Back in his small, dimly lit hut, Yang Kai finally allowed himself a moment to rest. The battle earlier had drained him, and every breath sent a dull ache through his ribs. He sat cross legged.
The familiar position of cultivation. His body moved automatically into the stance, muscle memory from years of practice taking over.
Yang Kai realized that in his right hand he was clutching something. Looking down in doubt, he was surprised to find a small, fine work of porcelain in his hand.
When had this appeared? He had not been holding anything when he collapsed. Someone must have placed it in his hand while he was unconscious.
What is this? This was definitely not his, for the only things that Yang Kai owned were the clothes on his back and his broom. How could he have this?
His possessions were pathetically few. One set of black robes. One broom. One thin sleeping mat. That was everything he owned in this world.
The small porcelain bottle had a label. Yang Kai read it out: "Blood Clotting Cream".
The characters were written in elegant script. Expensive calligraphy that indicated high quality contents.
Blood Clotting Cream, Yang Kai knew of this.
The original Yang Kai's memories provided the information immediately. This was one of the most common medicinal items disciples carried.
This was the school's cream to help heal wounds, although it was ordinary, its effects were very good. Generally, disciples will carry one bottle around for emergency uses. This one bottle of cream in High Heaven Logistics, was very expensive.
For common disciples, this was basic first aid. They could afford to use it freely. For Trial Disciples, it was an unattainable luxury.
Ten points of Contribution was the bottle's cost!
The number hit Yang Kai like a physical blow. Ten Contribution Points. He earned maybe five points per month from his sweeping duties. This single bottle represented two months of his labor.
He smirked wryly. In most cultivation novels, a secret benefactor gifting medicine was a common trope. Usually, it was a kind senior, a beautiful martial sister, or some mysterious elder who saw potential in the struggling protagonist.
The new Yang Kai recognized the pattern immediately. He had read this scenario dozens of times. The down on his luck protagonist receives mysterious help from an unknown benefactor. Later, that benefactor is revealed to be an important character.
Usually a love interest.
"Could it be a young lady secretly watching over me?" he thought.
The thought was both amusing and embarrassing. In his previous life, no woman had ever paid him that kind of attention. The only female companionship he had known came with an hourly rate.
Now a mysterious beauty might be watching him? The idea seemed absurd.
Perhaps this bottle of cream was not worth much to them, but to Yang Kai currently, he needed it.
Ten Contribution Points was a fortune to him. But to an Inner Sect disciple or Core Disciple, it was pocket change. They could buy ten bottles without thinking twice.
There was a saying, one small kindness must be remembered eternally and returned.
The old saying resonated with both versions of Yang Kai. The original had been raised to value gratitude. The transmigrator understood the importance of repaying debts.
Whoever had left this bottle, he would remember. One day, when he had the strength, he would repay this kindness tenfold.
Calming down, his smirk faded as he traced his fingers over his battered skin.
147 losses.
The number was staggering. In the world of cultivation, defeat was commonplace. But to lose every single time without exception? That required a special kind of consistency.
The reality was simple: He was weak. Too weak.
His body was malnourished. His cultivation was stagnant. His techniques were basic. By every measure, he was among the weakest disciples in High Heaven Pavilion.
But not forever.
That was the difference between the old Yang Kai and the new. The old had clung to hope without basis. The new had knowledge, experience, and a gift from a being beyond this world.
He unsealed the bottle and applied the cream to his wounds. Almost instantly, a cooling sensation spread across his skin, dulling the pain.
The effect was immediate and profound. The throbbing in his ribs decreased. The swelling in his face began to subside. The deep bruises started to fade from purple to yellow.
High quality medicine. Worth every one of those ten Contribution Points.
He exhaled.
The relief was immense. For the first time since waking in this body, he felt like he could breathe without pain.
The moment his body relaxed, something stirred deep within him.
A faint warmth. A pulse of energy, like an ember struggling to ignite into a flame.
It was subtle. So subtle he almost missed it. But once he noticed it, the sensation became impossible to ignore.
Yang Kai's eyes snapped open.
"This...?"
What was that feeling? It did not match anything in the original Yang Kai's memories. It was not World Energy. It was not Qi. It was something else entirely.
He focused inward.
His consciousness dove into his body. Past the flesh and bone. Past the meridians and dantian. Deeper, to the very core of his being.
A gift.
The word surfaced in his mind unbidden. This was not something he had cultivated. Not something he had earned through training.
This was something given to him.
He had felt something earlier during the fight with Zhou Ding Jun. The way his body endured, how his mind remained clear despite the pain. At the time, he thought it was adrenaline or sheer stubbornness. But now, he knew better.
The new Yang Kai's memories clarified everything. The old man in the void. The golden wheel. The promise of immortality.
It had not been a dream.
Something within him was keeping him alive.
His endurance in the fight had been superhuman. Tempered Body Third Stage cultivators did not normally withstand beatings from Fifth Stage opponents. They certainly did not get up repeatedly after being knocked down.
Yet he had.
Something, something unnatural.
The word carried weight. In a world of cultivation where supernatural abilities were normal, for something to be considered unnatural was significant.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated. Slowly, he traced the sensation, trying to understand the source.
It was like following a thread through darkness. The energy was there, faint but persistent, woven into the very fabric of his existence.
Memories flickered. And then, clarity.
The void. The encounter. The gift.
The Immortality.
Those words echoed through his consciousness. Immortality. So long as even one person remembers you, you shall never truly perish.
It was real.
The old man had not lied. The gift was not metaphorical. It was literal, tangible, and currently active within his body.
But it was not limitless.
Yang Kai understood that immediately. This was not absolute immortality. Not the kind that made you invincible. This was conditional immortality, bound by memory.
Yang Kai's lips curled into a bitter smile.
Understanding brought both relief and frustration. Relief that he would not easily die. Frustration that the gift had limits he did not fully understand.
"Through this I will never die, no matter how much I get beaten."
The realization was both comforting and concerning. He could endure. He could survive. No matter how many times Zhou Ding Jun or anyone else beat him down, he would get back up.
That was the gift's strength.
But, he was still weak.
And if he kept relying on this so called gift, he would remain weak.
Immortality without strength was just prolonged suffering. He would become an eternal punching bag. Living forever but achieving nothing.
"I may not die from my wounds, but I can still lose. I can still feel pain. And pain alone is not strength."
The truth was harsh but necessary to acknowledge. The gift would keep him alive but would not make him powerful. Power still required cultivation, training, and effort.
He had been given a safety net, not a ladder to heaven.
He exhaled slowly. If this was the power he had been given, he would use it. Not to endure defeat, but to break through his limits.
The gift removed his greatest constraint. Fear of death. Fear of permanent injury. With immortality backing him, he could push harder, train longer, and take risks that would be suicidal for others.
No more losing.
The declaration resonated through his being. One hundred and forty seven defeats. That record would stand as a monument to the old Yang Kai's perseverance.
But the new Yang Kai would not add to it.
No more waiting.
Waiting for talent to manifest. Waiting for luck to change. Waiting for some miraculous opportunity to fall into his lap.
He would take action. Seize opportunities. Force change through sheer determination and knowledge from two lifetimes.
For the first time since arriving in this world, a fire burned in his chest.
Not the fire of desperation. Not the dying embers of fading hope. But true fire. The flame of ambition backed by knowledge and power.
Yang Kai would not lose again.
Each defeat had taught the original Yang Kai nothing except that defeat was inevitable. But each future fight would teach the new Yang Kai how to win.
And whoever god had given him this gift, or fate itself, would one day see that he had earned it.
The old man in the void had called Yang Kai's death a mistake. Had granted him a second chance out of responsibility and perhaps pity.
That pity would be justified. The gift would not be wasted. Yang Kai would climb from the bottom of High Heaven Pavilion to its peak, and then beyond.
He was done being weak.
The journey to the peak of the Martial Dao started now.
With battered body but unbroken will, Yang Kai began to plan his next steps. The gift of immortality was just the beginning.
Now he needed strength to back it up.