Ashes choked the skies.
The world burned—his world—and no one came to save it.
Xian Lei lay crushed beneath the crumbling wreckage of his courtyard. A shattered wooden pillar pinned his leg, mangled flesh and bone exposed to the flames licking closer with every breath. The once-pristine jade tiles of the Ninefold Sect were slick with blood and strewn with corpses. Familiar ones.
His mother's hand still clutched his. Cold. Limp. Her face, once gentle and always worried for him, was frozen in an expression of shock.
His little sister was still kneeling a few feet away, small body slumped forward in a pool of her own blood. Her sect robes—dyed dark red.
He could not scream anymore. His throat was torn raw.
They had come like thunderclouds—disciples he once knew, elders who once gave him empty praises, and their puppets from the inner sect, whose eyes gleamed with cruelty behind noble smiles.
"Trash like you never belonged here."
"Your father's debts, your mother's bloodline—it all ends today."
He had begged. He had fought back, once. Until the first sword pierced his stomach. Until he saw his sister run out to protect him and take a blade through her chest. Until they tossed his mother into the flames like refuse.
Until his meridians shattered from the backlash of a forced pill, and the light drained from his eyes.
Now, there was only the fire. And the sound of approaching footsteps.
A figure emerged from the smoke.
Draped in robes darker than night, with silver embroidery coiling around her sleeves like a serpent, she stood untouched by the chaos around her. Her black hair billowed like a banner behind her, and her eyes… her eyes were colder than the void.
The Demon Queen.
Yue Qianlan.
She stood at the edge of the courtyard, her silhouette backlit by the blazing inferno. The flames recoiled from her presence. Blood steamed and evaporated near her feet. She was ethereal. Untouchable.
A goddess among mortals. And yet a demon by name.
"You…" Xian Lei croaked, coughing blood.
He remembered her. Of course he did. How could he forget the face of the woman who watched the slaughter unfold in silence?
In the end, she had not lifted a finger. She never did.
When the elders conspired to destroy the lower bloodlines to consolidate power—she said nothing.
When the traitors massacred the outer sect—she watched from her icy palace.
She had the power to end it all. One move, one word, and she could have stopped it.
But she didn't.
And now, as the last embers of his life guttered out, she stood before him again. Serene. Untouched. Unfeeling.
"…Why?" His voice broke into a whisper.
Her gaze lowered. Their eyes met. He saw no hatred. No joy. Not even cruelty.
Just apathy.
"You were never part of the plan," she said, her voice soft, melodic… and empty. "None of you were."
And then she turned away.
She turned away.
Something in Xian Lei broke.
The last of his strength surged from the pit of his despair, forcing him up despite the searing pain in his chest. He reached for her with a blood-soaked hand.
"DAMN YOU!" he screamed.
She didn't even pause.
"I CURSE YOU, YUE QIANLAN!"
Blood erupted from his mouth, but his voice roared with the fury of a dying star.
"I curse you to suffer as I have suffered! I curse you to feel everything you've made me feel—despair, loss, hatred, betrayal—EVERYTHING!"
His body trembled violently. A strange sensation welled within him. The air itself twisted.
For a brief instant, a mark glowed on his chest—an ethereal sigil he'd never seen before—before vanishing like a phantom in the smoke.
Yue Qianlan stopped.
Her back tensed. She turned her head, just slightly, and her eyes narrowed—not with disdain, but something else.
Surprise.
"…What did you say?"
He collapsed before he could answer. The darkness took him.
When Xian Lei opened his eyes again, he expected fire.
He expected pain. Blood. The weight of failure crushing his chest.
But instead…
He was cold. So very cold.
And the world was… quiet.
His body wasn't torn. His chest didn't burn. His legs were intact. The scent of ash was gone.
He sat up.
Bamboo stalks rustled softly in the wind around him, their green leaves catching the moonlight. A narrow stone path wound through the misty grove. The sky above was silver-blue, stars gleaming like tears of light.
"Where—"
The words died on his tongue.
His hands—young. Untouched. No scars. No burns. No calluses from desperate, bloody nights.
His robe—simple cloth, pale blue. The outer disciple uniform of the Ninefold Sect.
Xian Lei scrambled to his feet, heart pounding like a war drum.
"No… no, no, this—this can't be—"
He ran down the path, past the bamboo trees, and reached the clearing.
The sight that greeted him was one he had long forgotten, buried beneath years of bitterness and pain.
The outer disciple courtyard.
Before the purges. Before the betrayal.
And standing at the far end, chatting with two fellow disciples, was himself—or rather, a version of himself that hadn't yet been beaten down by life.
A boy of fourteen. Lean. Soft-featured. Eyes bright with cautious hope.
He turned toward Xian Lei's direction, confused.
"…Senior brother?"
Xian Lei stumbled back, clutching his head.
Memories flooded in—a stream of overlapping lives.
The fall. The screams. The betrayal.
The curse.
And then the mark.
The strange, glowing sigil—
System Activation: Emotion-Linked Ascension Protocol Initialized.
A soundless voice echoed in his mind, emotionless and cold.
[Emotion-Linked Ascension System Activated]Host: Xian LeiRealm: Qi Condensation – Stage 1Bound Entity: Yue Qianlan (Stage: Core Realm)Status: Partial Soul FusionSynchronization: 7%
⚠️ Warning: Bound entity unaware of link. Soul instability imminent.⚠️ Note: All emotional fluctuations from bound entity will now fuel host's cultivation.⚠️ Note: Severe emotional trauma to bound entity will reflect as backlash to host.
Next Task: Observe target's emotional states. First pulse scan in 3… 2… 1…
Xian Lei froze.
The world around him seemed to dim.
A pulse of heat surged through his chest—a wave of emotions not his own.
Loneliness.
Annoyance.
Superiority.
A flicker of distant sorrow.
His vision blurred for an instant—and then returned, clearer than ever.
He felt something tether him—thread-thin, invisible, yet pulsing with a strange rhythm—to a presence far, far away.
Not physically near. But ever-present. Towering.
He knew who it was.
"Yue Qianlan," he whispered.
He had cursed her… and something answered.
He didn't just come back in time.
He came back tied to her soul.
And now, with every beat of her blackened heart—he would rise.
Or fall.