CHAPTER 1

Down amongst the rockfall of a ravine hidden deep within the Elm Woods, a forest green peacock poked and prodded at a dark red lump. Curiosity spurred its actions, and hunger made it especially ravenous.

Gao Xing groaned and opened his eyes, instinctively swatting at the bird’s head. Before he’d even moved his arm an inch, it protested and he stilled.

Bothered by his liveliness, the bird twittered and sprinted off. However, Gao Xing didn’t even notice.

Blood caked him so severely that moving his eyelids alone was a chore, at least until he could wipe his face.

If he could wipe his face. Clearly, his unconscious body had been torn and beaten before he’d been dumped.

The thoughts that ran through his mind were simple in some ways and complex in others. His eyes reflected nothing, staring blankly at a carving hidden beneath a pile of rocks. Its details were clear in the gaps between stones, but he only recognized it as something interesting enough to leave his gaze upon.

Old and broken array formations were inordinately common in a land of human heritage. There was no such thing as a land untouched in this world. It was one of those small things that Gao Xing had learned after his rebirth.

Aye, and what a mighty rebirth it was. Dryly, Gao Xing smiled mockingly and uncurled himself from the ball of flesh he had settled as. His muscles protested, his throat screamed at him with each breath, and his spine creaked ominously as he stretched. However, he was still alive. He couldn’t move very well, but he still functioned to some extent.

Gao Xing hesitantly tested his other arm, and carefully wiped his face with a somewhat green sleeve. Blinking quickly, he cleared the worst of his vision and found himself staring again at the array formation at the bottom of the ravine.

“I’ve never seen one with such a complicated array pattern…”

As the heir to the Gao family, he had been exposed to a lot of things and taught a lot of foundational knowledge in a wide breadth of subjects. This was especially so after he mastered the basic skills, like reading, writing and language as a very young child.

Perks of previous experience… and also his inevitable downfall.

Gao Xing wasn’t born the heir of the Gao family. In fact, Gao Yan was. One could say that she merely recovered her position.

It was the easiest way to think about it. It was the easiest way to settle his mind and defuse the hatred he bore in his heart. To succumb to his death with peace instead of mindless frustration.

Gao Xing carefully controlled his breathing, and searched thoughtfully about the ravine he found himself crippled in.

The earthen walls were steep and tall, the ravine itself deep and sudden. It didn’t look like the kind of place that someone with his injuries would be able to climb out of, and wherever the peacock had ran to, it would be too far for him to crawl. So instead, Gao Xing pulled himself back several feet and used the wall of the ravine to support his back.

Gao Xing puked. For a full minute afterward, he coughed, dry-heaved and spluttered, before slowly pulling himself together.

He was pretty sure that both of his knees were broken. Even the palms of Gao Xing’s hands ached for reasons unbeknownst to him, and his throat… something was very wrong, he was certain of that.

Just as certain as he was that he was simply waiting for death.

Above, the clouds had scattered and the lip of the ravine bisected the evening sun, red and setting. Wind howled between the walls, whistling against his ears and whipping his short bright hair into a mess.

Gao Xing rubbed his hands together and blew on them, ignoring the pain in his arms, and especially the right shoulder.

The ghost of a fleeting memory whipped by, and he rubbed the shoulder in question absently.

He could still vividly feel the individual fingers that had neatly pierced through his flesh.

Gao Xing looked up as a bird fluttered overhead. It flew just above the treeline of this part of the Elm Woods, but from his position, the height was mind-boggling.

Eventually, Gao Xing released a long-withheld sigh and relaxed into the rocks. At least it was quiet, and reasonably peaceful.

The silence allowed his mind to wander, and his willingness to disassociate with the pain allowed him to delve quite deep.

The first time he died, it was more abrupt. This time, he had long known what was going to happen, even if his heart would continue to hold hope.

He was reincarnated, after all. He wasn’t truly reborn. He didn’t have parents. He didn’t belong to this world. He grew to look and feel exactly the same as he had in his last life, and there was no truly magical hocus-pocus heaven-and-earth mysticism of the like present here, back on Earth.

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Any back-story he had could only be fabricated. Even his adoption by a rich family, courtesy of a little showing off as a toddler, couldn’t solve the fact that ‘spiritual energy’ simply wasn’t in his genetics. When his coming-of-age finally came around and the curtain dropped, before slowly parting, it wasn’t to the beginning of a new chapter but the end of his performance.

Surprise, surprise, Gao Xing from Earth didn’t have the ability to use magic. Hence, close the curtains and take this actor’s life, for surely, he couldn’t be human if he couldn’t do human magic. Even the barber’s son could do better, and he was a witless bore.

He hadn’t run right away. He tried to create excuses first, naturally. Gao Xing had asked for a retest, delayed it, and then failed once again. His adoptive parents promptly and guiltlessly disowned him, and their children despised him anyway.

When he was manhandled and chased down, manhandled again and left for dead, it was nothing he couldn’t have guessed might happen. It was even something that he had long since pictured in his mind’s eye.

Gao Xing tucked himself inward and squeezed his elbows between his knees, hugging his chest. Any less and he would freeze to death before anything else could take him.

As the night bore on, Gao Xing slowly lost his warmth and his wit alongside it. He wasn’t hungry, but he was thirsty. He was barely cognizant, but he knew to stay awake.

“You take this very calmly.”

“It’s just death.”

Gao Xing responded automatically, without a thought. It was just a mysterious voice, after all. It was, at this point, endearing to hear another. He spared the effort to look around as much he could without turning his head, having till now refused to shut his eyes for longer than a moment.

“I’m not with you. You can’t see me.”

“Then where are you?”

The voice disappeared after that. The silence would have been eerie if not for its familiarity.

Gao Xing snorted and returned to staring at the spot that, during the day, the old and damaged array formation had been visible, settled between stones. Now, it was invisible; the slight light of the moon above was completely unable to reveal any of it to his blurred sight.

He occasionally heard the pitter patter of little creatures up above. Perhaps he shouldn’t have heard so much, or maybe slight sounds grew louder down the ravine. That didn’t seem right, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Gao Xing idly wondered if the little creatures knew he was there; he was reasonably bloodied, and animals were always good at smelling that.

His thoughts wandered and the night progressed. In the pitch black of night, he once again heard that peculiar voice.

“Do you want to die?”

“No.”

After a few seconds, Gao Xing figured that the voice had probably disappeared again. However, he was wrong.

“Then why don’t you try to live?”

“I won’t make it.”

“You haven’t tried.”

“It’s hopeless.”

Gao Xing cupped his hands, winced at aggrieved wounds, and blew into them. The wind fluttered by and brought with it a chill that rendered his efforts moot.

“You have died before.”

“I have.”

He resorted to hiding his hands in the crests of his knees and huddling in further. His muscles ached horrendously in protest, but not as much as if he stretched his body back out.

Gao Xing, obviously, remembered his first death vividly. However, it was much quicker and much less expected. This time around, he had come to terms with it long before it happened. He wasn’t depressed or defeatist; he just understood that this life simply wasn’t in his favour.

“How did you die?”

For once, Gao Xing didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked to the stars above. Some were familiar, some were not - either way, he hadn’t studied them in either lifetime.

“I’m not sure. It could have been blood-loss, blunt-force trauma, or maybe it was just shock. Probably a number of things. It was very quick, you see - I didn’t have time like this to sit down and think it over beforehand.”

He was grateful to have someone to speak to. To Gao Xing, dying alone would have been rather disappointing. It would have been boring. At least, he could talk to someone before he inevitably passed from his injuries. Or, from the cold. Thirst was also a contender.

Gao Xing wet his lips, failed, and kept speaking.

“This time, it was inevitable. I knew I was going to end up like this. I’m not from this world, you see. I was never going to get a martial spirit from my coming-of-age ceremony. I knew from the moment I found out about the magic in this place that I wasn’t ever going to fit in. Did I think they would kill me over it? Think me inhuman? I figured that out toward the end. Still, I didn’t run away, and I think a small part of me held some hope. Stupid, I know.”

A response wasn’t forthcoming, but Gao Xing simply felt the need to vent. He didn’t stop.

“My adoptive sister has a decent martial spirit. It’s good for her to take back the position of heiress. I don’t have very strong feelings about it, or I wouldn’t if she didn’t hunt me down. I don’t know who dropped me here, but she would’ve had her hand in it. I don’t know who to blame for my still being alive.

“Did she show mercy? Maybe. Does it change anything? No. I’m still going to die here. Maybe I could try to crawl my way out of here, follow wherever that bird went, but then what? I’m not surviving this without the aid of, at least, a graded alchemist. I’m pretty damaged. It’s wishful thinking. I’m not going to waste my last moments for nothing. Knowing my luck, I’ll be reborn anyway.”

A sardonic smile crossed his bruised lips.

“Thanks for listening to me.”

Gao Xing snorted and allowed himself to close his eyes. Ranting was worth it, but it also sapped the last of his energy. Were the gods willing, he might wake up come morning. If not, perhaps, he could be reborn into another strange place. Now that, was wishful thinking.

Silence reigned in the ravine. The pitter patter of little creatures had dwindled to nothing, and even the wind seemed to calm as the traversing chill settled and receded. Gao Xing’s body heat gathered without restraint, and for the first time all evening, he actually felt somewhat warm.

However, he couldn’t sleep. The suddenness of total silence was just a bit too unnerving. Against his better judgement, his eyelids sprung back open.

Directly across from him, the ancient array formation glowed brightly within the darkness. He couldn’t adamantly say that he hadn’t expected something like that.

“Is this where you’re hiding?”

A pause, but one where Gao Xing held a certain expectation of a response.

“You may call it hiding. You are welcome to visit me.”

“How do I do that?”

“Reach out and touch it, outlander. Come. What have you left to lose?”

Uncertainly, but agreeing with the words spoken, Gao Xing slowly moved out of his perch and crawled toward the only light within the ravine. Call him crazy, maybe, but again, there was nothing to be lost. Either way, he felt he owed this voice for accompanying him, even if only briefly.

“You wouldn’t want to possess a broken thing like me, right?”

Gao Xing asked, his hand hovering a mere inch from the formation.

“Right…?”

There was no response. Well, something as paltry as silence wasn’t going to stop him. He was dying anyway.