"N-No... NO!" Lu Feng was jolted awake by a nightmare, cold sweat trickling down his back as his heart pounded against his ribs.

  In one of his lives—the fourth, if he recalled correctly—Lu Feng was tasked with amassing a collection of evil techniques and macabre artifacts, igniting his darker instincts. Twenty years later, he was elected President of the "Chamber for the Welfare and Promotion of Evil," a title as grandiose as it was ominous. The sect he founded became the ruthless overlord of all evil sects, its influence spreading across the land like a plague, corrupting everything in its path.

  However, Lu Feng neglected his cultivation in favor of completing the system's tasks, a choice that would later prove to be his undoing. With persistent bad luck that seemed almost deliberate, all the randomly unlocked skills proved to be utterly useless or mere gimmicks—parlor tricks in a world that demanded true power. A small fry he had spared when destroying his rival sect went on to have heaven-defying luck. With the help of an old ancestor hiding within a spiritual ring, this former nobody became a peerless expert of the evil faction, his power growing until it eclipsed Lu Feng's own.

  The day of reckoning arrived with crushing inevitability. Lu Feng was ousted as the President of the "Chamber for the Welfare and Promotion of Evil," his throne usurped by the very insect he had once spared. To exact his revenge—a dish served with the coldest of intentions—the usurper overpowered Lu Feng, bound him to the flagpole that once proudly displayed his sect's emblem, and whipped him until consciousness fled. All of this unfolded in public view with scores of onlookers, their gazes piercing like daggers, their whispers more painful than the lash itself.

  Lu Feng was later rescued by a prodigy from his sect, a loyal disciple whose name had long since faded from memory. Unable to endure such humiliation, he handed over the sect to that prodigy—a gesture of both gratitude and surrender—and disappeared into obscurity. Lu Feng reemerged only after several years, with a new name and appearance.

  Ever since, the occasional nightmare of the whippings followed Lu Feng across lives and reincarnations, a persistent specter that refused to be exorcised. And much to Lu Feng's dismay, reincarnation doesn't erase traumatic memories.

  After an unsuccessful attempt at self-hypnosis to erase the humiliation, Lu Feng realized he had napped longer than intended, and it was already past midday. The warm sunlight streaming through the window cast a golden glow on his face, illuminating features that reflected both youth and ancient wisdom. But Lu Feng's mind remained troubled, like a pond disturbed by a thrown stone. He couldn't shake off the unease that lingered after the nightmare, clinging to his consciousness with tenacious grip.

  "Perhaps I should meditate instead," he considered, adjusting his position on the bed. "Clear my mind of these—"

  Beep. A familiar sound interrupted Lu Feng's contemplation.

  Achieved Breakthrough to Origin Level.

  New Information Deduced:

  You can now access the space ring.

  You can now fly with the aid of a sword.

  A stream of information flooded into Lu Feng's mind, filling his consciousness with details about controlling the space ring and flying on a sword. The techniques resembled those he had used in previous lives, though with subtle variations that reflected this world's unique cultivation laws. With his accumulated experience and memories—knowledge gathered across eight previous existences—he only needed to acquire a sword to master flight, to soar above the mundane world as cultivators were meant to do.

  "Finally, some good news," Lu Feng murmured, a smile forming on his lips.

  Visibly excited, Lu Feng eagerly began exploring the contents of the space ring, anticipation brightening his expression. His fingers traced the contours of the seemingly ordinary ring, feeling the pulse of spiritual energy that marked it as something extraordinary.

  "Let's see what secrets you harbor," he whispered to the ring, channeling a thread of spiritual energy into its depths.

  Baihu City, Northern Lands, Godsfall Continent.

  Baihu City might be small by continental standards, but its wealth and opulence compensated for its size. The city stood as a winter paradise, a haven of luxury amid the harsh, snowy landscape of the Northern Lands. Snow-covered roofs and hillsides provided a picturesque backdrop to lavish buildings adorned with golden plaques and intricate decorations.

  Residents, dressed in luxurious robes of silk and fur that shimmered with subtle enchantments, enjoyed numerous hot springs scattered throughout the city, offering respite from the biting winter chill. Laughter and music filled the air, a vibrant melody echoing through the streets, harmonizing with the whisper of steam rising from the heated waters. In this winter paradise where green things seldom grow—where the land sleeps beneath perpetual snow—people indulged in vegetables, fruits, fish, and meats fresher than those found in the sunny Eastern Lands, renowned as the land of plenty.

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  "How is this possible?" visitors would often ask, marveling at the abundance.

  "Gold opens all doors," the residents would reply with knowing smiles, "even the doors to distant lands."

  Such was the influence of wealth, the power of gold to overcome natural limitations. Baihu City stood as one of the wealthiest cities on the Godsfall Continent, its coffers deeper than the mountains that sheltered it. The city's grandeur testified to the power and prosperity of the Baihu Clan, whose wisdom had transformed a frozen wasteland into a jewel of civilization. The Baihu Palace, a grandiose mansion of white jade and gold rivaling any Holy Palace across the continent, stood as a symbol of the clan's wealth and influence, its towers reaching skyward as if in challenge.

  This impressive structure, with its nine tiers representing the nine celestial spheres of ancient cosmology, was the seat of the Baihu Clan's power. Unique among cities on the continent, Baihu City was wholly owned, controlled, and operated by a single organization—a feat speaking volumes of the clan's might. The Baihu Clan's dominance was absolute, their rule unchallenged, their word final.

  In any other city, the presence of a Holy Palace, representing the leading faction of the Godsfall Continent, was expected—a concession to the balance of power maintaining the peace between Great Clans. Not so for Baihu City. The Baihu Palace served as the ultimate authority in this winter paradise, its judgments final and uncontested.

  Within a serene chamber of the Baihu Palace, adorned with paintings of ancestral heroes and vases of preserved mountain flowers that retained their fragrance despite the seasons, Patriarch Baihu Zhaoyun and his son, Baihu Yunchang, observed a solemn silence. It marked the anniversary of the deaths of Baihu Yunfei and his wife, Mingxia—a day of remembrance and quiet grief. Baihu Yunfei, the Patriarch's eldest son and Yunchang's brother, was remembered through a portrait capturing both his strength and gentleness.

  "Father," Yunchang began, his voice barely audible, "do you think there's any chance that—"

  The silence was broken by hurried footsteps as the chief guardian of the Baihu clan, Li Wei, approached with unusual urgency. His face, typically composed, now showed barely contained excitement.

  "Patriarch, Young Master," he said with a deep bow, "we have information about Young Master Ming..." Surprise and anticipation flashed across the faces of Baihu Zhaoyun and Baihu Yunchang.

  "Speak," commanded the Patriarch, his voice betraying a tremor of hope.

  Ten minutes later, in the central hall of the palace—a vast chamber supported by columns of white jade carved to resemble ancient trees, their branches forming a canopy overhead—an uproarious laugh resounded through the space, startling the attending servants.

  "Ming'er is definitely alive!!" Patriarch Baihu Zhaoyun exclaimed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "No one could have accessed the ring other than him. It has a blood seal—even if forced open, the ring would have self-destructed!" The news lifted the weight of uncertainty that had burdened them for years.

  "Yes, Master," Li Wei confirmed, his posture relaxing. "Previously, the first young master was too far away to be located by his token, but now with his ring being activated, we should be able to trace its spiritual signature. His soul lamp, which was flickering these past years, has also rekindled and glows brighter—a sure sign of his continued existence." This news offered hope that Baihu Ming, the Patriarch's grandson, was still alive somewhere, perhaps even unaware of his identity and the family that had mourned him.

  "Good! Good! Good!" The Patriarch repeated, each word more emphatic. "Being in limbo these past years has been eating at my soul... If Ming'er died, how could I face Yunfei in the afterlife? Thankfully, we can be sure he's okay." The old man's weathered face now showed renewed vigor. "What else do we know? Where is he? What happened to him all these years?"

  The questions poured out, a torrent of curiosity and concern finally released by this breakthrough.

  "By my estimation, Young Master should be somewhere in the Eastern Lands... We'll need to track the ring's spiritual signature for his exact location. Even though the assassin self-destructed during our interrogation—taking many secrets to his grave—we discovered he was a powerful soul cultivator. That's how he bypassed our spiritual sensors.

  "There's a high chance Young Master's memory will be incomplete or even totally wiped out, a common aftermath of soul attacks, especially on one so young." Li Wei explained, his tone measured and professional.

  After a brief moment of deliberation, Baihu Zhaoyun heaved a deep sigh. "No matter," he declared with certainty. "Even if all his memories were wiped out, for Ming'er to survive the assassination attempt of an Empyrean Soul cultivator is already the blessing of our ancestors..." The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders—to find his grandson and bring him home, to restore what was lost and perhaps heal the wound in the Baihu Clan's heart.

  With a solemn expression, Baihu Zhaoyun commanded, "Li Wei, take the clan guards and find my grandson. This time, even if someone from the Holy Palace interferes, cut them down without hesitation. We've shown enough restraint by not waging war after their suspected involvement in Yunfei's death and the attack on Ming'er. Go now, and do not return without Ming'er."

  The order was given, the wheels of fate set in motion—a search that would span continents and perhaps change history itself.

  Li Wei bowed deeply. "As you command, Patriarch." With that, he transformed into a wisp of smoke and vanished, employing one of the secret techniques of the Baihu Clan's guardians.

  Minutes later, a large procession of black-clothed figures, each emanating lethal intent, flew from the Baihu Palace, their formation resembling predatory birds against the winter sky. The sight captured the attention of everyone in Baihu City, from servants to merchants, all pausing to witness this unusual display of the clan's might.

  The populace, unaware of specifics but familiar with the signs of the clan's movement, could only speculate in hushed whispers that some unfortunate sect or clan was about to have a bad day. Little did they know that this mission was not one of vengeance, but of reunion—a search for a lost heir that could reshape the balance of power across the entire Godsfall Continent.