The first sensation was the impossibly soft feel of silk against my cheek. The second was the familiar scent of moonpetal incense that always graced my personal courtyard. My eyes fluttered open to the sight of the polished mahogany ceiling of my own room in the Su Family Estate. Everything was calm. Everything was peaceful.
And everything was wrong.
The last thing I remembered was the unimaginable pain of a sword piercing my back. I remembered the metallic taste of blood filling my throat, the chilling cold that spread through my limbs as my life force drained away. I remembered twisting my head to see the face of my own sister, Su Lian, her expression was of reptilian satisfaction. Beyond her, I saw Jin Hao, the so-called Alchemist Sovereign, his face a mask of triumph as he watched me fall.
I had died. I was certain of it.
Panic surged through me. I sat up with a gasp, my hands flying to my own back, my chest, my Dantian. There was no wound. My white sleeping robes were pristine. My skin was smooth and unblemished. I focused my senses inward, feeling the flow of spiritual energy through my meridians. It was there, a flowing river, but it was weaker than it should be. It was the power of a cultivator at the Late Stage of Foundation Establishment. I had died at the Peak of the Nascent Soul realm.
I threw the silk blanket aside and scrambled out of bed, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My legs felt younger, less powerful, but they carried me swiftly to the bronze mirror in the corner.
The face that stared back was mine, but it was a version of me I hadn't seen in decades. The face of a young woman, barely twenty, her features holding a youthful softness that had long been weathered away by a lifetime of pain, loss, and relentless cultivation. The tell-tale mark of a Nascent Soul expert's transcendent spirit was absent from my eyes.
This was me, before everything had gone wrong.
My eyes darted to the ornate calendar hanging on my wall, a gift from my father. My breath caught in my throat as I read the elegant script.
Era of Ascension, Year 7,888. Month of Awakening, Day 23.
The date was a brand seared into my soul. It was the day the patriarchs of the Chen and Su families were scheduled to meet. It was the day before Jin Hao, the architect of all my misery, would arrive in Clearwater City. It was less than a week before my sister, Su Lian, would also arrive, beginning the chain of events that would lead to ruin.
I was reborn.
The realization brought a shuddering, all-consuming wave of rage and grief. The memories of my past life crashed down upon me, as bleeding wounds.
I remembered Arya. My Arya. The brilliant genius of the Chen Family. The boy I had grown up with, sparred with, and loved with every fiber of my being. The man I had saved from a Shadowfang Wolf as a child, an act of courage I had kept secret, only for my sister to later steal the credit for it. I remembered watching him fall under Su Lian's spell, his misplaced gratitude twisting into an affection that blinded him to her venomous nature.
I remembered the day he died. The news had spread through Clearwater City like a plague. Jin Hao, the upstart protagonist, had crippled him and then slaughtered his family. The pain of that memory was a physical thing, a crushing weight on my soul that a ten years of cultivation had never managed to ease.
My path in that life had been forged in the fire of that grief. I had cultivated like a madwoman, my only purpose being revenge. I had become a legend, a terrifying sword fairy who hunted Jin Hao to the ends of the continent. I had cornered him. I was stronger. I was about to deliver the killing blow.
And then, the blade in my back. From my own sister. "He is the future, Meira," she had whispered, her voice laced with the same false sweetness she had used to fool Arya. "You are just the past."
I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. My breathing was ragged, my vision blurring with unshed tears of pure fury.
No. Not again.
"I will not let it happen again," I whispered, my voice a low growl.
In my last life, I was a silent guardian, a passive observer until it was too late. I watched the tragedy unfold, my warnings falling on deaf ears. This time, I would not be silent. This time, I would be the one to shape destiny.
I knew my father and Chen Tianyuan were meeting today. In the original timeline, they would have discussed Su Lian. Her beauty and supposed charm made her the more politically advantageous choice in their eyes. But I knew the truth. An alliance with her was an alliance with a viper.
I would not allow it.
Without a moment's hesitation, I stormed out of my room, my sleeping robes swirling around me. I didn't care about decorum. I marched directly to my father's study, my mind a storm of hard resolve. The guards, shocked at my disheveled appearance and the killing intent rolling off me in waves, did not dare to stop me.
I pushed the doors open without knocking.
My father, Su Mingyan, was sitting at his desk, reviewing scrolls. He was a Peak Golden Core expert, a wise and pragmatic leader. He looked up, his expression of surprise quickly turning to concern as he saw my face.
"Meira? What is it? What has happened?"
I walked to his desk and placed my hands flat upon it, leaning forward. There was no time for subtlety. "Father," I said, my voice perfectly level, devoid of any pleading. "You are meeting with Patriarch Chen today."
He blinked, taken aback by my directness. "I am. We are discussing matters of great importance to our families."
"I know," I said. "You are discussing a marriage alliance. You are considering offering Su Lian."
My father's eyes narrowed. "How did you—"
"It doesn't matter how I know," I interrupted, my gaze unwavering. "What matters is that it is the wrong choice. Su Lian is not worthy of the Chen Family, and she will bring only ruin upon us. I will not allow it."
"Meira," he began, his tone a mix of admonishment and confusion. "Your sister—"
"I will be the bride," I stated, the words like stones. "Offer me. I want to marry Arya Chen."
He was shocked into silence. I had always been the quiet one, the dutiful daughter who never asked for anything. To make such a bold demand was completely out of character.