeting down into a mouth that had emerged from the void.

A horrifying death soon followed...

***

The Primordial Demonic Jellyfish is a mythical rank creature, graded as such by the few quasi-immortals that survived a brief encounter with one while traversing the primordial void.

According to their recounts, while heavily sedated under mind tranquility pills to stave off the induced madness, the Primordial Demonic Jellyfish's body is a semi-translucent swirling mix of purples, reds, and blacks, with occasional sparks of hellfire dancing within. Furthermore, its size is massive, often dwarfing large ships built to carry entire sects across the void.

Its eyes, if one can call them that, are eerie glowing orbs that can hypnotize anyone who dares to look directly into them. Unlike worldly jellyfish, the gelatinous structure of its body feels like a blend of molten lava and cold void, ensuring that any physical contact is chilling and burning at once.

Luckily, scholars of the Heavenly Palace believe the Primordial Demonic Jellyfish went extinct long ago, as one hasn't been reported in eons. However, some crazed scholars theorize that they do still exist. It's just that nobody has survived an encounter with one and lived to tell the tale.

Sylvan snapped the dusty book shut and slotted it back on the shelf alongside the many other books that had clearly not been opened by their owner in a long time.

"So I have the bloodline of a Primordial Demonic Jellyfish. How bizarre." Sylvan sighed as he morphed his arm into colorless tentacles. He could control them as if they were his fingers without issue, and they could even shoot out for a few meters and grip onto things.

So far, this was about the extent of his bloodline's powers, but he knew the prowess of his bloodline would increase alongside his cultivation.

Sylvan changed his hand back to that of a young man's and wandered over to this library's only window that looked out on a sunlit courtyard. Humans dressed in servant attire tended to the flowers, brushed away the fallen leaves, and fed the rainbow-scaled fish in the small pond.

They all avoided his gaze, and the few who noticed him at the window froze up and swiftly moved out of sight.

"Clearly, the owner of this young master's body that I now inhabit was rather disliked," Sylvan mused as he stepped away from the window and sat on a hard leather chair, "If only I had any memories of this body. It would make my life a lot easier."

In fact, Sylvan would have appreciated any coherent memories. All he remembered were the moments before his death: betrayed by some red-haired woman called Aria, which made him seeth, being eaten by some void creature that was likely a Primordial Demonic Jellyfish now that he thought about it, and some vivid memories of an urban metropolis called London, from a planet called Earth. All these conflicting memories in one head made coming to a logical conclusion about his current circumstances impossible.

Massaging his temples, Sylvan also managed to pull up a few fractured memories from his long life as an immortal that lorded over creation, but other than his deep comprehension of the Dao, which had stuck with him, the names and faces of those he had met over the years were a blur. Other than Aria, who he swore on his life, he would strike down in cold blood.

"Once she's dead, I should cross the primordial void to this place called Earth. Should be an easy task with the bloodline of a void creature running through my veins." Sylvan drummed the armrest of his chair and then slapped it as he stood up. He had wasted days in this room trying to collect information from these dusty books and silently hoping some memories of this body he now inhabited would make themselves known, but no such thing had occurred.

He was alone in this unknown realm, inhabiting a nameless young master's body that was clearly hated, with the blood of a Primordial Demonic Jellyfish running through his veins.

All he had that was familiar was the golden ring in his pocket. Bringing it out, he decided to try wearing it.

[Cash Shop System initializing...]

"What the...?" Sylvan stumbled and fell back into the chair as he saw golden words dancing in his vision like some ancient text.

There was a sudden loud knock on the library's hefty wooden door.

"Young Master, are you inside?" Someone shouted. Then, after three solid knocks that sent dust swirling through the air, the man hollered through the door, "Mistress Kassandra requires your presence in the courtyard. Please come out right now!"

Sylvan cursed; now was not a good time. He waved his hands, trying to get rid of the golden words plaguing his vision, and walked over to the door while making sure to not trip over the stacks of books on the floor.