Ji Wuyuan sat cross-legged on the bed, back straight, breathing steady.
He didn't rush.
This body was eight years old—meridians thin, bones not fully grown, flesh still soft. Forcing cultivation too quickly was how geniuses ruined themselves before they even reached the real stages.
He guided the faint threads of qi into his dantian like a surgeon guiding a blade.
Slow.
Precise.
Controlled.
Minutes passed.
His skin warmed slightly. His blood began to move with more strength. His heartbeat grew steadier, heavier, like it had gained weight.
Then—
A sharp prickling sensation spread through his limbs.
His bones gave off a faint cracking sound, like ice shifting on a lake.
Ji Wuyuan opened his eyes.
Body Tempering Realm — First Stage.
Not enough.
Not even close.
But it was a start.
And in cultivation, a start was everything.
He exhaled, letting the qi settle, preparing to circulate again—
When pain suddenly stabbed into his skull.
Not the dull ache of fatigue.
Not the soreness of cultivation.
This was something foreign—like a needle pushing into the core of his soul.
His fingers twitched.
His vision blurred.
Then words appeared in the air before him.
Cold.
Silent.
Ancient.
Not written in ink, but carved into existence itself.
[War Archive System — Bound.][Host: Ji Wuyuan.][Soul age: 24.][Body age: 8.][World layer: Low Realm.][Authority: Sealed.][Initializing…]
Ji Wuyuan stared at the floating script without a flicker of panic.
A system.
So his rebirth wasn't Heaven's mercy.
It was a mechanism.
A tool.
Or a trap.
His gaze sharpened.
Everything in cultivation came with a price. Even miracles demanded blood.
The words shifted again.
[First activation detected.][Founder Authority recognized.][Newbie Package: "Founder's War Authority" — Available.][Open?]
Ji Wuyuan didn't answer immediately.
He looked at the words as if they were a person sitting across from him.
Then he spoke, voice calm.
"Open."
The lantern flame flickered violently.
The air in the room seemed to compress, heavy and cold, like an invisible mountain had descended.
A black page unfolded before his eyes, like a book made from night itself.
Not cheerful.
Not friendly.
No childish tone.
It was a war record.
A ledger that counted lives as numbers.
[War Archive — First Page]Merit: 0Clan Authority: DormantArmy Seed: LockedSubordinate Slots: 0/3Resources: None
Then a line appeared, simple and brutal:
[Core Principle: The stronger the clan, the stronger the host.][The stronger the host, the greater the clan's ceiling.]
Ji Wuyuan's eyes narrowed slightly.
A feedback loop.
A system that demanded growth.
Not kindness.
Not righteousness.
Power.
This wasn't made for heroes.
It was made for founders.
For conquerors.
For the kind of existence that turned sects into ash and rewrote history with blood.
Another line appeared.
[Newbie Package: Founder's War Authority — Claiming…]
The page rippled.
And then the "reward" wasn't one thing.
It was four.
Four items, each one carrying a pressure that made the room feel too small.
[Reward 1: Founder-Grade Subordinate — Summon Available.][Reward 2: Heaven-Grade Spirit Spring (Sealed) — Stored.][Reward 3: Body Tempering Supreme Manual — "Nine Tribulation Ironbone Art" — Stored.][Reward 4: Nightveil Token — Shadow Slots: 0/9 — Stored.]
Ji Wuyuan's pupils tightened.
This…
This was more like it.
A spirit spring alone could make a small clan rise.
A supreme body manual was something sects would slaughter entire cities for.
And the "Nightveil Token"—even without slots filled—felt like a seed of something far darker.
But Ji Wuyuan's gaze fixed on the first reward.
Founder-grade subordinate.
That was the kind of "unfairness" that could truly change a fate written by Heaven.
[Summon Founder Subordinate?]
Ji Wuyuan's voice was quiet.
"Summon."
The room darkened.
Not because the lantern died.
Because the shadows deepened.
They thickened like ink poured into water, gathering in the corner of the room, twisting into a human outline.
Then a figure stepped out of the darkness.
He didn't "appear."
He arrived—as if he had always existed, and the world had simply been forced to acknowledge him.
Black armor, fitted and silent, without a single unnecessary decoration.
A half-mask of dark metal covered the upper face, leaving only a pair of eyes visible.
Those eyes were calm.
Not emotionless.
Calm like a blade resting in its sheath.
The pressure he carried was sharp enough to make Ji Wuyuan's skin tighten.
This was not Body Tempering.
Not Qi Refining.
This was a realm that stood above the weak.
The figure knelt, one knee touching the floor with absolute obedience.
"Shadow Court Executor," he said, voice low and steady. "Wei Yan greets Master."
Ji Wuyuan's gaze didn't move.
He didn't show surprise.
But his mind recorded everything.
The posture.
The breathing.
The way the qi around Wei Yan was restrained but dense, like a deep lake.
This was a man who had killed enough people to make death feel normal.
The system screen updated.
[Founder Subordinate: Wei Yan]Rank: Gold Star]Realm: Foundation Establishment Peak]Role: Shadow Court Executor]Talent: Shadow Thread Divine Sense]Loyalty: Absolute]Authority: Can command "Nightveil" units once unlocked]
Foundation Establishment Peak.
In a low-level world, this was the kind of realm that made city lords bow and sect elders hesitate.
If Wei Yan walked through the Ji Clan gates openly, the entire clan would shake.
Ji Wuyuan's lips curved faintly.
Not happiness.
Satisfaction.
Because for the first time, he felt the balance tilt.
Fang Chen had fate.
Ji Wuyuan now had something else.
A war inheritance.
A hidden blade from a higher world.
He looked directly at Wei Yan.
"You already have a name."
Wei Yan lowered his head slightly. "The system grants it."
Ji Wuyuan's voice was calm.
"Good. Names matter. They bind identity. They bind loyalty."
Wei Yan remained silent, waiting.
Ji Wuyuan's gaze sharpened.
"From today onward, you belong to me—not to the past, not to the Archive, not to anyone else."
Wei Yan's voice did not waver.
"My blade is yours."
Ji Wuyuan nodded once.
Then he spoke his first order.
Not dramatic.
Not emotional.
A clean command, like a ruler placing the first stone of a fortress.
"Find the traitor inside the Ji Clan."
Wei Yan didn't ask why.
He didn't ask how.
He simply answered:
"As you command."
Ji Wuyuan's eyes turned cold.
Because he remembered clearly.
That night, the gates had opened from the inside.
The protective formation had been disabled at the perfect moment.
Patrol routes had been avoided like someone had drawn Fang Chen a map.
That wasn't luck.
That wasn't fate.
That was betrayal.
And betrayal always came from within.
Ji Wuyuan looked back at the War Archive page.
The rewards were stored, but he could already feel their weight.
A sealed spirit spring meant a cultivation base for elites.
A supreme body manual meant his foundation would become monstrous.
A Nightveil Token meant that even if protagonists had "luck"…
Ji Wuyuan would have shadows.
He whispered softly, the words barely audible.
"In this life… I will not be hunted."
He lifted his gaze, calm and sharp.
"I will hunt."
Outside, dawn began to rise.
And somewhere far away, the first protagonist of the coming era was still weak, still nameless, still mortal.
Ji Wuyuan smiled faintly.
A smile that could fool elders, servants, even friends.
A smile that made him look like the perfect young master.
Kind.
Gentle.
Harmless.
But inside—
Something deeper stirred.
Something like an abyss reopening.