The rain hadn't let up all day.
Shen Tian wrapped his jacket tighter around his shoulders, squinting through the downpour as he hurried across the street. The flickering city lights reflected off the soaked pavement, creating a blurry mess of red, white, and gold.
He was tired—exhausted, really. University life was brutal. Lectures in the morning, part-time work in the evening, and exams always lurking just around the corner. It was the same loop every day.
He was just another face in the crowd. No talent, no family connections, no future.
All he really had was escapism—novels, cultivation fantasies, dreams of being a main character in a world where power determined everything.
And then, with a screech of tires and a flash of headlights, reality ended.
The truck didn't stop.
The pain didn't last.
All that remained was silence.
---
Something strange followed. Not darkness. Not nothingness.
A weightless sensation overtook him, as if he were falling endlessly through an invisible tunnel. His senses dulled. His thoughts slowed. Even fear was washed away by something larger—something eternal.
He wasn't just dead.
He was… leaving.
His soul—his very being—was unraveling and reforming at once, like a page being burned and redrawn simultaneously.
---
He awoke with a scream.
His lungs filled with air so sharp and clean it hurt. His body thrashed, unfamiliar muscles twitching in ways that didn't match what he remembered.
And then he felt warm hands holding him still.
"Tian'er! Thank the heavens—you're awake!"
A woman's voice. Soft, cracked with worry. Foreign, yet… somehow comforting.
He blinked against the soft sunlight filtering through a wooden window. The ceiling above him was low and made of rough-hewn planks. The bed was stiff, the sheets coarse and patched.
Slowly, he turned his head.
A woman—thin, with gentle eyes and worry etched into every line of her face—held his hand tightly. Her clothes were simple and faded, her hands rough from labor.
"I… where am I? Who am I?" he croaked, voice weak and strangely high.
She flinched.
"You don't remember? You're Shen Tian. You fell into the cold spring two days ago. The fever nearly—"
Her voice broke.
Shen Tian.
The name echoed in his mind, bouncing off half-formed memories and the fog of confusion. Then he noticed the body he was in. Small. Frail. No older than a young child.
Not his.
A heavy silence settled in his chest as the pieces clicked together.
He had died.
And now… he was someone else.
---
It took several days before his condition stabilized. The fever passed, though the fog in his mind lingered. He learned quickly, quietly, trying not to draw suspicion.
His name in this world was indeed Shen Tian. No clan, no prestige.
Just a servant's son.
His mother, Shen Mei—whom everyone called Aunt Mei—worked in the Xiao Clan's outer residence. She cleaned floors, prepared meals, and washed laundry for the clan's main branch.
They lived in a narrow room at the edge of the servants' quarters—a place so far from power and privilege, it might as well have been another world.
The Xiao Clan.
Shen Tian remembered the name from the stories he'd read in his old life. It used to be a powerful clan on the Dou Qi Continent. Wutan City. Cultivation. Alchemy. Dou Qi techniques.
Xiao Yan.
That name struck something deep in his memory. The young genius whose tale began in weakness and humiliation… only to rise above all.
And now, Shen Tian was here.
Alive.
In the same clan.
And, from what he could gather, the same age.
---
He said nothing of his past life, of course. He wasn't sure if this was reincarnation, transmigration, or some cosmic joke—but it was real. The smells, the voices, the ache of sore muscles after chores, and the rumble of hunger in his belly all confirmed it.
Every night, after his mother had fallen asleep, Shen Tian would sit under the tiny window and stare at the stars. The skies of this world were vast and ancient. Unlike the hazy gray of the city, the heavens here were deep and endless—filled with light and promise.
But also danger.
This was not a world ruled by law or morality. Here, strength was everything. Status came from power, and the weak were forgotten.
And he… was the lowest of the low.
No clan. No cultivation. No prospects.
Even other servant children looked down on him. In the eyes of the clan, he was nothing more than the shadow of a servant. Barely worth noticing.
But Shen Tian didn't despair.
He had lived in a world where hard work meant little, where talent was defined by wealth or pedigree. But here, even though he was starting at the bottom, there was one crucial difference:
He knew this world.
He remembered Xiao Yan's rise. The secrets of Dou Qi. The existence of Heavenly Flames, powerful cultivation methods, hidden bloodlines. This wasn't fiction anymore. It was real.
And though he had no cheats, no "golden finger"—not yet—he had time.
---
Years passed in this way. Slowly. Quietly.
Shen Tian grew into his new life with resolve. He helped his mother with chores, ran errands, scrubbed floors, and fetched water. He listened carefully whenever the elders of the clan spoke. He watched the children of the main branch train in their basic Dou Qi techniques, memorizing every movement.
Every night, when others slept, he mimicked those forms in the dark courtyard behind the servants' quarters. His body was weak, but his will was unbreakable.
He sought no glory.
He craved no shortcuts.
Only progress.
He didn't aim to be flashy. He didn't dream of instant power.
He only wanted to be ready.
Because one day, the world would change.
One day, he would change.
And when that time came, he wouldn't just follow the path left behind by Xiao Yan.
He would forge his own.
___________________________
I hope you guys liked this chapter!🙂