CHAPTER

1

Loose Ends

I

Just as the sun finished setting, Hao Zhen arrived at the clearing where his team had agreed to meet up. They were supposed to be back here by nightfall, so he was right on time. As his teammates were nowhere to be seen, Hao Zhen sat down on the grass to wait for them, figuring that they’d be arriving any moment now.

It was a crisp, chilly night, and the moon was in full view, surrounded by a sea of stars. The forest was mostly silent save for the subtle hum of the wind, the leaves on the nearby trees gently swaying.

Hao Zhen spent a while just sitting there, staring aimlessly at the sky, his mind on the events of the last few days. Lost in his thoughts, he patted one of his hands on his robe, getting rid of the dirt on his palm and fingers, and ran it through the short, wild dark brown mess he was forced to call his hair. He had long since given up on growing it out or keeping it straight. Nowadays, he wore it short and messy, having already learned that trying to stop it from sticking out randomly was fighting a losing battle.

His unruly brown hair he had inherited from his mother, and his sharp, pointy face with small, narrow eyes from his father. In his plain red robes, Hao Zhen figured he looked like one of those rogue cultivators—someone wild and violent. And that couldn’t be furthest from the truth, considering he was merely a lowly outer disciple of the Blazing Light Sect, and a new one at that.

This was, in fact, Hao Zhen’s first mission outside the sect. It was also his first time leaving the sect since he joined it about two months ago. This wasn't a mission he had chosen to take, but one that he had had no choice but to accept. Every month, outer disciples would be assigned a mission that they couldn’t refuse, this one being one of them.

The mission was simple: gathering a few dozen deathpetal orchids and shadowseeker daffodils. To gather these magical plants, they had had to travel to the Gentle Green Valley—a small valley thousands of miles away from the sect, though still within its sphere of influence.

Over a week ago, when Hao Zhen received the jade slip with the details of the mission, he had been rather concerned about leaving the sect. Now it was clear to him that he had been needlessly worried. Besides some tension between two of his teammates, there hadn’t been any problems whatsoever.

The journey to the Gentle Green Valley had taken about three days flying on the magical cloud of the leader of their team, the inner disciple Ke Li, whom Hao Zhen first met right before they set out. Hao Zhen was also assigned two other teammates for this mission, both of them new outer disciples like him.

Hao Zhen believed that either the rumors he had heard about inner disciples being arrogant and unhelpful were exaggerated—or that, at the very least, Ke Li was an exception to the rule. The inner disciple had been nothing but warm and friendly the entire time.

About half a day ago, the four of them descended at the center of the Gentle Green Valley, where Hao Zhen was currently sitting. They had then split up and set out in different directions to look for deathpetal orchids and shadowseeker daffodils. Over the last couple of hours, he had been able to find over a fourth of the requested number of magical plants.

As long as his three other teammates had similar hauls, the four of them would hopefully be on their way back to the sect in a short while—or at least that was what Hao Zhen had initially thought.

Now he wasn’t so sure anymore. Hao Zhen frowned. Even though he had already been waiting for almost half an hour, his teammates were nowhere in sight.

And that meant that something was wrong.

Where was everyone else? He looked in the directions Duo Lan and Tian Jin—the other two outer disciples in the team—had set out in, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. When he looked in the direction Ke Li had chosen, however, he noticed something in the sky a good distance away from him. He squinted his eyes. There, right above the trees, was a faint, hazy cloud of—

Red.

Hao Zhen’s heart skipped a beat, and he jumped to his feet.

To confirm if that was indeed what he thought it was, Hao Zhen channeled spiritual power into his eyes, using Spiritual Sight. A moment later, the world was tinged red, the ambient spiritual energy around him becoming visible. And sure enough, the red cloud in the distance started glowing brightly, almost blindingly.

There was no doubt about it. Someone—most likely Ke Li—had used a spiritual beacon. It was so far away that Hao Zhen wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been actively looking for signs of his teammates. From what he could tell, the cloud was already half-dissipated, so some time must have passed since it was set off.

Without hesitation, Hao Zhen bolted toward it.

II

Running as fast as he could, Hao Zhen quickly reached his destination—a small clearing, above which the spiritual beacon still hung in the air—and then came to an almost immediate stop.

On his way here, Hao Zhen had racked his brain, coming up with reasons why Ke Li used the spiritual beacon. Among them were monsters and enemy cultivators.

Not among them was Ke Li, standing on one side of the clearing, his originally pristine white robes dirty and slightly torn, some distance away from Tian Jin, who had a bloodied sword in his hands. Tian Jin was holding the blade against his own neck, drawing blood, with some of it dripping down his neck and pooling in the collar of his blue robes.

The faintly glowing red cloud hanging in the air between his two teammates acted as the only source of lighting in the clearing, washing the area in its crimson light.

As Hao Zhen stood there, struck dumb, Ke Li, who had been facing Tian Jin, slowly turned his head to look in his direction. There was sweat dripping down his forehead, and Ke Li’s normally gentle, refined features were warped in a grim but strained expression.

Their eyes met. Ke Li blinked.

“Well,” Ke Li said, his brown eyes narrowing, his voice strained. “It appears we have a problem.”

Hao Zhen didn’t know what to say—or even what to think. He was still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Ke Li kept staring at him, eyes hard, brow furrowed. “It had been a while since I used the spiritual beacon, so I thought only Tian Jin had noticed it, but…” The inner disciple sighed. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed put?” Only Ke Li’s head moved. His arms, hands, fingers, and the rest of his body all remained perfectly still. He seemed to have to muster every bit of the energy he had in him just to speak.

Tian Jin also appeared to be stuck in place, but he wasn’t eerily still like Ke Li; instead, he was shaking all over, veins bulging on his face, his skin pale. Hao Zhen never imagined he would see Tian Jin, someone blessed with impossibly good looks and who always wore a confident, relaxed expression, in such a state. Tian Jin’s lips were half-parted, and Hao Zhen could faintly hear some sort of noise coming from his mouth, as if the other boy was trying to say something, but his voice was too faint to make out any words.

Hao Zhen took in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Missions outside the sect could be dangerous, certainly, but the danger was supposed to come from outside the sect—from monsters, rogue cultivators, or even members of other sects.

“You mentioned a problem,” Hao Zhen said. His throat felt dry all of a sudden. “What kind of problem?”

Tian Jin’s shaking grew more intense, whereas Ke Li’s expression became more strained. “Loose ends,” Ke Li said. “That kind of problem. Sorry, kid, but even if I wanted to let you live, I can’t. Du Qing was quite clear that I was supposed to return to the sect alone, even though the main target was only Tian Jin. I was planning on dealing with you after I finished off Tian Jin, so you were supposed to still have some time left, but… Well, I guess you’ll be dying a little sooner.”

Du Qing. Hao Zhen had heard that name before—in fact, he doubted there was anyone in the Blazing Light Sect who hadn’t. Du Qing was regarded as the most virtuous and honorable prime disciple in the sect, and his master, Bao Shan, was one of the most influential prime elders and was similarly famous for having a righteous and upstanding character.

Hao Zhen had no idea what Du Qing had to do with this, but if he was involved, then the situation was even worse than he had originally thought. Hao Zhen had never heard of any conflicts between Du Qing and Tian Jin; in fact, according to the rumors he had heard, the two were supposed to be on friendly terms.

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Tian Jin was about as famous as Du Qing, but for different reasons. Two months ago, Tian Jin participated in the same entrance examination as Hao Zhen, taking first place. Then, after joining the Outer Court, Tian Jin had only taken two months to become the most outstanding outer disciple in the history of the Blazing Light Sect, breaking all sorts of records and making numerous accomplishments.

Tian Jin’s legendary reputation didn’t seem to be doing him any favors right now, however. The famous outer disciple looked like he was on the verge of collapse, whereas Ke Li appeared to still be in fighting condition. The two of them were in a deadlock right now, but it was clear in whose favor the balance was tipped. Moreover, if the rumors Hao Zhen had heard were correct, Tian Jin was at the second level of the Red Spiritual Realm, whereas Ke Li, as an inner disciple, was at least at the third level. A difference in levels wasn’t supposed to be something that could be overcome.

Hao Zhen didn’t think running away was an option. Ke Li would look for him after he finished off Tian Jin, and he had no confidence in outrunning an inner disciple or hiding from one.

He glanced at the shaking Tian Jin, who was staring back at him with his eyes wide, and then at Ke Li. He considered his options. Ke Li was in a good condition, but it didn’t seem like he could move right now. Running away wasn’t an option, so…

He took a step forward. Fighting Ke Li was madness. Hao Zhen was only at the first level of the Red Spiritual Realm, which meant there was a difference of at least two levels between them. However, it looked like that was his best shot—if not his only one.

He reached into the side pocket of his robe, taking hold of the paper talisman he kept inside it. He had bought it a week ago, when he found out he’d be going on a mission outside the sect, exchanging a good portion of his contribution points for it.

It was an offensive talisman, and the moment he channeled spiritual energy into it, it’d sent a blast of fire in the direction he was pointing it to. Since it looked like Ke Li was unable to move, there was a chance it’d work.

Hao Zhen began pulling the talisman out of his pocket, but before he could take it out, he felt a sharp jab of pain from his chest—as if something had suddenly exploded inside it.

Crying out, Hao Zhen let go of the talisman and doubled over. He felt as if his lungs were being torn apart and shredded to pieces. The pain was overwhelming, thousands of times stronger than anything he had ever felt before in his life.

“There we go.”

Hao Zhen heard Ke Li’s strained voice. As the pain started fading, Hao Zhen tried to open his mouth to speak, to ask what in the world was going on and what Ke Li had done to him. Before he could utter even a single word, however, another burst of pain surged inside him, and he cried out again.

He tried to think through the pain, but it was too strong, too overpowering. It was only a few moments later, when he felt the pain fading away again, that he regained some semblance of clarity. Once again, however, the pain returned before he could do anything, as if his lungs were being repeatedly stabbed by a knife from the inside.

The pain came and went in pulses, assailing him again the moment the previous wave of pain finished fading.

“It’s… It’s too late, I’m afraid,” Ke Li said.

Gritting his teeth, Hao Zhen forced himself to raise his head and focused on Ke Li, whose expression had become even more strained. By this point, he looked almost like Tian Jin, veins bulging, eyes wide. “I was stalling for time. Tian Jin tried to warn you. The poison is already working. You’re done for now.”

Hao Zhen heard footsteps. With some effort, he turned his head slightly toward the side and saw Tian Jin approaching him in slow steps, his sword no longer held against his own neck, but raised in front of him. He towered over Hao Zhen. Even though they were about the same age and Hao Zhen was of average height for a sixteen-year-old, Tian Jin was taller by over half a foot.

There was a grimace on Tian Jin’s face, and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind. With visible effort, sweat pouring down his forehead, he opened his mouth and croaked, “Fight back. Run.” Tears were pooling in the corner of his eyes. “Please.” A few moments later, a shudder ran through the taller boy, his expression becoming one of agony. And then Hao Zhen realized: besides whatever Ke Li was doing to control Tian Jin’s movements, Tian Jin was also experiencing the same bursts of pain.

“You are even capable of speaking in your condition,” Ke Li said, his voice now tinged with wryness. “You really are something else, Tian Jin. No wonder Du Qing wants you gone so much. You can only blame yourself for being too outstanding.”

As Ke Li spoke, Tian Jin continued approaching, only coming to a stop once he was half an arm’s length away from Hao Zhen, the blade of his sword brushing against the back of Hao Zhen’s neck. Any lower, and it’d start digging into his skin, drawing blood, and after that, Tian Jin would only need to lower it a bit more, cutting a little deeper, to cripple him for life. Despite that, Hao Zhen remained standing in the same place, bent over, the pain he was feeling too great to think, let alone move.

Suddenly, the cold, deadly kiss of the blade on his neck disappeared. The next moment, Hao Zhen caught, out of the corner of his eye, the sword dropping to the ground.

“What’s this? You… you aren’t resisting?” Hao Zhen heard Ke Li say. The inner disciple sounded bewildered, his voice no longer as strained, but not quite normal either. “Then how did you… Ah. I see. Well, that’s fine by me.”

Hao Zhen could only watch as Tian Jin slowly pulled back his right arm, his right hand forming a fist. “Sorry,” he murmured softly. On Tian Jin’s arms, red gauntlets suddenly appeared, extending from his fist all the way to his elbows. Because he was still using Spiritual Sight, Hao Zhen could see Tian Jin’s spiritual power gathering around his fists, making it look like the gauntlets were glowing red.

Tian Jin’s right hand then shot forward, striking Hao Zhen’s chest. Hao Zhen’s feet left the ground as he was launched backward, shooting through the air before colliding against a tree and slumping to the ground.

To Hao Zhen’s confusion, as he lay crumbled on the ground, he realized that his world hadn’t exploded in pain. The spiritual power that had gathered in Tian Jin’s fists, which should have torn a hole in his chest, seemed to have had no effect on him. It was as if Tian Jin’s attack had been entirely physical—as if the spiritual power had disappeared the moment Tian Jin’s fist had made contact with him.

To a graysoul—someone who had never cultivated before—being hit strong enough to be sent flying and then crashing into a tree would probably break not only their ribs but also their spine. As Hao Zhen was a cultivator, however, even if only a first-level redsoul, something like this wasn’t nearly enough to knock him out. His chest and back hurt, certainly, but he didn’t think anything was broken. The pain coming from his lungs was also gone, he realized, which was why he could clearly think again now.

What in Heaven… Hao Zhen had a hard time comprehending the situation. As far as he could tell, he was now in a much better state than he had been before Tian Jin’s punch, and that didn’t make much sense. He didn’t have the time to lie there contemplating what was going on, however. Tian Jin’s fight with Ke Li wasn’t over yet.

Groaning, Hao Zhen started pushing himself off the ground. Mid-movement, however, he froze, his mind suddenly going blank.

And then it hit him: A surge of pain unlike any other he had ever felt in his life. It bloomed inside his head, completely without warning, and it washed over him in a matter of moments, washing his world in white, bright agony. He felt as if his mind was being torn apart, ripped to shreds, and under this new surge of suffering, Hao Zhen only managed to last a few moments before darkness took over, unconsciousness claiming him

III

Hao Zhen awoke with a groan. He scowled. His whole body hurt, and he didn’t remember his bed being this hard—or this prickly. Prickly. Like grass. He blinked, and his gaze focused. Branches and leaves hung above him. A canopy. He was… under a tree?

He shakily stood up. His body protested—for some reason he felt exhausted—but he wasn’t about to sleep in this unfamiliar place. He was in a forest, he quickly ascertained. A moment later it came to him—the mission. Right. He had left the sect on a mission.

While thinking, he kept looking around, and as he did, he caught sight of something blue. He blinked. Not something—someone.

A body wearing blue robes. Tian Jin’s robes—Tian Jin’s body.

Hao Zhen’s drowsiness fled him as if scared away. Yesterday’s events, which had been trying to recall, rushed through his mind. Finding Tian Jin and Ke Li, being suddenly assailed by ungodly pain, being sent flying by Tian Jin’s punch, and finally feeling an all-consuming pain that rendered him unconscious…

He hurried over to Tian Jin’s body and checked on his condition. The taller boy was alive—his chest slowly rising and falling, his skin fair instead of the deathly pale it had been yesterday. If anything, Tian Jin looked like he was in a painting, with his long black hair loosely spread out beneath him and his face set in a peaceful, relaxed expression.

Hao Zhen slowly breathed out, thoughts churning in his head. He doubted Ke Li would have left without ensuring that Tian Jin was dead. This could only mean that the inner disciple had failed. So what happened to him?

Hao Zhen’s gaze fell on a tree on the opposite side of the clearing. Held up against its bark was a corpse, the hilt of a sword sticking out of his chest—the rest of it no doubt buried into the bark of the tree. The corpse’s head was hanging down, so he couldn’t see its face, but Hao Zhen recognized the white robes it wore.

That answered his question. Hao Zhen looked away; it wasn’t a pretty sight to behold.

Tian Jin had, somehow, turned the tables on Ke Li and killed him. But how? Hao Zhen groaned. The mission had really gone south, hadn’t it? In hindsight, he should have expected this. Tian Jin’s presence was already a major red flag. How that hadn’t occurred to him, he had no—

Hao Zhen blinked. Red flag? What did that even mean?

A sign that something bad was about to happen.

Right. He nodded to himself. That was what it meant. So why— No. Wait. How did he know what it meant? He didn’t remember ever hearing that term before. And then he remembered: he hadn’t heard it; he had come across it while browsing the…

Internet.

He had found it on the internet. The internet. His eyes widened. He didn’t know that term—or did he?

His vision swam. He felt his thoughts slow to a crawl, and then…

Memories. Memories flooded into his head, tearing through his thoughts, piercing his mind like ice-cold needles, fighting for relevance. He stumbled backward and fell onto the ground, clutching his head, a storm of alien memories burrowing into him.

It ended as abruptly as it began. Hao Zhen gasped as the swirl of memories in his mind subsided. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to calm himself down, trying to understand what had just happened. Then, slowly, he felt his mind rearrange itself, adapting to the new memories, and as he reviewed them, he soon found the centerpiece that held them together.

Amyas Auclair.

A name. His name. Somehow.

Hao Zhen took in a deep breath and tried his best not to panic. These memories he had just received weren’t new, but old—the oldest memories he had. Although they seemed foreign at first, the deeper he looked, the more he absorbed, and the more he felt himself resonate with them.

Earth. Transmigration. Another world.

Those were the words at the forefront of his mind. They echoed throughout his thoughts, guiding him from memory to memory, from thought to thought. He just stood there, thinking, recalling, adapting. The more memories he assimilated, the faster he assimilated the remaining ones, and before long, he was taking in one memory after the other without stopping.

A while later, Hao Zhen opened his eyes. He was still in the forest, it was still morning, but nothing looked the same.

More questions than he could count plagued him. There was just too much he wanted—too much he needed—to know.

And now it was time to start looking for answers.