The city's lights pulsed like a heart made of neon and steel. Skyscrapers scraped the cloudy night sky. Drone-billboards flew through the air with holograms shouting, "Upgrade your future today!"
Lin Xian ignored all of it.
Barefoot, dressed in a hospital gown that fluttered in the cold wind, he walked down the busy sidewalk like he belonged there. People passed by in coats and hoodies, too distracted by screens or too tired from life to notice the strange young man.
A few glanced at him, but their eyes slid off like rain on glass. Something about him made them feel... wrong. Uncomfortable. As if the air around him vibrated just a little too sharply.
Lin Xian's stomach growled again.
"This body's mortal weakness," he muttered. "It still needs food."
He turned down a side street, then another, until he reached a narrow alley tucked between a noodle shop and an old pawn store.
The alley was lit by a buzzing yellow light. It smelled of grease and smoke. At the far end, two men in their twenties leaned against a wall, sharing a cigarette. A red scooter stood behind them.
Lin Xian walked forward, slow and steady.
One of the men looked up, frowning. "Hey. You lost, buddy?"
He was tall, with dyed blue hair and too much cologne. His friend had a sharp jawline, a knife tucked in his waistband, and eyes that instantly marked Lin Xian as prey.
Lin Xian's eyes didn't flinch. He stopped ten feet away.
"That scooter. It's yours?"
The shorter man laughed. "What, you wanna borrow it? You planning to ride it wearing a dress?"
The tall one chuckled. "Better run, hospital boy. We don't give out charity down here."
Lin Xian tilted his head slightly.
"I said I'll be taking it."
The two men went quiet.
Then the short one stepped forward, drawing the folding knife. "I'll take your tongue instead. Maybe sell you for organs."
It happened in a blink.
Lin Xian moved once.
One step forward. One hand raised.
His fingers struck the attacker's throat like a bolt of lightning. The man's eyes rolled back instantly. His body convulsed, then crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
The tall one froze, cigarette falling from his mouth.
"W-what the hell...?"
He fumbled for the metal pipe leaning against the wall.
Too slow.
Lin Xian was already there.
He grabbed the pipe as it swung, caught it between two fingers — and crushed it.
Metal shrieked. The man screamed.
Lin Xian moved his palm forward and struck his chest with a burst of Qi. Ribs cracked. The man flew backward into the dumpster with a crash, blood spraying from his mouth.
Both lay on the alley floor, moaning softly, bones broken, pride shattered.
Lin Xian didn't bother looking at them again. He walked over to the scooter, turned the key, and drove off.
The electric engine hummed as he moved through the sleeping backstreets of the city. The ride was awkward — he had never used one of these modern machines before — but he adapted quickly.
In his last life, he had ridden lightning.
This was slower. But it would do.
He drove until the city lights thinned, until the skyline was behind him and quiet roads stretched ahead. Finally, he stopped outside a crumbling old temple on the edge of a forgotten park.
Weeds had grown tall around the walls. The roof was cracked. A stone fox statue stood guard at the entrance, chipped and mossy.
Perfect.
Lin Xian pushed open the gate, parked the scooter behind a bush, and stepped inside.
The main hall of the temple smelled of dust and ash. The old wooden floor creaked under his feet. The air was still, but not dead. He could feel it — the faint trace of Qi, buried deep under concrete and time.
He sat in the center of the hall and closed his eyes.
The sounds of the city faded. His breathing slowed. His heartbeat became distant.
Then—he reached out.
His consciousness sank beneath the surface. Through the layers of cement, soil, and forgotten spirit lines, he touched the veins of the earth.
A single pulse answered him.
Still here.
Even in this corrupted age, even after centuries of silence, the spiritual flow remained. Faint. Sick. But alive.
He inhaled deeply, guiding a thread of Qi into his dantian. It was weak, dirty compared to the pure energy of the ancient world — but it was enough.
The Void Codex within his soul shimmered.
"Cultivation initiated.""Core Rebuild – 0.04%."
His body trembled. Muscles tightened. Blood rushed through him with a heat that made his skin prickle.
"Foundation Establishment… just a few days away."
Elsewhere...
In a skyscraper above Beijing, a man in a golden robe stood in front of a mirror.
He wore jade rings, a dragon tattoo coiled around his neck, and his eyes glowed faint blue.
A servant knelt behind him. "My Lord… we detected a Void signature."
The man's hand clenched. "Where?"
"District Twelve. City outskirts. Power level… fluctuating, but it registered Tier Nine."
He turned slowly. "Activate the Shadow Division. I want him dead before he forms his core."
"Yes, my Lord."
Back in the temple, Lin Xian opened his eyes.
His Qi was rising. His body was adapting. And he remembered every technique he ever learned. Every enemy. Every betrayal.
"If even one of those old clans still exists… they'll know my name again."
He stood.
Wind blew through the broken doorway, lifting dust into the moonlight.
"This world has forgotten fear."
"Let me remind them."