Nuoding Academy was quiet under the orange veil of sunset. Students had retreated to their dorms, and silence blanketed the outer yards. In this stillness, a young boy sat cross-legged on the cold stone of the dormitory balcony. Tang San. Barely six, yet his posture was straight, shoulders relaxed, breath calm.
But inside, his mind churned like a roaring sea.
He had been reborn.
Not by chance, nor by fate. It was the mysterious black stone—a relic not of this world—that had triggered his reincarnation. It had shattered the cycle of Samsara and brought him back to the body of his younger self. But more than that, it had left a seed behind. A technique.
It had no name.
When he had first awakened in this body weeks ago, memories intact, he had sensed the foreign flow within his sea of spirit. Different from the gentle soul power he once cultivated, this new current was sharp, cold, and... limitless.
> "This is no ordinary cultivation method," Tang San had realized in those early days. "This technique doesn't simply amplify soul power. It evolves my foundation. It reshapes my talent."
But it did so slowly, carefully, subtly.
Each day he practiced it, layering it beneath his normal Mysterious Heaven Skill cultivation, he could feel the transformation. At first, he merely noticed an easier flow of qi. Then, better absorption from meditation. A week later, his affinity with spirit energy had become sharper—his perception of natural elements more precise.
His talent was slowly rising beyond the tenth level barrier, which meant he could someday surpass the limitations imposed on even geniuses. But none of it was instant. It was a forging, not a gift.
---
Earlier that day, Instructor Su Yuntao had visited again to inspect his progress. Though Tang San had already awakened his spirit—Blue Silver Grass, just like in the past life—he hadn't yet sought his first spirit ring. That would come soon. Too soon, in fact. Xiao Wu had arrived yesterday, her playful antics reminding him of the road that lay ahead.
Yet this time, the path would bend.
As he continued meditating, the Mysterious Heaven Skill circulated naturally. But beneath it, like a second heartbeat, the secret technique flowed. It moved through hidden meridians, feeding not just soul power, but his very talent. Not the strength he had now, but the potential for future growth.
Tang San could already tell—when he eventually broke past level 40, no one at the same level would compare.
---
The next morning dawned crisp. He woke before the sun, trained his physical body through methodical movements in the training field, and then returned to his dorm to find Xiao Wu perched on his bed like a curious rabbit.
"You get up so early! Are you a rooster spirit?" she teased.
Tang San offered a small smile. "Habit. Training is easier in the quiet."
"You're weird. But I like that," she grinned and hopped down. "Let's eat!"
Though he kept his distance emotionally, he didn't reject her company. Xiao Wu's presence was a fixed star in this world. She would one day reveal her true nature. But for now, she was a bright and innocent contrast to his quietly brooding cultivation.
At breakfast, the senior students whispered about spirit beasts in the outskirts. A small hunting party had been spotted leaving with Spirit Hall uniforms. Tang San's fingers tightened around his chopsticks. Spirit Hall… again.
> "The God Realm was a prison."
Those words, carved into his mind in his final moment of ascension in his previous life, echoed like a divine warning. He had become a god—no, he had been chosen as one. A puppet crowned in gold.
This time, he would not follow their path.
He would walk his own.
---
Later that evening, he stood before the vast clearing behind Nuoding's forest edge, facing a stone with ancient inscriptions. His fingers traced them absently.
Tonight, he would attempt something no child should.
He sat down and began to cultivate both arts simultaneously.
The Mysterious Heaven Skill spiraled smoothly upward, like a calm river into a mountain lake. But the forbidden technique—the unnamed art—was a storm beneath. It ground down every impurity in his meridians. It tempered his foundation. It demanded pain.
Tang San grit his teeth. Sweat beaded across his brow.
Veins lit up faintly as soul power began swirling faster than ever before. He entered a pseudo-enlightened state. Images flickered through his mind. A ring of light. A broken chain. A throne made of ash.
And from within that vision—the black stone.
It pulsed once.
And something shifted inside him.
A faint change, but real.
His affinity—his talent—increased again.
From 10.1 to 10.2. Slowly. Inexorably. In a way that no one would detect.
He collapsed backward, panting, exhausted, but eyes burning with calm resolve.
---
The next day, a letter arrived from the Academy's main office. Grandmaster was coming.
The true beginning was about to start.
Tang San stood atop the academy walls, the wind lifting his hair.
> "This world owes me a truth. The gods above are no more than jailers. This time, I will ascend not as a chosen god, but as a sovereign. A god... without chains."
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End of Chapter 2