The blazing sun hung high, yet clouds veiled the sky.
This world's oceans were as vast and boundless as those of Jing Qian's previous life.
A lone boy and a giant spider rode upon a raft propelled by schools of fish, speeding ahead as swiftly as a galloping horse.
Fortunately, the skies were clear, the sea calm, and the raft glided smoothly without mishap.
Jing Qian lay quietly on Qingzhuzi's broad back. Pure primordial qi circulated through his infant body, slowly nourishing his flesh and thickening his bloodline foundation.
This was no ordinary qi. It flowed naturally from his soul, transformed from overflowing Life Essence, becoming innate primordial energy. This energy was especially suited for nourishment, an inborn treasure that all living beings coveted.
Yet, despite its value, few ever converted Life Essence directly into innate primordial qi.
In this cultivation realm, Life Essence was regarded as the root of all supernatural power, the very foundation of cultivation.
It was notoriously difficult to accumulate, and at every stage of practice, its uses were countless.
No matter a cultivator's background, as long as they had even the humblest inheritance, they would know far more efficient ways of using Life Essence.
No one would be so extravagant as to squander it, directly converting it into primordial qi for their bodies.
Only Jing Qian, possessing that strange inner space that granted him an extra means of gaining Life Essence, and not yet having entered the Dao of cultivation, could passively enjoy such a baptism of innate qi.
The qi flowed lively and fine, like a spring breeze across the face. It washed through his tiny frame, from head to toe, not sparing even the gaps beneath his nails or the tips of his hair.
It was so comfortable that little Jing Qian could not help but hum in delight!
And because his body was so small, the qi was abundant after nourishing him, there was still some left over.
None of it went to waste. All the excess was absorbed by Qingzhuzi beneath him.
With innate qi forging his foundation, Jing Qian had taken a tremendous step forward. Compared with his previous life, his destiny was already set on a completely different path!
Meanwhile, within his inner sea of consciousness, Jing Qian was locked in a relentless contest with the two enemy souls: the tall bamboo pole and the squat stone roller.
To him, their spirits were nothing less than rations of Life Essence, vital for his growth.
But given the disparity in strength, he had to rely on guile: luring them to attack with full force, then letting the stele's safe zone reflect the damage onto them.
This method was not fast, but it was safe.
Having only just been reborn into this world, with both body and soul fragile, he could not afford unnecessary risks.
Little by little, he absorbed fragments of their soul-force through the countershock, growing his Life Essence.
Within the narrow safe zone, Jing Qian employed the secret Eight Trigrams Steps of his family. He twisted and shifted, sometimes exposing half his body beyond the barrier to bait the enemies, then darting back inside.
The two foes knew nothing but mechanical slaughter, falling neatly into the trap he wove.
Each of their all-out strikes rebounded on them, shaking their organs, cracking bone and sinew, and causing injuries that weakened their spirits.
And each time, fragments of their soul-power drifted free, absorbed effortlessly by the boy.
"+0.01!"
"+0.01!"
Jing Qian's Life Essence steadily climbed, and with it, he eagerly hoped for more knowledge to be unlocked.
At this stage, any scrap of knowledge was priceless; nothing could be wasted.
This slow but steady growth, harvesting strength while drawing "lottery rewards" of memory for free, left him utterly entranced.
If not for his concern for the safety of his body in the outside world, he would have gladly remained here until he had drained both enemy souls completely dry before venturing out again.
Yet as time passed, one troubling change crept in unnoticed.
With his Life Essence continuously rising, his incarnation within this inner space began to regress, growing younger and younger!
From a youthful swordsman of his previous life, he was slowly transforming into the swaddled infant of this new one.
As his soul-form weakened, his strength inside the space declined, and with it, the efficiency of harvesting Life Essence also fell.
This was indeed a troubling change, yet it was not something he could choose.
And in the long run, the gradual alignment of soul and flesh was an essential step in cultivation.
Jing Qian accepted this transformation calmly, without emotional turmoil.
After experiencing death, rebirth, and hardship, his mind had matured greatly, his emotions steady as stone.
Still, his work did not cease; on the contrary, it pressed forward with even greater urgency.
Clinging to the last moments of his "adult" form within the soul-space, he moved in and out more frequently.
His Life Essence continued its steady, unwavering growth.
Finally, after dozens of rounds, a great mass of blue-white smoke spilled from the bamboo pole's spirit and was captured by Jing Qian!
At once, torrents of information surged straight into his consciousness.
…
On the shores of Jiangzhu Island, Jing Sushì (his grandmother) watched her beloved grandson drift farther away and finally let out a breath of relief.
Her clan had suffered calamity: cultivators from Xizhishi Island, leading a band of rogue cultivators and brigands, had broken through the island's defenses and invaded its core.
She had seen with her own eyes no fewer than seventeen members of the family slain.
The three-hundred-year foundation of Jiangzhu Island, built when the Jing and Su ancestors together planted the Island Veins and lit the Life Furnace, was annihilated in a single day.
It was true that islands rose and fell often within the realm of Hunzhou.
Every few decades, there would be some poorly managed isle that perished.
But Jiangzhu's fall was different. The island was not yet at its end, yet it had been maliciously slaughtered, swallowed whole. Such a thing had never before occurred.
Hunzhou was a land of turmoil. Who knew how much bloodshed and slaughter it would yet produce?
Having secured a path of escape for her grandson, Jing Sushì had no more attachments, only one burning hatred, a desire to wash away shame with the blood of her enemies.
She was aged, her lifespan nearly spent. Years had eroded her cultivation, her strength far from what it once was.
But with life and death cast aside, no matter the foe, she would bite off a piece of their flesh before she fell.
Turning her back to the sea, she faced the island that had birthed and raised her. Her bent back straightened bit by bit.
Though nearing eighty years of age, the old woman exuded suddenly a sharp, unyielding aura.
At that moment, childish laughter and shouts drifted from the distance:
"Grandma! Grandma!"
"Heehee!"
"Grandson missed you, Grandma!"
A pair of children, a boy and a girl, skipped hand in hand toward her.
The cries had come from the girl.
She looked about seven or eight years old, delicate and charming like carved jade.
Yet on closer look, both her eyes were pure white, without pupils, murderous qi filling her brows. She had long since died!
As for the boy at her side, though the same height, his forehead bore a single horn. His face was swollen purple, grotesque, and terrifying, an even stranger ghost child!
The girl was dead, but the boy was alive, an eerie child cultivator in the flesh.