Within the forested territory of the Yellow Dragon River, a young man y motionless by the riverbank. His name was Zhang Tian. With jet-bck hair, sharp eyebrows, and a handsome face, he rested there, unconscious.

  Suddenly, his body twitched. His eyes—dark as night—fluttered open, confusion clouding his expression as he scanned his surroundings. A storm of emotions churned within him. He was a man from Earth, now inhabiting this unfamiliar world… in a body that bore his very same name.

  Slowly, he pushed himself up and stood, taking in the dense forest around him.

  “It seems I’ve ended up downstream from Red Maple Vilge,” he murmured.

  The body he now inhabits belongs to a world where immortals exist—though rarely seen. The original owner had been on a journey toward a pce whispered of in rumors, a nd of opportunity.

  Once every ten years, the Water Serenity Sect holds its entrance trial, seeking fresh talent. Those born with immortal roots are given the chance to step onto the path of cultivation and transcendence.

  But reaching the sect is no simple task. The journey is perilous and unforgiving, by design. The Water Serenity Sect has deliberately concealed its location, and what little Zhang Tian knew had come through dubious, shadowy channels.

  The original owner of this body had been fleeing from a rge beast, traveling with a girl around his age. In a sudden, desperate moment, the girl shoved him into the river and leapt in after him. What became of her was unknown.

  Lying beneath the canopy, Zhang Tian gazed up at the slivers of sky visible through the foliage, where rays of sunlight pierced the leaves. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a brass pocket watch—an intricate contraption that looked retively new. Etched onto its surface was a water lily, suspended by delicate threads.

  Opening it, he found two symbols inside: a sun and a moon, joined together, with a slender pointer slowly edging toward the moon. Below that, a number ticked steadily down—from 1 to 0—marking the remaining time before the Water Serenity Sect's recruitment window closed.

  Just beneath the symbols was the device's most unique feature: a glowing arrow-shaped tracker, its head always pointing toward the direction of the sect's hidden gathering site. The body of the arrow shimmered with three segmented colors—green, yellow, and red—each representing his distance from the destination. Green indicated he was still far. Yellow meant he was closing in. Red meant he was practically there.

  Before he lost consciousness, he remembered the pointer resting in light yellow, a sign that he was getting close after nearly two months of difficult travel. But now, as he stared at the arrow, his eyes widened—the glow had deepened into dark yellow, pulsing with urgency.

  Somehow, the river—once seeming a deadly detour—had become a hidden blessing. It had carried him downstream while he was unconscious, nudging him even closer to his goal.

  The compass, a gift from the girl before their separation, was not something just anyone could acquire. She had told him, surprised and suspicious, that most competitors had family connections or sponsorship to even hear about the trial—much less receive such a device. To her, Zhang Tian’s very presence in the race was an anomaly. A mystery.

  And now, he was almost there.

  Zhang Tian suddenly shook his head, a flicker of doubt passing through him. Was this path truly meant for him? His original personality leaned toward peace, not conflict. The idea of cultivation, of fighting for power and position, cshed with the quiet life he once knew.

  Before he could dwell further, a low, guttural roar echoed through the forest behind him—distant, but not too distant. The kind that carried weight. Warning.

  Instinctively, he gnced down at the brass pocket watch still open in his hand. The pointer beneath the sun and moon symbols had edged dangerously close to the moon—only a sliver of space remained. Time was running out.

  The arrow-shaped tracker, glowing in its tri-colored pattern, now pulsed with a deep dark yellow, almost brushing red. He was close. Very close.

  Yet the forest around him seemed to thicken unnaturally. The rays of light that had once filtered gently through the canopy were now dim and fragmented, as if the trees themselves were tightening their grip on the sky. The sounds of the forest—birds, insects, distant movement—had grown louder, chaotic even. It stirred unease in his chest, feeding the anxious energy already churning within him.

  His head throbbed, the lingering pain of merging with this new body cshing with the sensory overload around him. Fatigue and tension pressed down like weights on his shoulders, and for a moment, he could feel the fragments of two lives—his former one on Earth and this new one—grinding against each other, struggling to align.

  And yet, despite everything… the arrow still pointed forward.

  Gritting his teeth, Zhang Tian pushed aside the doubt. He didn’t have the luxury of hesitation—not now. Survival came first. Staying put, especially with that roar echoing behind him, would be foolish. He needed to find somewhere safer, even if only temporarily. Anywhere but here, where the odds were clearly stacked against him.

  Without looking back, he pressed forward into the deepening gloom. The forest darkened with every step, the st remnants of sunlight fading steadily, swallowed by the dense canopy overhead. Shadows stretched longer, and the comforting dappled light from earlier was now little more than a memory.

  Thankfully, the body he now inhabited had been well-suited for such trials. The original Zhang Tian was a second-rank martial artist—young but tempered by hardship. Born an orphan, he'd lived on the streets, scavenging junk just to survive. His obsession with the old legends of immortals had driven him to venture beyond the safety of the city’s fringes, chasing stories and rumors long before he was ready. That life had sharpened his instincts, forged a natural survivor.

  Now, Zhang Tian drew on that inherited experience—the muscle memory, the bance, the breath control—all of it was his now. And it would have to be enough.

  Because whatever y ahead in the shadows had to be better than what was coming up behind.

  As Zhang Tian drew closer to the destination, the arrow-shaped tracker on his compass shifted—its glowing hue fading from dark yellow to light red. He was entering the final stretch.

  Then, behind him, a shape emerged from the shadows.

  A massive silhouette—low, sleek, and pulsing with barely restrained power—stepped into the fading light. Without hesitation, Zhang Tian activated his innate Qi technique, channeling energy through his legs. With a surge, he unched himself across a wide river, soaring through the air just as the pointer deepened to medium red.

  Landing on the far bank in a crouch, he didn’t pause. He broke into a sprint, knowing full well that the river would barely slow the creature behind him. If anything, it would only enrage it further.

  Just as he gained several dozen meters, a deafening crash echoed from the other side of the river. He risked a gnce back—and froze for half a heartbeat.

  There it was.

  A tiger, but not of any natural breed. Its enormous body was cloaked in dark purple fur, glistening beneath the filtered moonlight. Silvery, crescent-shaped stripes adorned its back, and its blood-red irises locked onto Zhang Tian with a look that sent ice down his spine. There was something unnatural in its gaze—intelligent, calcuting... almost entertained.

  It was pying with him.

  But then, the game ended.

  The tiger’s expression shifted, and Zhang Tian could feel it—its intent had sharpened. No longer amused, it was now focused.

  He turned and darted deeper into the woods, weaving through the trees with every ounce of speed and agility he could muster. Behind him, explosions of splintered wood erupted as the beast tore through the forest. Trees shattered like kindling. Shards flew past him, one slicing across his shoulder, another across his thigh. Blood began to seep through his torn robes.

  The scent of it filled the air.

  And the tiger roared—long and thunderous—as if intoxicated by the scent. The sound reverberated through the forest, primal and triumphant, a hunter awakened by the taste of the chase.

  Zhang Tian didn’t look back again. He couldn’t afford to.

  As he rushed forward, the trees suddenly broke away, revealing a gaping ravine that split the forest like a wound in the earth. Its depths were swallowed in shadow, no bottom in sight. Wind howled up from within, whispering promises of death.

  Zhang Tian didn’t hesitate.

  Channeling every ounce of his cultivated Qi, he summoned strength into his legs and unched himself into the void, taking the rgest leap of faith he had ever dared. The wind screamed past his ears. For a heartbeat, time itself seemed to hold its breath.

  His fingers scraped the far ledge—barely. He grasped at the dirt, fingers digging in, his body dangling over the abyss. Relief flooded him, just for a moment.

  Then the roar came.

  The tiger hadn’t stopped.

  With terrifying speed and power, the beast leapt after him. But its trajectory faltered—too heavy, too wild. It wasn’t going to make it.

  Yet just before it began its descent into the chasm, one of its massive cws shed out—wild, desperate, but devastatingly real. It raked across Zhang Tian’s back, tearing into flesh and cloth alike. Pain exploded through his body, and his grip faltered.

  His eyes widened as the world tilted backward.

  He fell.

  The tiger’s furious roar echoed alongside him, its massive body plummeting into the depths as well—but Zhang Tian was only dimly aware of it. The wind tore at him as he plummeted into the ravine, his blood trailing like a crimson ribbon in the air.

  Branches snapped around him—too fast to break his fall, too thin to stop him. Then, darkness.

  His st thought before everything went bck was not of fear... but a calm, cold resolve.

  If I survive this... I will not waste the second chance I've been given.