I stood in front of the tall mirror, running my hands across the unfamiliar face that looked back at me. Sword-like brows, a pointed jaw, and an imperious gaze turned sinister by the heavy-set bags under my eyes. A name came to my mind—Zhao Dan. It wasn't my name, but it might as well be now.

Scratching my chin, I frowned at the smooth sensation. Letting out a deep sigh I sat back down on the wooden chair, shifting positions so the pointed backrest wasn’t digging into my spine.

A few hours earlier I had woken up in this unfamiliar room, greeted by the metallic tang of dried blood and a foul, lingering odour left by this body’s previous owner. Even though I had scrubbed the stone tiles until my hands were raw, I hadn’t been able to remove all the stubborn traces of blood and vomit. But that was the least of my problems.

I lifted up a spherical red pill, rolling it between my fingers and wondering what I would have done in Zhao Dan’s situation. I believed I had a strong will, having experienced unimaginable trauma in the worst warzones on Earth.

Torn limbs, drone strikes, children watching their parents die, and even parents holding their dead kids. That was my daily routine for the last decade, working as a doctor on the frontlines.

Originally I’d studied medicine to please my strict parents, but I’d come to love the rigorous science behind it. And eventually I also found great joy in healing others, though the brutality of war tainted that somewhat.

Even with those awful experiences under my belt, some of the memories from this young cultivator’s life made those horrors seem tame. One in particular stood out to me, a memory so evil that I wished I could erase it from my mind.

When Zhao Dan was just three years old, his father forced him to execute a mortal servant for the simple crime of forgetting to wash one of his robes. From a young age, he’d been steeped in brutal violence and forced to crush any compassion in his heart.

I couldn’t imagine what being raised by such a tyrant would do to my own psyche. My parents were heavy handed, but the worst punishment I could expect was a spanking for a poor grade at school.

In my case, their forceful drive had led me to become one of Earth’s most decorated surgeons. It instilled ambition and a sense of purpose greater than my own existence. In Zhao Dan's case, it had forced him to become a cultivator, to gather heaven's energy and chase immortality.

He hadn't been very successful at it. If he had been, I wouldn't be here right now.

Our lives were vastly different, but I could understand the overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness that weighed down on him. In the end, he couldn’t bear it and took his own life, giving a way for my soul to take over his body. At least that was my hypothesis.

I wasn’t sure what had happened to the original Zhao Dan, but I had inherited his body. I couldn’t continue using my old name and habits, or I risked becoming an outcast.

Then again, I had already been kicked out of the Cloudy Falls Sect—something I learned reading the final page of Zhao Dan’s diary—so in many ways I already was one.

At least, it hadn't been due to some sort of a crime. He had simply been kicked due to coming last in the annual outer disciple tournament, having been stuck at fifth-star body refinement realm for three years now.

Accepting this reality was a bitter pill to swallow. My parents died years before me, though I did have an on and off relationship with one of my colleagues, Esme. I wondered if she would miss me. I missed the nights we spent together, sharing our troubles and joys.

Sighing, I got up from the uncomfortable chair and picked up the small bag which contained all of Zhao Dan’s possessions. It didn’t amount to much—a jade carving of a scholar, half a spirit stone and a few gold coins, plus his diary and cultivation notes—but leaving it behind felt like an insult to the man whose life I had stolen.

In this world, people believed in the cycle of reincarnation— that when you died, your soul would enter the six paths and be reborn anew. I whispered a silent prayer for the former Zhao Dan, hoping his next life was filled with joy, instead of the chain of suffering and torment that had led him to commit suicide in this one.

Wrapping my head around that idea was difficult. I hadn’t been religious on Earth, but then again it was hard to believe in a higher power when there’d been little evidence that one existed. It was far easier to believe in one here.

In this place, the Celestial Jade Empire, there were cultivators who could shatter mountains with a punch and walk in the sky.

When faced with the evidence, clear as day, something as trivial as reincarnation became easier to accept. I myself had transmigrated, my soul leaving Earth and arriving in this place. It would take much longer than four hours to come to terms with that, but I would have to do so elsewhere.

****

Despite my confusing situation, I hadn't been able to stay in my room for long. An outer disciple had soon come to remind me that I had to meet one of the elders by the front gate at sunrise, to be escorted to the nearby Three River City after handing in his sect token and robes.

Knowing that the sun was already out there, I had walked out of the little wooden house after collecting whatever little belongings Zhao Dan had.

As I walked, I watched the sun at its zenith, blazing down on the towering mountain peak that housed the sect. Even in this world, the sun was the same, maybe a little bigger. However, there were twin moons.

Thinking of it made a bubble of unease pop into me. I sighed, realising it was becoming a habit.

To distract myself, I tried to look through the torrent of memories to understand the culture of the Celestial Jade Empire, but it was all tinted with the depressing lens of Zhao Dan’s outlook on life.

A few steps into my journey, I felt a hand clapping me on the shoulder. Often, that meant one of the nastier disciples was about to torment Zhao Dan, but when I turned around to face the new arrival, all the tension deflated from my shoulders.

Standing at almost two metres tall, a muscular fellow stood in front of me. He wore bright red robes unlike the white ones I wore, implying that his status was of an inner disciple. His name was Wang Ren, one of the few people that treated Zhao Dan right and a friend who had started in the sect at the same time as him.

Wang Ren’s robes stood out in a sea of white on the outer sect peak. There were many memories involving this guy in Zhao Dan’s mind.

Relegated to a servant due to his poor cultivation talent, he often missed meals due to incomplete chores and barely slept five hours a night. Wang Ren would often sneak him extra food from his own portions and help him finish tasks when no one was looking.

“Senior Brother Wang Ren, what are you doing here?” I asked, offering the big man a shallow bow.

“Well, knowing how lazy and incompetent you are, I knew you would miss the Elder at sunrise. So, I came to make sure you at least got on the road before the sun sets,” he chuckled, slapping me over and over on the shoulders.

My body quivered under the big man’s strength. Not only was he taller and more muscular than Zhao Dan, but had cultivated to the first star of the Qi Gathering realm, making him a cultivator in truth. Despite him controlling his strength, the sheer difference in physique still meant each strike left a bruise.

I coughed, and he relented, striding off down the mountain with purpose in his steps. Hurrying to catch up, I looked around at the other disciples going about their day.

Some sneered at me, a final opportunity to mock the useless disciple who’d been kicked out. Most remained indifferent, giving the pair of us a wide berth.

We walked for a few minutes, with me listening and nodding as Wang Ren regaled me with tales of his adventures in the inner sect. He’d only joined a few months back, but it seemed like the level of treatment was worlds apart.

Everything in this world stemmed from one’s cultivation. Without strength, you couldn’t achieve anything. Perhaps that was why so many went to such vicious lengths to obtain resources and opportunities, killing friends and foes alike in their quest for immortality.

Wang Ren looked a little hesitant, glancing my way every now and then. Eventually he seemed to make a decision and asked me a question. “Junior Brother, what do you plan to do after being kicked out? You’re still a cultivator after all.”

Actually, I hadn’t spared much thought to my goals. I’d only been in this world for half a day. Most of that time was spent acclimating to the sudden change and my new identity.

The best way of describing it would be culture shock. In one moment I had been taken from what I was used to and thrust into a completely alien world, with new customs. Even the fundamental laws of the world were different!

Pondering the question, I knew at the very least I didn’t want to become one of those savages; indifferent to the harsh suffering I inflicted on those around me while only caring about the next step of my cultivation. A memory from college surfaced, making me smile.

If there was one thing I wanted to bring into this new life from my life on Earth, it would be my compassion for other humans. Perhaps I could try to become a doctor once more? However, I knew that cultivators relied on pills and Qi healing and doctors weren’t a common sight.

Then again, I always was an ambitious guy. Founding a new school of cultivation might be the kind of goal I needed to keep myself grounded while I adjusted to my new life.

“There was a story in my hometown,” I replied, smiling. “About a wandering healer who held himself to a strict code of conduct. An oath of sorts, to never do harm and heal the sick. He would appear on the worst battlefields and treat everyone without prejudice. People called him a coward due to his peaceful nature, but with a dagger in their chest they wished he would appear and save them.”

My eyes shined as I wove the invented tale of this healer. I was pulling inspiration from my own career on Earth and adding some lies into the mix for drama. “Unlike most kids who dream of becoming ruthless cultivators, I truly admired that healer,” I finished to a speechless Wang Ren.

After a period of silent contemplation, he eventually collected his thoughts. “It takes a strong willpower to stick to such an oath,” he replied. “Perhaps you share that healer’s peaceful nature, Junior Brother. You were always more interested in pill refinement during our classes. Though you are far from talented,” he added with a teasing smile.

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“Could you tell me that oath? I am curious,” he asked.

Recalling the college lecture where we were taught the doctor’s oath, I answered him. “I will use my power to help the sick to the best of my ability and judgement; I will abstain from harming or wronging any man by it,” I declared and as soon as I said so, a loud rumble erupted.

My face turned red as I looked towards Wang Ren, who had wide eyes that quickly returned to normal as he burst into laughter.

“Ah, Junior Brother Zhao, I apologise. I forgot what it was like to be a Low Body Tempering disciple and still need to eat every day. We should grab some breakfast on the way,” he said, scratching his temple.

Looking at Wang Ren with a sheepish expression I nodded. Some breakfast would be wonderful.

“But, Junior Brother. You should be careful saying such things out loud. For a moment I almost thought that rumble was the heavens sealing a qi oath,” he warned.

“A qi oath? What’s that?”

“They’re fairly common, but most of the time they’re just used to seal agreements and make sure allies don’t betray each other. That kind of thing,” he explained, waving a hand in dismissal.

That seemed simple enough, but with how shocked he’d seemed initially I knew there was more to it. After a few seconds he continued.

“Then again, I’ve heard stories of absurdly powerful oaths some cultivators have taken. Swearing revenge after nine generations of their clan was slaughtered, committing to overthrow a lord—that kind of thing,” he said with a serious expression.

He bit his lip, seemingly conflicted but then continued, “I’ve also heard that some of the old monsters took qi oaths that granted them better cultivation talent or mysterious physiques, but that has to be nothing more than rumours…”

I hadn’t expected something like that. It reminded me a little of a certain anime I’d watched…

Then again the way he spoke of those oaths told me they weren’t everyday occurrences. It seemed that most people just used them as a kind of contract with the heavens as a guarantor.

“Anyway, we’ve gone off track. I want to know what your goals are,” he repeated his question with a smile.

I wasn’t really sure. At my core, I was a doctor. I didn’t think I could give that up just because I’d died and started a second life in a new world, even if that world was vastly different to Earth.

This bulky senior brother of mine was quite the philosopher. But he was right. Achieving your goals is impossible without first knowing what they are.

I wasn’t sure how I could be a doctor in a world where anyone with enough control over their qi could heal brutal wounds in moments; where alchemists could brew pills that restored all ailments in a few days—but figuring that out would be half the fun

I was in a strange world, possessing an unfamiliar body, and without the support of a sect. And yet I was filled with confidence.

Hearing about qi oaths had me thinking. This new body of mine wasn’t talented in cultivation and most of my old knowledge of healing and medicine wouldn’t apply here.

Of course I could fill the gaps by reading as much as possible—this was perhaps one thing I wished I had more time in the sect to do, given the size of the library here—but that wouldn’t be enough to let me compete with cultivators.

Perhaps I could take an oath of my own. Not a paltry one like the hippocratic oath. Even that was something of a joke back on Earth—doctors weren’t actually required to take it but we learned about it regardless.

Besides, to do no harm was a tall order. I wasn’t a cruel man, but having lived at war for almost a decade I knew there were times that violence was necessary, even if the guilt and disgust became phantoms that haunted my dreams.

Following Wang Ren, we moved down a slope, reaching into one of the lower peaks. The whole sect had different buildings at different places with the sect leader abode at the very top.

We changed directions, moving off the path that led to the sect gates. A brief detour to the culinary pavilion brought bad memories of Zhao Dan’s floating to the surface.

It was a prime spot for bullies to pick on the weak, when they were at their most vulnerable. However, with Wang Ren there most of my former tormentors only glared mockingly at the sect reject and didn’t dare make a move.

After grabbing two bowls filled to the brim with spirit rice and steamed vegetables, we resumed our journey.

“I thought you didn’t need to eat, Senior Brother Wang?” I asked as the youth lifted a towering spoonful of rice and vegetables to his lips.

“I don’t,” he replied with a smile, eyes never leaving the golden grains of rice. “Well, for the most part. I eat about once a month to keep my body going, but when I reach Mid Stage Qi Gathering that will be a thing of the past. No, this is just a bit of nostalgia,” he finished, shoving the spoonful into his mouth and closing his eyes in appreciation as he chewed.

I joined him and dug into the simple breakfast. Zhao Dan had tasted this same bowl of rice and vegetables hundreds of times.

Despite those memories now being mine there was something to be said about experiencing the warmth and nourishment of that first spoonful with my own senses. It was wonderful.

As we walked, I saw that we were moving through the training grounds. Most of them were empty, but I couldn't help my eyes from lingering on the various types of weapons on wooden racks.

Due to my attention split, I didn't realise Wang Ren had stopped and ran right into his outstretched arm. Rubbing my forehead, I looked at him with a questioning gaze.

He nodded towards the path ahead, where two girls were facing off against each other with swords drawn on one of the platforms.

“Can’t we pass them by?” I asked.

Wang Ren shook his head and sighed. “No, we should stay. We are already late and it's been a long time since I last saw a fight between outer disciples. It looks like they have a feud. Let’s wait and see what happens.”

A crowd of disciples had gathered around them, laughing and pointing. I even saw a few spirit stones changing hands. On the left was a short girl with hair as white as snow and a derisive expression on her face.

She glared at her opponent and yelled, “Song Fen, you dared to flirt with Senior Brother Shen Ming and steal his carefully saved spirit stones. Kowtow before me ten times and return them with twenty percent interest, or I’ll make sure to scar your face so bad no man will ever look your way again!”

I almost laughed, but knew that Wang Ren might grow suspicious of my behaviour and restrained myself. This was so cliche it hurt.

Still, with the memories from Zhao Dan, I knew that such squabbles were commonplace and the end result was far from a joke.

The other girl’s face twisted in fury and she lunged forwards, swinging her sword in a graceful arc. Song Fen moved so fast the first girl wasn’t able to react. Perhaps she expected a reply to her taunt.

As the sword fell towards her face, her eyes widened and she leapt sideways.

She was too slow. A scarlet mist sprayed into the air as Song Fen’s blade cut through her arm, biting deep into her shoulder. The white-haired girl screamed out and fell to the ground, clutching her shoulder and staring in wide-eyed horror at the exposed bone.

Song Fen flicked her sword, spraying the excess blood onto the path. Sheathing her blade, she gazed at the sobbing girl on the ground with indifference. “Next time you should focus on your cultivation instead of your looks, Wei Hui,” she sneered.

My hands had begun to shake at some point during the exchange and I clasped them together to steady myself. How could such one-sided savagery be considered a fight?

Looking at the girl on the floor, my heart ached for her. Remembering the times Zhao Dan had witnessed similar scenes was one thing, but being immersed in such cruelty with my own senses left a bitter aftertaste.

All of a sudden, I stumbled forwards, feeling a cold grip in my stomach and an invisible hand drawing me towards Wei Hui.

Before I could move, Wang Ren had already rushed off, his scarlet robes billowing in the wind. The crowd parted ways seeing his status.

With one hand he made a seal, while the other raised the limp arm with delicate ease. Placing the severed muscle fibres together, he pushed down on the cut with two fingers and closed his eyes.

I saw a strange blue light emerge from his core, travelling down his arm and through his fingers into Wei Hui’s shoulder. He held his fingers against the wound for ten seconds or so, before removing them and opening his eyes.

He whispered something to her and she nodded weakly before wiggling her fingers. My jaw fell open, not quite believing what had happened.

Healing such a wound back on Earth would take a surgeon hours, not to mention the weeks of recovery the patient would need after. Yet Wang Ren had completed the most complex part—the ‘surgery’—in moments.

The pull on me weakened, the icy grip receding into the depths of my dantian, but I still felt a soft tug towards the girl. I surmised that this was the effects of my oath— demanding I heal the woman who’d been savagely wounded before my eyes.

Wang Ren returned to my side and waved for us to keep walking. It took me a few seconds to gather my courage, unsure if my question would offend him.

“Senior Brother Wang, what was it you just did? How did you heal her arm with such ease?” I asked, measuring my words.

“Oh, nothing too complex. Any cultivator at Qi Gathering or above can do the same. Qi is vitality itself, so injecting it into the wound helps to stem the bleeding and regenerate the body. It won’t cure all her problems, but a pill or two can handle the rest,” he replied, waving an arm as if such a feat was truly nothing to him.

On the other hand, I was still quivering. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms. I wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or excited at this discovery.

At least it made a little more sense now why these people were so reckless with their own lives and indifferent to that of others. If you knew most of your injuries could be fixed with some qi and pills, then why fear your opponent’s blade?

Wang Ren’s answer had only created more questions for me. To start, that blue light I had seen… It had to be his qi. However, cultivators weren’t able to sense qi until they reached the Qi Gathering realm, which was a long way off for me.

I wondered why I was able to see qi while only in the Body Tempering Realm, but after going through a dozen possible answers in my head I couldn’t find one that felt right. Perhaps the answer would reveal itself in time.

****

Standing under the towering gates, I was struck with a wave of nostalgia. A younger Zhao Dan had stood on the other side of these gates, filled with hope and eager to begin life in the Cloudy Falls Sect.

I turned to Wang Ren. He’d done far more than he needed to for Zhao Dan—a truly compassionate Senior Brother. I bowed down to my waist and gave him a heartfelt smile.

All of a sudden, I felt a pressure I hadn’t known was there lift from my heart. Was that the lingering will of Zhao Dan? I was glad I could at least do this much for the pitiful boy.

“Farewell Zhao Dan. If the heavens will it, perhaps we will meet again. Good luck,” Wang Ren said, a glint in his eye the only slip in his otherwise impassive gaze.

“Thank you for your care these few years, Senior Brother Wang,” I replied. We’d said all that needed to be said. Further pleasantries would only spoil the moment.

He took my empty rice bowl to return to the culinary pavilion, both bowls licked clean of the scrumptious spirit rice.

An Elder of the sect stood by the gate, hands outstretched. I took out the jade slip that marked me as an outer disciple of the Cloudy Falls Sect and handed it to her.

She took a small booklet from her pocket and handed it to me in exchange. Opening it to the first page, I realised it was a map of the Celestial Jade Empire.

I thanked the Elder. She replied with a curt nod, stowing my token and standing to the side. With a final nod to Wang Ren, I stepped through the gates of the sect and began my journey into the world below.

At the base of the mountain that housed the sect, there was a sprawling forest. If Zhao Dan had woken up on time, one of the sect’s Elders would have flown him to Three River City, but instead I had to walk.

It was better this way. Experiencing the world with my own two eyes, feeling the bark of the trees with my own hands— that was far better than relying on Zhao Dan’s jumbled memories.

The trees closest to the sect were huge, towering dozens of metres into the sky with enormous, verdant canopies. The forest floor was littered with flowers and fungi of all kinds and I even spotted a few curious animals watching from the branches as I walked down the path.

For half an hour I wandered, admiring the natural beauty of the Celestial Jade Empire. More than once I stopped and gasped, entranced by magnificent flowers, odd fungi, or unfamiliar beasts.

In those thirty minutes I saw more species of plants, mushrooms, and moss than I believed could exist. I brushed my fingers against the petals of a gorgeous lilac flower, sighing in content, when I heard a blood curdling scream tear through the forest.

Without a second thought I rushed towards the sound, leaving the path behind and going deeper into the trees. The scream had been high pitched, likely a woman or a child.

My breath caught when I burst into a clearing, catching sight of a young girl, thirteen or fourteen, lying on the ground and clutching a wounded leg.

A huge wolf loomed over her, almost my height with midnight black fur and razor sharp fangs that dripped saliva onto the mossy ground.

Its eyes flickered in my direction for a moment and my arrival seemed to force its hand. It howled at the sky and raised its claws, preparing to pounce.