Chapter One: Rebirth of a Scholar

Mount Great Sunrise bathed in purple radiance from the east, the clouds veiling a wandering thread of golden light. Layer upon layer of verdant peaks shimmered with ethereal gold, licked by flickering crimson.

Dressed in the tattered garb of a destitute scholar, Yi An reached up in disbelief to rub his own cheek, muttering at his lips, “...To survive great calamity is to be blessed thereafter—so the saying truly goes.”

He was surrounded by mountains on all sides, an utterly unfamiliar landscape. Yi An rolled over and sat up, gazing about with barely contained delight. Especially after confirming that everything before him was real, an inexpressible joy flooded his heart, setting it to pounding like a drum, thundering madly within his chest.

It was a long while before he managed to compose himself, though his face still shone with exuberance.

“At last, I have become human again, just as I wished!”

This was a day he had awaited far too long—so long it defied imagination.

Yi An had once been a human, but after his death, he had inexplicably transformed into a mere wisp of consciousness. Other than being free from hunger and unable to die, he gained no new abilities. The world into which he was reborn was peculiar as well—everywhere shrouded in a gray haze. At first, he could do nothing but drift about aimlessly.

This place seemed boundless, endless; days of utter tedium stretched on for ages, so many that he lost count. Then, one day, Yi An encountered the first living being he had seen in that world—a figure named Pangu.

At first, Yi An thought it a mere coincidence, but as he grew more familiar with the being, he was astounded to realize it was indeed the very Pangu who, in his understanding, had split heaven and earth.

Only then did Yi An finally comprehend the nature of the world into which he had been reborn.

One day, the Great Dao delivered its decree. Pangu was moved, for the act of Creation was to be his path to enlightenment. In an instant, fate revealed itself; every chaotic demon god sensed the will of the Dao.

They had all been born of chaos, and chaos was their very origin. If heaven and earth were cleaved open, chaos would cease to exist, and they would lose their source. Even if they managed to slip into the nascent world, they would have to begin anew.

Thus erupted a cataclysmic war, the likes of which had never been seen before. As Pangu opened the heavens, he battled the demon gods, relying on the world-cleansing lotus for its formidable defense and the Pangu Axe for supreme might. The weaker demon gods were crushed with ease, swept away in droves. The war raged for tens of thousands of years. Dividing his attention between battle and creation, Pangu sustained grievous wounds. Even the world-cleansing lotus and the Jade Creation Disc, both innate treasures, were shattered.

With a furious roar, Pangu poured every last drop of his origin into a final blow, bringing the Pangu Axe down upon the chaos itself. The demon gods sought to halt him, but before such overwhelming power, their resistance was as futile as an insect against a chariot.

The first strike split the chaos.
The second created heaven and earth.

The boundless chaos was torn open, leaving a gaping chasm. Those demon gods closest to Pangu were shredded to pieces, body and soul, before they could even defend themselves. Some, abandoning their flesh, let their souls escape into the newly formed world—among them Hongjun, Yang Mei, and Luo Hou.

Thus ended Yi An’s first friendship, and he too entered the vast expanse of the primordial land.

In the beginning, the primordial world was as lifeless as the chaos before. But after countless eons of nurturing, the land blossomed with clear rivers and wondrous mountains, blessed realms dotting the world like fairylands.

Yet, for all this, Yi An remained unable to cultivate. Only then did he realize that a pure consciousness truly cannot cultivate. There was but one way to change this fate: to possess a physical body.

He tried countless methods, all to no avail. He had nearly given up, when, by the “help” of the Violet Heaven Thunder, he was hurled into an unknown world and unexpectedly reborn in the body of a scholar.

Yi An had previously possessed the body of a mortal cultivator. When that man faced his tribulation for ascension, he encountered a once-in-ten-thousand-years Violet Heaven Thunder. The outcome was swift—the man perished before he could withstand even a few bolts.

Though Yi An had once been immortal and indestructible, even he was dazed by the thunder’s might, and in the chaos of unstable space, he was swept into this place.

Yet fortune arose from disaster. While his new body was weak and lacked his former immortality, it held limitless potential.

Taking over this frail body, Yi An inherited its memories as well. Perhaps influenced by these memories, he felt an odd illusion that the original owner was another version of himself.

The young man’s life had been unremarkable, much like any other scholar—heedless of worldly affairs, devoted to the classics, a thorough bookworm. Curiously, his name was also Yi An. Such coincidence seemed fated.

He had grown up with only a wet nurse for family. Though he had neither father nor mother, she cared for him as if he were her own, never letting him lack for anything—their days were good.

But just yesterday, as night fell, while the young man was reading at home, several men dressed as bandits burst in. What happened next was seared into his memory.

The kindly, gentle nurse suddenly became a martial master, clashing with the intruders without yielding. In the end, she drove them off.

But matters did not end so simply. When the young scholar tried to voice his questions, the nurse stopped him, hastily pressing an old letter and an escape route into his hands. She spoke with urgency: “They will not give up so easily. Follow the route I give you. Once I deal with them, I’ll meet you at the destination. No matter what happens, do not come back. Remember, remember...”

Following her instructions, the young man traveled through the night. As he paused to catch his breath, two figures suddenly appeared ahead: one fierce and menacing, the other a peerless beauty, as if a fairy had descended to earth. One chased, one fled.

The scene stunned the young scholar. As he stood frozen, the brute lunged at him, revealing a hideous, fanged face.

The woman tried to intervene, but it was too late. The frail scholar, unprepared for such terror, died of fright on the spot—his memories ended there.

As Yi An pondered these things, a chilling voice sounded behind him:

“Yi An.”

“That wretched nurse of yours—she was truly troublesome, even managed to get our Number Two killed here.”

“But so long as you are dealt with, any price is worth it.”

Startled, Yi An whirled around to see a middle-aged man in a black robe, his face cold and sinister, gaze fixed unwaveringly upon him.

“I want to know: what is the meaning behind your actions? Are you acting on your own, or at someone’s behest?”

Yi An’s expression shifted—he was now a scholar with no weapon to hand, unable to employ any of his former arts.

“There’s no point in struggling. You cannot escape.” The black-robed man darted forward, using no fancy technique—just brute strength, aiming straight for Yi An’s chest and abdomen.

His purpose was simple: to kill.

Yi An reacted on sheer instinct—before thought could catch up, his body twisted aside, narrowly dodging the deadly blow.