"Young Master Lin, please wake up! The sect evaluation begins in two hours!"

  Lin Feng's voice carried a mix of urgency and resignation. The attendant had spent years serving the Lin family's third son—but something in his young master's eyes this morning seemed... different.

  Lin Tian sat up slowly, his gaze sweeping across the modest chamber with an intensity that made Lin Feng step back.

  "So, you're saying that I am the third son of the Lin family?" Lin Tian's question hung in the air, strange and disorienting.

  Lin Feng's brow furrowed. "Young Master?"

  "And this is the Celestial Dragon Sect in the Eastern Cultivation Realms." Lin Tian's voice carried weight beyond his sixteen years. "The Mortal Realm of Latvaria doesn't even exist."

  A chill ran down Lin Feng's spine.

  Qi deviation?

  He had heard whispers of such afflictions—cultivators whose minds fractured under spiritual pressure, leading to delusions or personality changes. But Lin Tian had barely begun cultivation. His spiritual core was hardly developed enough to suffer deviation.

  Lin Feng cleared his throat. "Young Master, today is the sect's quarterly evaluation. Elder Zhou has warned that if you fail to demonstrate progress in your cultivation, you might lose your place entirely." He hesitated. "It's your third evaluation, so perhaps if you could at least show some improvement—"

  "There is something more important than that."

  The interruption was startling. The young master had never cut him off before—had always been desperate for advice, for any sliver of hope that might preserve his position.

  "Take me to the Sect's archives." Lin Tian rose with fluid grace that seemed entirely foreign to his usual clumsy movements. "It is more important for me to understand the cultivation methods of this world in which I will be living, than to participate in an evaluation I am unprepared for."

  Lin Feng stared, dumbfounded. The young master, who had lived in the Celestial Dragon Sect for over a decade, spoke as if he were a complete newcomer.

  The Trash of the Lin Family.

  That cruel nickname followed Lin Tian throughout the sect. While his elder brother had risen to become an outer sect elder and his younger siblings had reached the fifth level of Qi Condensation, Lin Tian struggled with even the most basic techniques.

  Yet something in those eyes now...

  "I understand, Young Master."

  The outer disciples' archive pavilion stood at the edge of the sect grounds—a modest wooden structure that had seen better days. After the last spirit beast incursion, many original texts had been destroyed, and the precious remaining scrolls were reserved for core disciples.

  The wooden door creaked ominously as Lin Feng pushed it open. Dust particles danced in the shafts of morning sunlight that penetrated the grimy windows.

  "Do you really want to browse these basic cultivation manuals?" Lin Feng asked, unable to hide his confusion. "If it's advanced techniques you're seeking, perhaps one of the sect elders—"

  "It's fine."

  Lin Tian strode purposefully into the dusty chamber, his pristine white sect robes immediately collecting smudges of gray. Lin Feng winced, waiting for the inevitable complaint—the young master was notorious for his obsession with appearance, for using his family's modest status to demand special treatment.

  But the complaint never came.

  Lin Tian moved between the shelves with purpose, examining worn scrolls with calculating eyes. His fingers traced ancient bindings with reverence rather than disgust.

  "These contain only entry-level breathing techniques and basic meridian exercises," Lin Feng ventured, hoping to redirect his young master's inexplicable interest. "All outer disciples master these within their first three years. They offer little advantage for today's evaluation."

  The archive's condition was pitiful. Thick dust covered everything, making breathing difficult. Cobwebs stretched across corners and between shelves like silver nets waiting to ensnare the unwary.

  "Wait outside," Lin Tian commanded suddenly.

  Lin Feng couldn't hide his surprise but found himself obeying without question.

  Through the open doorway, he watched as Lin Tian approached the elderly archive keeper dozing in the corner. The old man looked up with visible astonishment as Lin Tian addressed him.

  "Young Master Lin shows interest in our basic texts?" The old archivist's voice carried clearly through the still air.

  "Sit and share your knowledge with me," Lin Tian gestured to a chair opposite his own. "I need to understand everything about the Celestial Dragon Sect—what cultivation paths exist here and which techniques are most valued."

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  The old archivist hesitated, clearly confused by the notorious failure's sudden scholarly interest.

  "Please begin now," Lin Tian added with gentle insistence, unrolling an ancient text before him.

  Lin Feng watched in fascination as the old man's hesitation dissolved under Lin Tian's unexpectedly charismatic attention.

  "The Celestial Dragon Sect was originally founded by the Immortal Cultivator Feng Long," the archivist began, his voice gathering strength. "He discovered a method to harness the spiritual energy of the five elements through the Azure Dragon meridian system..."

  As the old man spoke of wars and cultivation breakthroughs, Lin Tian listened with intense focus, occasionally asking questions that revealed unexpected insight.

  Lin Feng retreated a few paces from the doorway, lost in thought.

  Lin Tian, who is this person you've become?

  But Lin Tian was no longer Lin Tian.

  In his mind, he was Edward Reinhart—Emperor of Latvaria, Unifier of the Mortal Realm, the man who had defeated gods.

  After conquering all he surveyed, after bringing peace to a world torn by immortal conflicts, Edward had sought only one thing: rest. A quiet life away from battles and responsibilities.

  Instead, he'd awakened in the body of cultivation's greatest failure.

  Is this a gift from heaven, or some punishment for rejecting ascension when the gods offered it to me?

  It didn't matter. Fate had delivered a new challenge, and Edward Reinhart had never been one to reject destiny, even when it took unexpected turns.

  He focused intently as the archivist's lengthy explanation finally wound to a close.

  "...This is all I know."

  "Thank you," Lin Tian replied, genuine gratitude in his voice. "It was a big help. We will compensate for this separately later."

  "No, Young Master Lin. Just having a conversation with someone who shows genuine interest in our sect's heritage was a pleasure for me."

  Lin Tian smiled—a smile that reached his eyes in a way the original Lin Tian's never had.

  As he rose to return to his quarters, sudden commotion erupted outside.

  Bang! Thump!

  "You worthless trash!"

  Lin Tian's steps quickened as he emerged from the archive. Lin Feng hovered nervously at his side.

  In the dusty courtyard, a group of disciples with golden-trimmed robes surrounded a smaller figure. A boy—even younger than Lin Tian's current body—lay curled on the ground as kicks and punches rained down upon him.

  "You talentless waste."

  "Just give up and leave the sect!"

  The boy made no sound despite the brutal assault. His silence seemed to fuel his tormentors' rage, their cultivation-enhanced blows precise enough to permanently damage meridians.

  A crowd had gathered, but no one intervened. Eyes shifted away whenever they met the golden trim of the attackers' robes.

  "What's going on?" Lin Tian's voice cut through the sounds of violence.

  "Young Master!" Lin Feng gripped his arm, panic evident. "They're Inner Sect disciples—a group known for 'testing' weaker students. The boy likely failed to show proper respect. We should pretend we didn't see this. There's nothing good about getting tangled with them."

  Lin Tian's gaze swept over the scene, assessing with the practiced eye of a battlefield commander.

  Bullying. The eternal plague of hierarchical systems. The strong oppressing the weak simply because they could.

  The problem is that such punishment should not be administered by fellow disciples.

  This was the Celestial Dragon Sect. As the archivist had explained, disputes were meant to be judged by sect elders, not resolved through unauthorized violence.

  Lin Tian still hadn't figured out how to inhabit this new identity. But one thing was certain: the original Lin Tian was gone.

  Upon awakening, he had discovered cultivation pills scattered across the floor—stolen, apparently—along with a half-written suicide note. The contents revealed a young man driven to desperation, unable to bear the humiliation of failing another evaluation, knowing his family had sent him as sacrificial fodder because his talented siblings were too valuable to risk.

  From now on, I am Lin Tian.

  The previous life lay behind him. No matter what reputation the boy had earned, from this moment forward, he would follow the values of Edward Reinhart.

  "Stop."

  The single word carried the authority of an emperor.

  "Young... young Master!" Lin Feng reached for him, but it was too late.

  The Inner Sect disciples turned, momentarily stunned by the interruption. Then recognition dawned.

  "Lin Tian?" The leader stepped forward, a cold smile spreading across his face. "Don't mind this, Trash Young Master Lin. We will finish our business here."

  "Tsk, trying to act brave because his family has connections."

  "Stop it, he says. Hahaha, useless waste."

  Whispers and laughter rippled through the group. The fallen boy remained motionless, blood trickling from his nose, bruises darkening across his exposed skin.

  Lin Feng's voice was barely audible. "Young Master Lin, we have to return. The Inner Sect disciples have the backing of powerful elders. If a problem arises here, not even your family connections can protect you..."

  "Lin Feng."

  Lin Tian's calm voice silenced him instantly. There was something in that tone—a resonance of power that made Lin Feng's hair stand on end.

  "I don't know the rules of this sect very well yet. So, please explain. Who has violated the sect's principles here? And for breaking these principles, what kind of response is appropriate?"

  Lin Feng felt caught in Lin Tian's gaze. The pathetic young master who had failed at every cultivation challenge now projected a presence he couldn't resist.

  Against all wisdom, Lin Feng heard himself answering truthfully.

  "The boy was guilty of walking on the wrong path reserved for Inner Sect disciples. It deserves correction, but these disciples have no right to administer punishment directly. Above all, they dared to speak insulting words against a recognized disciple of the Celestial Dragon Sect on sect grounds. According to sect rules, they should receive formal discipline from the elders."

  Lin Feng bowed his head, heart pounding, legs trembling.

  The onlookers held their breath. Smirks spread across the faces of the Inner Sect disciples.

  Lin Tian stepped forward.

  While everyone watched, he picked up a wooden practice sword from a nearby weapon rack and pointed it at the Inner Sect disciples. His stance was perfect—balanced, centered, the weapon an extension of his arm rather than a separate object.

  "You have violated the sect's principles. From now on, as Lin Tian of the Celestial Dragon Sect, I will demonstrate how true disciples should conduct themselves."

  The sword gleamed in the morning sunlight, and for one impossible moment, observers would later swear they saw the shadow of a dragon coiling around the practice blade.