The last thing I remembered was the sterile blue light of my monitor. It was three in the morning, and a storm was raging outside my window, the rhythmic drumming of rain a poor lullaby for my exhausted mind. My phone was warm in my hand, its screen glowing with the latest chapter of a webnovel I'd been devouring for days: Alchemist Sovereign.
It was a generic story, really. A checklist of tropes, but a comforting and addictive one. The protagonist, Jin Hao, was a transmigrator from Earth, just like the heroes of a hundred other novels. He started as a downtrodden youth, acquired a cheat in the form of an ancient alchemist's soul trapped in a ring, and began a meteoric rise to the top. He was petty, driven by jealousy, and yet every one of his ruthless actions was framed as a righteous struggle against the arrogant villains of the world.
I felt no connection to him. My sympathy was reserved for the story's primary antagonist.
His name was Arya Chen. The same as mine. He was the number one genius of his clan, blessed with a Heaven Grade physique and a Heaven Grade bloodline. He was powerful, handsome, and by all accounts, not a fundamentally evil person. His downfall was rooted in a tragic mistake. The book described a childhood incident where he was saved from a beast, and he mistakenly came to believe his savior was a manipulative, two-faced girl named Su Lian. Doting on her out of misplaced gratitude, he made an enemy of the protagonist, Jin Hao, who had fallen in love with Su Lian at first sight.
In the end, Jin Hao killed him. He crushed his Golden Core, led the charge to annihilate his family, and took Su Lian for himself. Arya Chen died as a stepping stone, his entire existence—his power, his family, his tragic mistake—reduced to a chapter in a hero's glorious saga.
"What a waste," I muttered, my thumb hovering over the screen. I felt a strange kinship with the character. To have everything, to be a good person at your core, and to lose it all over a manipulated misunderstanding was a fate of exquisite cruelty. My vision blurred, the words on the screen swimming into an incoherent mess. A profound wave of dizziness washed over me, sudden and overwhelming. My phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the cheap laminate floor. The world tilted, the blue light of my monitor stretching into an infinite tunnel. Darkness consumed me.
A scent of rich sandalwood filled my nostrils.
It was the first thing I registered, a calming aroma that was utterly alien. The last thing I smelled was the stale air of my cramped apartment.
The second thing I felt was a profound comfort. I was lying on a surface that was impossibly soft, something far more luxurious than my worn-out mattress. A heavy blanket, woven from what could only be the finest silk, was draped over me. It was warm, its weight grounding.
My eyes fluttered open.
Above me was not a water-stained plaster ceiling, but a canopy of azure silk, embroidered with breathtakingly intricate patterns of silver clouds. Sunlight streamed in from a latticed window to my left, casting gentle rays across the room. The light was filtered through what looked like fine paper. I pushed myself into a sitting position, the silk blanket pooling around my waist. The room was large and elegant, its design ancient and ornate. The walls were made of polished wood that gleamed with a deep luster. A low table sat in the center of the room, upon which rested a delicate ceramic tea set. A scroll depicting a soaring vermillion phoenix hung on the far wall, its brushstrokes so vivid it seemed ready to leap from the paper.
Panic tried to claw its way up my throat. I forced it down with a ragged breath. Panic was a useless luxury. I needed information, and I needed it now.
I looked down at myself. I was wearing white sleeping robes made of the same impossibly high-quality silk. I flexed my hands. They were mine, and yet they were not. They were longer, the fingers more slender and unblemished, the skin flawless and pale. There were no keyboard calluses, no small scars from a clumsy childhood. These hands were perfect, radiating a latent strength.
I pushed the blanket aside and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My feet met the smooth wood of the floor. When I stood, the movement was effortless. My body felt impossibly light, yet at the same time, grounded and immensely powerful. A subtle energy hummed beneath my skin, a dormant river of force that I could feel in every muscle, every bone, every cell. I was tall, significantly taller than my old self. I walked across the room towards a polished bronze mirror standing in the corner. Each step was perfectly balanced, imbued with an innate grace I had never possessed.
I stood before the mirror and finally looked at my reflection.
The reflection showed a young man of about twenty-one. He was tall, well over six feet, with a lean but powerful frame that spoke of years of rigorous martial training. His face was arrestingly handsome, with aristocratic features, a straight nose, and a strong jawline that gave him an air of natural confidence. His hair was the color of jet, shimmering with a faint crimson hue in the sunlight. His eyes were the most striking feature. They were deep and dark, like obsidian, and seemed to hold a dormant fire within their depths.
I knew this face. I had seen it described in countless paragraphs, imagined it in my mind, even seen it depicted in fan art for the novel.
PS:
The Path of Cultivation
1. Qi Condensation Realm
Stage 1: Mortal Foundation
Division: First Layer to Tenth Layer
2. Foundation Establishment Realm
Stage 1: Mortal Foundation
Division: The 4-stage system - Initial Stage, Middle Stage, Late Stage, Peak Stage
3. Golden Core Realm
Stage 2: The Golden Path
Division: The 4-stage system - Initial Stage, Middle Stage, Late Stage, Peak Stage
4. Nascent Soul Realm
Stage 2: The Golden Path
Division: The 4-stage system - Initial Stage, Middle Stage, Late Stage, Peak Stage
5. Soul Transformation Realm
Stage 3: The Ascendant Path
Division: The 4-stage system - Initial Stage, Middle Stage, Late Stage, Peak Stage
6. Mahayana Realm
Stage 3: The Ascendant Path
Division: The 4-stage system - Initial Stage, Middle Stage, Late Stage, Peak Stag